It was a pitch-black night.
The rain outside was pouring heavily.
Bean-sized raindrops fell on the tiles, forming a curtain of water crashing to the ground, sounding like a waterfall.
The stone bricks in the courtyard were almost submerged by the rainwater.
The seven-year-old Lai Xuan curled up in his quilt, finding it hard to sleep with the sound of the rain, his mind filled with recent events.
Someone said big brother was dead.
Died at the hands of those Americans; Lai Xuan didn't understand what death meant, but it seemed that the big brother whom father loved and he revered would never return.
Father was furious about it; Lai Xuan had rarely seen such an angry and terrifying side of his father, almost as if he was about to grab a knife and kill someone.
Since then, Lai Xuan noticed that father seemed to pay special attention to him.
