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你是最后入的门。刚来的时候,瘦瘦小小的一个,一看就知道是娘胎里带下来的不足。可是,被带上这山上习武的孩子哪一个不是吃了许多苦,哪一个不是已经在这世上失去了最后的依傍。在这里生活的孩子,从小学到的只有如何让自己变得更强,吃饱穿暖,不受欺凌。却从来没有被教过要如何善待弱小。他们眼中充满了冷血漠然,没有同情和怜悯的立足之地。我看着他们唆使你去挑水劈柴。小小的身影在挂着满满两桶水的竹担下摇摇晃晃,光影明灭,水溢出桶来泼了一地;你咬紧嘴唇狠命劈柴,仿佛那堆积成山的柴火和你有着不共戴天的仇恨,甚至虎口被木头反噬的力量震破,鲜血随着那柴刀的起起落落洒了一地。
You are the last to enter the door. When I first arrived, a skinny little one, one can see that the womb was brought down. However, it is not the one who took the martial arts in this mountain to eat much bitterness, which one has not lost the last resort in this world. Children living here, only from primary school to make themselves stronger, full and warm, from bullying. It has never been taught how to treat weakness. Their eyes were full of indifference, lack of sympathy and compassion. I watched them instigate you to pick water and firewood. Small figure hung in the bucket filled with water, bamboo shakes, shadows shine, the water spilled out of the bucket to pour a bit; you bitten his lips fiercely chopping wood, as if the mountain of firewood and you have not altogether Dai days of hatred, and even the mouth of the tiger was bite the power of wood was shattered, the blood with that hatchet up and down spilled.