Tang Haocheng's mind was in turmoil. He remembered his parents arguing once. He'd heard his dad say, "That child is pitiful," while his mom sobbed, "Xuanxuan's health is poor." And Tang Yaxuan really wasn't well. She would faint for no reason and cling to their mother, crying her eyes out. The thirteen-year-old girl seemed to be hiding a huge secret, but she refused to talk about it when asked.
And when Tang Haocheng helped her with her homework, he had noticed three smeared inkblots on her scratchpad on more than one occasion. He had only glanced at them, but he could faintly make out a character that looked like "Man."
'Does this have something to do with the "Mo Xiaoman" Wu Meini mentioned?'
'How old is Wu Meini, anyway? If she hadn't seen or heard those things, it's unlikely she'd make them up on her own, right? Shouldn't a story a little girl invents be something wonderful? Why would it have an ugly sister?'
