In the spacious, girlish bedroom, there were only Li Mumu and a five- or six-year-old Little Baozi.
"Sister, sit down!" The pretty and delicate Little Baozi blinked at her and patted the carpet beside him.
Li Mumu nodded and sat down.
"Sister, let's make clothes for the doll together!" Little Baozi handed her a needle and thread again.
Li Mumu was immersed in the sorrow of being unable to leave this place, having no interest in making clothes for the doll.
Distractedly sewing the fabric in her hand, she didn't even notice when the needle pierced her skin.
"Sister!"
It was Little Baozi who first noticed her hand was bleeding, his voice rising in a sharp scream.
"What happened?" Li Mumu finally snapped back to reality, instinctively asking.
Immediately, she felt the sharp sting from her finger.
When she looked down, she saw her hand was bleeding.
