In the end, she pleaded with Lillian Clark to pick a lotus flower.

Lillian Clark had a terrible headache. Their residential complex wasn’t fully built yet; it was a relocation housing area, and the lotus flowers seemed to belong to someone else. Lillian Clark tried to scare her: “These belong to someone else. If you get caught, they’ll lock you up!”

Emma Bennett’s big eyes were clear: “We’ll buy it.”

“Fine, fine.” Lillian Clark looked around and asked the owner of the lotus flowers. Then she spent fifty cents to buy a lotus with a seedpod. Lillian Clark picked up a stick, hooked the lotus over, and picked it for her.

Emma Bennett knew that fifty cents was a lot; her New Year’s red envelope was only one yuan.

Lillian Clark felt sorry for her, that she only got this one flower because she was sick.

Little Emma Bennett was so tiny, and Lillian Clark, feeling the pinch of the fifty cents, picked a long stem. Emma Bennett held it carefully, the flower completely covering her face.

When they arrived at kindergarten, Little Mr. Wood was already at work. She was even gentler than Little Mr. Clark, having just returned from a half-month wedding leave. Little Mr. Wood was slightly plump, and her smile carried the genuine joy of a newlywed: “Yaoyao’s flower is so pretty. Come join the other kids for some games.”

Little Mr. Wood took her hand and led her inside.

Little Mr. Clark was handing out sandwich biscuits.

Sandwich biscuits were only given out once a month; the usual biscuits were just plain round ones. For the children, the day they got sandwich biscuits was especially anticipated.

Emma Bennett hugged her flower and looked around.

The round table was full of children. Each child, upon receiving their biscuit, would first lick it cherishingly, then take a tiny bite. One biscuit could last them ten minutes.

She immediately spotted Charles Page.

There was a biscuit in front of him, but he left it untouched on the table. As if it wasn’t the kind of biscuit all kids loved, but a piece of charcoal.

Emma Bennett vaguely realized that he seemed even thinner than a few days ago.

The frail little boy wore a dark blue summer outfit, his clothes hanging loosely on his body.

He was gazing at the Chinese mahogany tree outside the window, his pupils pitch black.

Emma Bennett walked in, hugging her flower. He glanced at her indifferently, then shifted his gaze back outside.

Olivia Young was nibbling her biscuit like a little hamster. When she saw Emma Bennett, her eyes lit up: “Yaoyao! Your flower is so pretty.”

Emma Bennett nodded.

Her almond-shaped eyes curved: “Tongtong.”

Olivia Young was her kindergarten classmate, and would be her elementary school classmate in the future.

“Can I have a petal?”

“Sure.” Emma Bennett carefully plucked the outermost petal with her chubby little hand and handed it to her.

Olivia Young sniffed it: “It smells so nice!”

Emma Bennett knew she should be nice to Charles Page, but as a little kid, her resolve wasn’t strong. The flower was originally meant for Charles Page, but now she couldn’t bear to part with it. She decided to look at it with Olivia Young for a while longer before giving it to Charles Page.

While they were talking, a chubby hand reached over and took the biscuit in front of Charles Page.

Charles Page suddenly turned his head.

He stared expressionlessly at Henry Brooks.

Henry Brooks swallowed and shook his fist at him: “What? You can’t beat me.”

Anyway, Charles Page never ate it, so what was wrong with him eating it? Besides, every time Charles Page’s biscuit ended up in his stomach, and nothing ever happened.

Thinking this, he quickly licked the biscuit while the teacher wasn’t looking. Seeing Charles Page still staring at him coldly, Henry Brooks felt both guilty and annoyed.

Grace Ford wore an expression of pride that didn’t match her age: “His biscuit is dirty, Henry Brooks, don’t eat it.”

Henry Brooks’s face turned even more embarrassed.

He tossed the bitten biscuit back in front of Charles Page, deciding he didn’t want it after all.

Minmin was right, Charles Page wet his pants, so his biscuit must be dirty.

The sandwich biscuit missed its mark, grazed the edge of the table, and landed beside Charles Page’s wheelchair.

Charles Page’s pale hand suddenly gripped the wheelchair and moved toward Henry Brooks. Then he grabbed Henry Brooks’s collar and dragged him over.

Henry Brooks was stunned: “Mute, what are you doing!”

Ever since Charles Page broke his leg, he hadn’t spoken to the other kids.

At first, they still called him Charles Page, but now they just called him “Mute.”

Henry Brooks was sturdy and naturally wouldn’t “sit and wait for death,” so he pushed Charles Page away. The frail boy’s chest was pushed back by the little bull Henry Brooks, but Charles Page’s eyes were pitch black and silent. He grabbed Henry Brooks’s arm and bit down hard.

“Waaah…” Henry Brooks cried out in pain on the spot.

Little Mr. Wood was the first to notice something was wrong.

She hurried over to pull the children apart.

The kindergarten was in chaos.

Emma Bennett was holding her flower and suddenly caught sight of Charles Page’s expression. He was biting Henry Brooks’s arm, sweating all over, looking at her through several other children.

Emma Bennett looked back at him, and he closed his eyes again, but didn’t let go, as if he wanted to bite a chunk out of the chubby boy.

Henry Brooks hit him on the head while crying.

Charles Page seemed like a robot without pain, biting down even harder the next second.

Little Mr. Wood couldn’t pull them apart. She had to pinch Charles Page’s jaw forcefully: “Charles Page, let go!”

It was the first time the children had seen such a scene, and they were all stunned with fear.

Blood trickled from the corner of Charles Page’s mouth, but no one knew whose it was.

Little Mr. Wood was getting anxious.