In the pitch-dark little room, a young boy sat inside, leaning against the wall, silently crying.
Why, why doesn't Dad like me?
He just wanted to do those things to get Dad's attention, but why is it that every time Dad looks at him, it's with disappointment?
He also wants to have a mother.
He also wants to receive praise from Dad and Mom.
In the pitch-dark little room, no matter how hard the young boy slammed the door, he couldn't open it.
Suddenly, he opened his eyes and saw the faint light by the bed. Only then did he vaguely understand he had been dreaming again.
Meng Yanzhi pulled off the quilt and walked to the balcony. The sky was almost bright yet still dark, and outside was tranquil.
He sat on the chair, the gentle breeze invigoratingly blowing in, and he just sat there in a daze for a long time.
Losing himself in thought, he gazed into the distance, closed his eyes, as if still remembering that pitch-dark room.
