Chapter 61

I threw her to the ground and stood aside, leaning against a tree trunk, panting. She looked at me with disbelief, while the baby slept soundly in her arms.

“You…” she began, almost exasperated, but I interrupted her, “You’re deaf, I don’t want to hear you.”

I said, "I don't care whether you can hear me or not. Listen: I didn't need to come here. Everyone has their own life, and others are responsible for them. But I met you from the beginning. You made me see you, so your fate has long been tied to mine. As for me, I have many other concerns: I can't stand people pretending to be mayflies, talking to themselves, sighing and lamenting, and I can't stand spiders suffocating themselves with their silk. No one should die. No one has been responsible for what has been left unattended for millions of years. I won't just stand by and watch you die. Don't worry, I'm not that responsible."

“You finally passed through my dream, and that’s how I saw you. It’s all your fault.” I paused. “I don’t know who you are. And, to the deaf lady, whether real or fake, listen: live on. Someone can solve everything.”

She looked at me quietly.

After a moment, she whispered, "Who could that person be?"

“It’s not you anyway,” I said. “Someone else will do it.”

"So, you have to at least see the sun set tomorrow."

*

I left Mo Huaizhen again without saying goodbye, and texted him on my phone. He again expressed his understanding, and by then my eyes were almost closed. Having resolved something that had been weighing on my mind, a rare sense of peace washed over me.

In short... in short...

I woke up from my dream. All around was silent; I'm used to this quiet. If there were any sudden sounds, I'd be surprised to know what had happened.

I pushed open the door. I hesitated for a moment before opening it, making sure the two children weren't in the bedroom, and after hoping they were safe, I left immediately.

The peach tree leaves by the door swayed gently. It wasn't old enough to bear peaches yet, and I didn't plan to use my abilities to accelerate its growth. I noticed the seeds seemed fuller, but since I could never take pictures, I had no way to compare.

I walked along the path.

The narrow road made the buildings appear incredibly tall, so tall that I thought their tops might reach the sky. Bats occasionally darted across the night sky. This made me a little uneasy. But I couldn't say for sure; perhaps I was starting to fear ghosts. Were there ghosts here? Would a ghost call to me? Would a ghost pretend to be a human and gently pat my shoulder?

The wind blew across my neck. I shivered and patted my shoulders hard near my neck.

I didn't want to see ghosts. If possible, it would be best if no one heard what I was just thinking.

I kind of regret going out. I'm not afraid of ghosts, nor do I believe in them, but all of that is based on me not thinking about them. When I involuntarily see that spot, I always dwell on it.

For example, right now. I always feel like something is chasing me from behind.

A rustling sound.

I resisted the urge to turn back and resolved to keep going. Forward, turn, don't look back. Just get home—open the door and lock the ghost out. What if it peeks out a wisp of smoke and slips into a loose crack? And then pushes its own body inside?

It tugged at my clothes. I wanted to scream.

I managed to suppress the sound in my throat. I looked over shakily, but there was nothing there.

I absolutely refuse to go out at night! My voice trembling with tears, I asked, "Excuse me, who are you...? Is there some connection between us? If not, could you let go of my hand?"

My clothes swayed slightly. Was that a nod?

Without waiting for me to speak, it grabbed me and made me walk backwards. I stumbled a few steps: "At least let me see the road ahead, right?"

It let go of me so easily. It seems quite easy to fool me. I was dragged along again, thinking numbly.

It led me to a corner of an open space. I had never been here before; in fact, I had no idea such a place existed. There was a round platform with several stone tablets standing on it. There should have been inscriptions, but they were too far away, and it was nighttime, so I couldn't make out anything.

It was annoyed that I was distracted by the stone platform, so it grabbed my hair and flew me upwards. I winced and shook it off, then froze.

The soft touch suggests it couldn't be a ghost.

But I couldn't dwell on this; I had to look up first, or I'd get pulled again. I looked up at the apartment building it wanted me to see, and saw many windows along the way—perfectly normal. The windows were pitch black, and the lights weren't on inside… and it hit me again.

I frowned, squinting my eyes, which weren't nearsighted, to try and see clearly. It wasn't the window that was dark; it was wisps of black smoke swirling outside. Black smoke, black fog, black shadows. They changed their shapes, trying to figure out the best way to slip into the house, their movements silent and stealthy.

I stood frozen in place.

They are so numerous that it's as if every cloud and every drop of water could be gathered together to form them.

It was satisfied and disappeared without a trace. I vaguely recalled their immense size, which seemed to cover the entire sky, and couldn't remember what kind of material the black mist that allowed me to survive safely was made of.

Smoke, mist, shadows. It's normal for these to creep into the house. But when they try to get in as if they have a mind of their own, that's completely wrong.

Not only is it wrong, it also seems quite bizarre.

I curled up in bed, pulling the blanket over my head. In my ears, I could almost hear screams of horrific deaths, people being strangled, suffocated, poisoned, and other forms of mortification coming to my side. They questioned me, asking why I hadn't helped when I saw it all, why I had witnessed others being murdered without doing anything, and why I was an accomplice.

The bed was shaking. Later I realized I was crying, but at that time I only knew it was like my mother rocking my cradle.

"Why do you cry so much?" My brother affectionately pinched the tip of my nose. "Little crybaby. Mom was right, only here can you feel at ease. Are all six- or seven-month-old babies like this? Or are you just special?"

He suddenly picked me up and lifted me high: "On an airplane—haha, no matter what, you'll always be my dearest little brother. Little brother, call me 'brother' and see if you can! 'Ah'—'Ah'—"

I couldn't speak, I could only look down at him and giggle. I don't know whose body I'm in now, but I know I would never receive this kind of treatment from my parents.

Is this the life of someone whose life I caused to die? Does he want me to experience this life full of happiness but ultimately powerless to change it?

I clenched my fists quietly, but I was probably in a worse situation than he imagined. I'm so sorry I didn't let him achieve his goal.

My brother put me down in the cradle, which rocked gently. It was electric and could turn on its own, but my brother insisted on watching me and doing it himself. His hazy expression was so tender; his obsidian eyes swept over my hair, my eyes, and he whispered fairytale lullabies in my ear. I quickly drifted off to sleep, even though I longed to hold his fingers. I wanted to feel his warmth, to keep that warmth in my heart, so I wouldn't forget it when I woke up.

So don't go, you can't go. I thought to myself. I still clutched something tightly, a soft, comforting doll.

My mother woke me up. Her expression was serious, and she reluctantly scrutinized me, who had just been fed formula by the nanny. Her critical gaze swept over me from head to toe, gradually silencing my uncontrollable crying.

"He's just wailing, as expected." She came to this conclusion, then turned away with a look of utter boredom and instructed, "You continue to take care of him. I have to go to work."

I stared blankly at her retreating figure, my mind a little dazed. The nanny didn't like me either, sitting there playing on her phone. The sound effects of the short video kept playing, and she laughed cautiously.

I inexplicably knew this wasn't my life; I'd never experienced anything like it before. Yet, tears still streamed down my face after she left, as if I wanted her to turn back and look at me, to prove I wasn't lying.

“He’s really too small,” the older brother and mother complained. “I’m even afraid to touch him much, I always feel like he’ll cry if I do.”

"It's okay for him to cry a little," the mother said indifferently. "As long as he doesn't get hurt."

"I'm just worried he'll get hurt... Even though he's all chubby, he's bound to feel pain if he bumps into something. Should I change his sheets and blankets?"

"Don't worry too much and get confused," Dad chimed in. "Your mom and I went out of our way to pick that out, and we even had it tested. There's absolutely nothing harmful to the child left behind."

The older brother reluctantly gave up on the idea.

I overheard their conversation. My brother said again, "Then I'll buy him a little baby carrier. That way, I can carry him around when we go out. It would be even better if I wanted to take him out to play."

"What a deep brotherly bond!" Mom smiled and shook her head. "But it's inconvenient for you to change his diapers and feed him, the child gets hungry very easily."

“He’s my brother after all. Even if he doesn’t understand yet, it’s normal to like him.” The older brother’s tone was matter-of-fact. “So as long as I can overcome these things, you will agree to let me take him out, right? I will definitely do it.”

He left his parents and rushed to my side. He stroked my forehead with his warm palm and watched me close my eyes wearily under his gaze. He sang nursery rhymes to me tirelessly. I can't remember them all, only a few lyrics, as if someone had repeated them to me many times.

Love, oh love.

How much I love our tomorrow!

So you must be happy, you must be happy, you must feel happiness.

How blissful.