The girl's words lingered in the air above the carriage, as if such heretical remarks were utterly shocking, causing a stir within the crowd. Some lowered their heads in silence, some turned pale and wanted to leave, while others stood up and loudly rebuked Xu Xiaoyou, pointing at her nose.
"We are in Hell?" murmured the career housewife.
"Who said Hell must be full of brimstone and grills? A place where your souls endure immense suffering is Hell." Xu Xiaoyou paid no heed to the insults hurled at her.
"Look at this city, tell me, in what kind of environment do you live every day?"
"I'm fine, I have a job and a career, please stop talking." Someone looked around frantically, only to find that everyone else stood there silently, speechless.
"Examine your hearts, are your souls free?"
"Or was your soul, from the moment of birth, crucified and subjected to fire, enduring daily torture and suffering?"
A middle-aged man's hand rested on his old companion, a camera—an expensive one.
