They must have touched upon the little girl's painful memories; they've gone too far, but this is the procedure, the necessary path.
They despised themselves while looking impassively at Bai Zhi, their faces never stern.
"I don't know what it means to be treated well."
Bai Zhi's voice was so soft, so low they nearly missed its sound.
"When I was little, my father never held me; in my memory, his gaze was always cold, sometimes terrifying like a snake's eyes, instilling fear at a glance.
Back then, he would glare at me fiercely when no one was around, and as I got older?
My mother would go to school, and he made me cook, made me cut grass for the pigs.
Standing on a stool, I've cut my hand, scalded my face.
Going out to cut the grass, I've been chased by snakes, bitten by leeches, only to return home to his indifferent gaze.
I so desperately wanted, longed to be the best, I strived with all my might, just wishing he would hold me, just as he held my brothers."
