The old man draped Sasha's soiled soldier's tweed over her shoulders, and she broke free from it and followed the doctor out.

Passing through the other wards of this military hospital, through the wards and the small storage room with tables used as beds, and up the stairs of the staircase, out of a humble opening, came to a spacious long hall

She hesitated at the threshold, not daring to step into the long hall. She had never seen so many people before, and she couldn't even imagine that there were so many living people living in this world.

Thousands of faces, one by one, without a gas mask!

They have nothing in common with each other......

There are also very weak old people and thin children here.

Lots of men—bearded, bald, burly and short, tired and thin, ruddy and muscular, some crippled in war.

There are those who are naturally deformed, there are those who are excessively pretty, and there are those who are elusive despite their less outstanding appearance.

And so many women—huffy hovers with turbans, padded jackets, red-faced peddlers, and slender girls in extraordinarily bright clothes and novelty beads.

Did they notice that she didn't?

Did you find her different?

Is there a way for her to hide in the crowd and blend in and become one of them?

Will they immediately pounce on her and bite her, like rats do with alienated albinos?

At first she felt that everyone's eyes were focused on her, and any glances she caught made her feel feverish.

But after a quarter of an hour passed, she gradually got used to it:

There were hostile eyes, curious ones, and extremely stubborn ones, but most of them had cold eyes, and if they met Sasha's gaze, they immediately turned away, not wanting her to find out that they were looking at her.

Sasha felt that these nonchalant, soft gazes were like lubricant applied to the gears of busy people.

If they are interested in each other, the friction will be extraordinarily high and the whole mechanical system will stop.

If Sasha wants to blend in with the crowd, she has to change her clothes and get a new haircut. She didn't dare to look directly into the pupils of others, and when others looked at her, she immediately looked away and put on an indifferent expression.

She decided to quickly weave through the crowd without looking at anyone.

The hall was filled with the smell of people, like boiling soup, which burned Sasha's nose at once, but her sense of smell also immediately became dull, and for a moment she could only catch the most important smells, and automatically ignore the others.

Suddenly, in the sour smell of stale flesh, Sasha smelled the green onions of fresh young flesh, and the crowd was surrounded by the rare aroma of well-maintained women, mixed with the smell of meat on the grill and the miasma of freshly dug pits.

All in all, for Sasha, the passage between the two Boviletts exudes the scent of life, and the more Sasha smells it, the more sweet it becomes.

To get really familiar with this boundless passage, it looked like it would take her a whole month.

She was amazed by everything here......

The benches here are decorated with yellow embossed metal rings that make you want to linger. There was also a huge pile of books, where there was so much secret information buried that there was much more than she could comprehend and digest.

Next to the shop stood a hawker with a sign that read "Flowers" and a large number of holiday cards with delicate bouquets on the face - Sasha had received one in her childhood, but there were so many in this shop!

Newborn babies are attached to their mother's chest, and older children are playing with real cats.

Lovers in pairs, some touching each other with fiery eyes, some with fingers.

There were also men who tried to touch her.

Of course, she could take these notices and interests as hospitality for the local people, or want to sell her wares, but they often speak in a special way of aspirating, much to Sasha's embarrassment and disgust.

What did she rely on to capture them

Aren't local women enough for them?

？

Some of the local women are real beauties, and their heads are wrapped around brightly colored headscarves, like budding flowers.

Perhaps, they were laughing at her—at her overalls, at her soldier's coat, at her soot-smeared cheeks.

Is she attractive to a man at all?

She was suddenly stung by a strange negation of herself.

Perhaps, she doesn't understand these things?

But what would it be if it wasn't?

Sorrow arose in her heart—a tender spot where her ribs were closed, and even deeper.

The same position had only been opened for herself a day and night before.

Sasha struggled to drive away her anxiety as she struggled through the shops, which were crammed with all the goods she could think of—armor and trinkets, clothes and instruments—but they didn't really appeal to her.

Perhaps it was her inner dialogue that sounded through the noise of the crowd, and the image of the person in her memory was much more vivid than the living person in front of her.

Does she have a place in his life?

Does she have the right to accuse him of his actions after everything has happened?

And most importantly, what's the point of this stupid tangle in her heart? She couldn't do anything for him anymore......

After Sasha realized what had happened to her, she had stopped her suspicions and her mood was calmed.

She listened to her heart, catching echoes from distant melodies that penetrated her body from outside her body, dripping with the murky vocals, but they weren't intertwined.

Sasha's musical initiation was no different from the others, it all began with her mother's lullaby. Error-free updates @

But then she couldn't even hear lullabies: her father was incomplete and didn't like to sing.

Itinerant musicians and jugglers are not welcome at the bus station!

The guards used to sing mournful military songs in hoarse voices around the campfire, but they couldn't make the sound of the broken guitar or pluck Sasha's heartstrings.

But now Sasha hears the bleak sound of a guitar, or rather, the gentle and lively singing of a girl.

No, it was the girl's voice—an unbelievably high voice to a human voice, and at the same time, unnaturally loud to her.

But what can Sasha compare to such a wonderful singing voice?

This piece played by an unknown instrument seems to cast a spell on people, lifting them into the air and transporting them to a far, far away place that people born in the subway could not have imagined.