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In a remote, shadowy alley, a little girl ran for her life, panting as two tall figures chased after her relentlessly.
“Stop right there, you brat!”
Her hair was yanked back hard, slamming her onto the ground. Luckily, her backpack cushioned her fall, but the pain still made her see stars.
The man who grabbed her didn’t let go, and the other woman, hips swaying, blocked her only escape route.
The air reeked of garbage in the dim light, and battered concrete walls and iron-barred windows caged her in.
The menacing glare of her pursuers bore down on her. She shrank her neck, wanting to shield herself, but her hands were full—she was cradling a blood-soaked kitten in her arms.
“Weren’t you just yelling for the police? So where are they, huh?”
The man turned calm and conversational as if chatting, even as his hand still gripped a bloodstained wooden stick.
The girl had only been passing by, planning to meet her sister at their secret base, when she stumbled on a man and woman abusing a kitten. She hid behind a parked scooter and, mustering her courage, shouted “The police are coming!” Seizing the moment of panic, she grabbed the kitten and ran.
But there was no outrunning adults. She was just one corner away from the main road.
The woman, like someone deranged at losing her stress toy, roared, “Idiots keep feeding these stray cats—so dirty! The more they breed, the more annoying! Now even little brats are stealing them!”
The girl crouched on the ground, trembling, and saw the man flash a cruel smile at her terrified, desperate face.
Just then, she felt the kitten stir—it had awakened, trying to crawl away, blood matting its fur. But it was too weak. Even as it struggled with all its might, its efforts barely registered; all she could feel was her own arms shaking.
She was terrified, but a fierce emotion welled up in her heart. She desperately wanted to save the kitten, not let it die so miserably.
The man stroked her head. “Sing me a song. If you sing well, I’ll let you go.”
His touch felt like snakes crawling over her scalp. But she forced herself to be brave—she wasn’t alone. She wanted to protect the kitten.
“That’s no excuse for animal abuse,” she said, looking him straight in the eye.
“Still got attitude, huh?”
The sound of wood snapping exploded by her ear, splinters flying.
“Give me the cat!”
The woman’s shrill voice pierced her eardrums like a thousand needles. The girl curled up tighter, clutching the kitten for dear life as the woman tried to pry it away by force.
“Ah! No—!”
The girl was no match for adult strength. She could only watch, helpless, as the dying kitten was torn from her arms, its blood still warm on her hands.
The woman, face twisted with impatience, dangled the kitten as if afraid it would stain her dress. The man, stick now broken, watched with perverse amusement.
“If you love cats so much, I’ll strangle it and give it to you.” The man motioned for the woman to hand him the kitten, even giving the girl a mocking smile. “Aren’t I generous?”
Rage exploded in the girl’s mind, drowning out all fear. She wiped her tears away, glaring at the woman’s designer handbag.
“There’s a ‘Louise Vionet PETITE NILE’ bucket bag, and inside is a ‘Guccio Opalia’ makeup pouch...”
As the kitten was about to be passed to the man, the girl’s voice drew both adults’ attention. Her teeth chattered, but she forced herself to recite the “text descriptions” that appeared before her eyes. She’d seen on TV that revealing someone’s secrets could intimidate them, so she pressed on: “And a gift box wrapped in a snack bag!”
“Huh? What the hell are you talking about?”
Unfortunately, TV is just TV. The woman only grew angrier, her voice scraping at the air like tile dragged across glass. She tossed the cat aside, and the girl frantically caught it, only to be grabbed by the collar herself.
“So you know designer brands? Spoiled brat—must be from a rich family, huh?”
“Proud of yourself? The kid described exactly what’s in your bag. You do have a snack bag in there.”
“What! You went through my bag? Who let you touch my stuff!”
“Guilty, aren’t you!”
As the two adults began to argue—just like those melodramatic soap operas her grandma loved, complete with slapping matches—the girl realized this was her chance and tried to slip away.
“Trying to run? Get back here, you brat!” The woman immediately noticed and grabbed the girl tighter, glaring as if willing the man to pay attention to her again.
The girl clutched the kitten tighter. From what just happened, she now knew how to make things even more chaotic.
Reading the details from the woman’s bag made her eyes ache, but she kept her reddened eyes fixed, continuing to recite: “The gift box holds a Chanel CARESS CRUSH platinum ring, with a little card that says, ‘To my darling, my intoxicating midnight garden.’”
Slap! The woman, shocked, clutched her cheeks and staggered back.
“You bitch! I spent all that money on you, and you’re seeing someone else? Show me which bastard it is!” The man lunged for the woman’s bag.
“How dare you hit me! You didn’t even dare hit the brat, but you hit me?” the woman screamed, clutching her bag. “Think I won’t call the police? I’ll have you charged for assault!”
“Go ahead! All I hit was the powder off your face!”
The two adults were soon in a full-blown fight, too distracted to wonder how the girl could know the exact contents of the handbag.
Hope returned to the girl’s heart. Her legs stopped shaking. She jumped up and bolted.
She heard the woman shriek, “That brat ran off with the cat!”
But the girl was ready. She called out what she’d read from the man’s pocket: “He’s got a business card with lipstick stains on it—it says, ‘Qian Da Jiali Hotel, Candy.’”
That set the adults off even worse, fighting so furiously they couldn’t spare her a glance. As the woman screamed, “Still insulting me? May your junk fall off!” and the man howled in agony, the girl was already gone.
For a moment, she was actually grateful. Her parents always scolded her for watching silly soap operas with grandma, but today, that knowledge had saved her life. She silently thanked her grandma.
And then, she ran on, searching for someone to help...
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[Glossary for Parallel World Brand Names]
Louise Vionet PETITE NILE bucket bag: Inspired by the Louis Vuitton Petit Noé, a luxury designer bag.
Guccio Opalia makeup pouch: Based on the Gucci Ophidia cosmetic pouch, a designer brand.
Chanel CARESS CRUSH platinum ring: Modeled after the Chanel COCO CRUSH platinum ring, a luxury jewelry item.
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