...age. They were standing in a corner of the hallway, and he had saved her. And putting his finger to his lips, he opened his bag.
And showed her his first-day, too-young stuffed... Prof’s Dawn Xiaodan woke to a beam of sunlight cascading over the curtains, bouncing from small bits of dust. She could hear her mother preparing food in the kitchen, and hugged her toy bunny, hoping to keep her eyes closed for a few more minutes of sleep.
Her hopes were crushed with the opening of the door, her mother framed in the doorway with a plate of cong you bing and some rice for breakfast. Xiaodan buried her head in her face, mandarin syllables tumbling from her lips in her high, surly, twelve-year-old voice.