"At that time, I was too young and too weak, unable to do anything. I could only swallow the blood down my throat, struggle to survive, and silently wait for the chance for revenge..."
Cheng Jiashu spoke softly, as if he had finally found the opportunity to vent the longstanding depression buried in his heart.
The music of the carousel around remained cheerful and pleasant, yet it could not mask the chill spreading in the air.
Fang Cheng stepped forward, raised his hand to pat his shoulder, comforting him:
"It's all over now. The current you is no longer that helpless child from back then."
Cheng Jiashu turned his head, looking at Fang Cheng's hand on his shoulder, suddenly smiling, the coldness in his eyes dissipating instantly.
"Yes, it's all in the past. Later, I lived alone, struggled in society, learned to sing, learned to act, grew up bit by bit, and became mature."
"Thinking back now, those childhood events feel as distant as if they happened in a past life."
