"Oh, I do, Tingting," Fang Siying quickly replied, taking the child’s two hands into her own. "But, Tingting, your homework is also very important..." She suddenly stopped, her eyes locking onto Bai Tingting's hands. Shocked and panicked, she excimed loudly, "Tingting!"

  Bai Tingting flinched in surprise, quickly trying to pull her hands away. However, Fang Siying had already gripped them tightly, not allowing her to escape.

  "Tingting!" Fang Siying panted, "What happened? Tell me, what is going on?"

  On the small hands were numerous bruises and wounds, dark and purple, covering the palms, backs, and wrists. The marks were swollen, clearly the result of some kind of rod-like object striking them. Now, because Fang Siying was holding the child's hands tightly, Tingting winced in pain, inhaling sharply, but she endured it, her brave eyes meeting Fang Siying's.

  With crity, she spoke, "I... I fell," Bai Tingting said softly.

  "Fell?" Fang Siying excimed, her voice trembling with emotion. "Can a fall cause such injuries? Tingting, you'd better tell me the truth. If you don't, I will take you to see your father, and I will get to the bottom of this!"

  "No! Teacher!" The child was frightened, panicked. She grabbed Fang Siying, her voice desperate as she pleaded, "No! Teacher! Please don't tell my dad! Please, don't!"

  "But how did you get hurt? Tell me! Tell me!" Fang Siying shook the child by the shoulders. "Did someone hit you? Did someone bully you? Tell me!"

  "Teacher!" The child broke down, all pretense falling away in an instant. She cried out in anguish, her tears quickly filling her eyes. Her face turned pale, her lips trembling, her small body shaking like a leaf in the cold wind. Her voice was filled with pleading, sorrowful desperation as she cried, "Please, don't ask! Teacher, please don't ask! Please!"

  "Come on!" Fang Siying stood up, grabbing the child by the arm. "We're going to your house. I'm going to talk to your parents!"

  "No!" The child cried out, clutching Fang Siying tightly. Her tear-streaked face pressed against Fang Siying's chest as she sobbed and gasped for breath. "Please don't tell Daddy, please! Good teacher, please! Daddy doesn't know; he doesn't know anything. He's blind; he can't see! Please don't tell him; he'll get angry; he won't be able to take it. The doctor said he can't get angry; do you understand? Teacher! Please don’t let him know. Mommy is doing this just to make him angry... oh, teacher!" She buried her head in Fang Siying's embrace, crying uncontrolbly.

  Fang Siying's heart twisted painfully.

  "You mean... you mean..." Her breathing became shallow. "This was done by your mother? She hit you?" She asked, struggling to make sense of it, the disbelief in her voice.

  "Oh, teacher, you won't tell Daddy, right? You won’t tell him, will you? Please, teacher!" The child continued to cry and beg.

  "Oh, Tingting." Fang Siying swallowed hard, closing her eyes briefly. She needed a moment to compose herself. Gently lifting Tingting's chin, she looked closely at the tear-streaked, frail, and exhausted face before her. How much burden must this little child be carrying, both physically and emotionally?

  "Tell me the truth, and I promise I won't tell your father." She said softly, "Who hurt you? Was it your mother?"

  The child nodded faintly.

  Fang Siying's heart twisted with pain. She tightly closed her eyes and turned her head away. After a long moment, she finally turned back, her eyes filled with tears.

  "But just now you said your mother loves you, that she's the best mother in the world!"

  "Teacher!" The child looked at Fang Siying pitifully, with a heavy, pleading meaning in their eyes. "You made it all up, didn't you?"

  Bai Tingting nodded again.

  "What about your birthday?" Fang Siying asked. "You made that up too, didn't you?

  Yesterday wasn't even your birthday, was it?"

  The child lowered their head in shame.

  "Why make up all these things?"

  The child remained silent.

  "Why?"

  Bai Tingting's head hung even lower.

  "I don′t want you to think my mom doesn′t love me," the child whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm afraid you'll tell Daddy."

  "Does your mother often hit you? Why?" Fang Siying asked softly.

  The child blinked, her tear-filled eyes filled with an unusual sadness for her age. In that moment, her face no longer looked innocent or childish. It was the face of someone wise, understanding, and mature beyond her years.

  "You must know... she's not my real mom," the child said in a soft, calm voice, devoid of resentment or hatred. "I can’t expect her to love me like a real mom, can I? And Daddy doesn’t treat her well, so she gets angry and takes it out on me. She wants to use me to make Daddy angry." She shook her head, looking at Fang Siying with an expression of reluctant tolerance. "I won’t give her the chance; I won’t let Daddy find out! Please keep this a secret, okay? Teacher Fang!"

  Fang Siying's heart ached for the child, and her nose felt painfully sore. What kind of child was this! What sins had the adults committed to make such a thin, small child bear both physical and emotional torment? She looked at the child for a long, long time.

  Then, she pulled the child tightly into her chest, stroking her soft hair, and said with a slight tremor, "Okay, Tingting, I promise I won′t tell your father about this. But you have to promise me one thing: from now on, never lie to me; tell me everything, alright?"

  "Okay."