"My name is Mo Ling," the black-haired little girl answered softly, her voice clear and crisp.
"Mo Ling… that's a pretty name. I'm Bobby," Bobby repeated, then couldn't help but ask the question that had been circling in her mind. She pointed at the electric lights outside the window. "Mo Ling, you seem to know a lot about those lights. What you said just now was even more… more amazing than what the old man said."
Mo Ling glanced at the steadily glowing streetlights outside, then looked down at the book on her lap. After a moment of thought, she said, "Mm, that's because my father taught me a few things. What do you want to know?"
"Are they... are they really lit by people? It's not light given directly by a God?" Bobby asked cautiously, stealing a glance toward the male believer in the back row.
