北风刮得像刀子，刮在林夏脸上生疼。她缩了缩脖子，紧了紧身上破旧的棉袄，但还是止不住地打哆嗦。

这已经是第几次被赶出村子了？

她 traced the doorframe, her hands cold and numb. Not just from the cold, but from the sting of failure. The villagers, those smiling faces she used to know, now turned their backs as if she were a disease.

"They said I bring bad luck," she muttered, the words barely audible over the wind. "That I'm a curse."

A curse? She'd tried, damn it. She'd tried to help them, to make things better, but all she got was rejection. Now, she was nothing more than a beggar, wandering the streets with nowhere to go.

Suddenly, a loud crash made her jump. She spun around, her heart pounding, only to see a man sprawled on the ground, his breath coming in ragged gasps. He was clutching a small suitcase, his face pale as a sheet.

"Hey, you alright?" she asked, approaching him cautiously. The man's eyes fluttered open, but he didn't recognize her. His gaze was unfocused, as if he were seeing things that weren't there.