Five-year-old Shan Jue heard his sister Yuzhen's price in the darkness.
Their mother was discussing with a stranger the sale of his sister.
Three-year-old Qianhui was fast asleep in her cradle.
His eight-year-old sister pressed her only strawberry hair clip into his hand—the plastic still warm from her touch.
"You might not see me again from now on." Her voice trembled. "Shan Jue, hide this well. Keep it as if it were me. Look at it whenever you miss me."
The door hinge turned with a creak.
His sister was taken away.
Two years later, news came that she had died.
In the utter darkness, Shan Jue curled his small body tight, clutching the hair clip desperately in his hands—that was all that remained of his sister.
And the siblings left behind had lost their sister forever.