THE TALE OF A MAN WHO LOVES TO PLAY WITH FIRE

The chill of winter clung to the air, a stark contrast to the warmth emanating from within Hua's Orphanage. Inside the children's playroom, a cacophony of joyful laughter echoed, oblivious to the heavy snowfall that had blanketed the world outside. The room, cozy and heated, cradled the innocence of its young occupants.
In a quiet corner, away from the boisterous games of tag, sat two small figures. Li Yang, a quiet boy with dark golden eyes, gently held the hand of An Xing, his smaller, more talkative friend. Li Yang, still recovering from a bewildering dream, listened patiently as An Xing recounted the night's events, his childish retelling painting a vivid picture of fear and relief.
Their peaceful moment, however, was abruptly shattered by a booming, resentful voice. "GROSS!" The word hung in the air, drawing all eyes to the doorway, where a silver-haired boy named Lin Mingyu stood, a sneer plastered on his face, his gaze fixed on Li Yang and An Xing.
