"Woo woo woo, woo woo woo..."
This is a monotonous, vast, small room.
Square, empty, without doors, without windows. It shuts out everything, isolates everything.
It is oppressive.
Or perhaps, it is safe.
There is nothing in the room.
Only a delicate little girl in a white long dress, curled up in the shadow of a corner. Her slender hands hugging her knees, face buried there, crying.
Like a small white flower that might be broken by the wind at any moment.
Her sobs are so weak, afraid to be heard, intermittent, softly stifled.
"Stand up! Stand up!"
A sharp and venomous voice suddenly resounded outside the room, rapidly approaching as if about to smash the room: "Zhu Bijing, how can you be like this for a stinking man!"
The little girl in the white dress trembled reflexively and raised her head—
At this moment, her quiet eyes were looking at herself in the mirror.
