After the iron gate exploded, the villa's front door opened, and a girl with a slightly pale face walked out.
This girl appeared to be only thirteen or fourteen years old, with waist-length, cascading long hair, wearing a sailor-suit school uniform, a typical Lolita style.
The girl's chest rose and fell with her somewhat rapid breaths, as if she were angry.
"It's not you?" Upon seeing me, the girl's angry expression instantly turned to surprise, then she covered her face with both hands, appearing to collapse, "Oh god, I was actually defeated by a child—"
Uncle Thief appeared behind her and patted her head with an air of indulgence, "You're not wronged to lose to her, he should be much older than you."
The girl's mood instantly shifted from gloomy to sunny, "Really? He looks so young, is he really older than me?"
Uncle Thief smiled without answering, simply beckoning me to come in.
Holding the child, I bypassed the iron gate fragments at my feet and followed Uncle Thief into the villa.
The villa was large, with a total area of perhaps over two hundred square meters. The living room television was on, and a person with a yellow 'quiff' was sitting on the living room sofa watching TV.
A man in his fifties, with somewhat graying hair, wearing a black Zhongshan suit, was also sitting on the living room sofa, staring at a large bowl on the coffee table in front of him.
"Shěn Quán, twenty-four years old, photographer for 'Looking Out at the World' magazine, from beyond the Great Wall. Your editor-in-chief just gave you seven days of leave, but don't worry, she'll definitely make you make up all of your vacation with overtime. Also—watch your head."
That 'quiff-haired' person sat on the sofa, his eyes never leaving the TV screen, yet he recited my 'resume'.
But what was that about 'watch your head'?
With a "thud," my head was hit hard, and stars danced before my eyes.
Gritting my teeth, I rubbed my head and looked down to see the culprit behind the attack.
It was an oil painting hanging on the wall next to the stairs. I happened to be standing beneath it. I supposed the nail must have loosened, causing it to fall and hit me. But how would this quiff-haired person know I was about to be hit? Could it have been his prank?
The old man looking down at the bowl raised his head to glance at me, but his gaze immediately fell on the child in my arms.
Uncle Thief clapped his hands, and the quiff-haired person stood up, turning to look at me and smile.
"Let's all get acquainted. This is Xiǎo Shěn, Fēng Píng has already explained his background. Now, introduce yourselves. Xiǎo Shěn will be staying with us for a while, and I hope you all get along well," Uncle Thief said, giving me a meaningful look.
Only then did I realize that the somewhat self-important quiff-haired person was named Fēng Píng. Why not 'Calm Waves' then.
"Brother Quan, there's something I need to tell you upfront: I absolutely dislike the quiff nickname you gave me."
Hah? My jaw almost dropped to the floor. Just as I had a thought, this person already knew the nickname I was about to give him. Could this person read minds like Ding Jiawen?
Still in shock, the little lolita walked up to me and took the hand that wasn't holding the child.
"Hello, brother. My name is Lori. Please take good care of me in the future, brother," a sweet, childish voice suddenly echoed in my mind.
With an electric jolt, I pulled my hand away and looked at her in surprise.
"Don't be scared. She's just communicating with you telepathically. It's her talent," Uncle Thief said, pulling me to sit on the sofa. I was finally able to comfortably put the child down.
"You'll have to be careful from now on. Don't let her touch you casually, or the secrets you keep in your wardrobe drawers might be compromised," the quiff-haired person winked suggestively at me before leaning back on the sofa.
What is going on with these people? It's as if I have no secrets here at all.
The child wasn't very fussy, sitting obediently beside me, her curious gaze constantly sweeping back and forth over everyone.
Lori sat down next to me and carefully took the child's six-fingered little hand.
Then, Lori closed her eyes with a serious expression, as if falling asleep.
Is she communicating telepathically with the child?
The child also closed her eyes, seemingly tired.
But as soon as the child closed her eyes, the bright lights in the room gradually dimmed to a soft level.
A teddy bear on the sofa suddenly floated up, suspended eerily in the air. Small objects in the living room began to float one after another. In this house, gravity seemed to have vanished.
I had never witnessed such a strange thing and involuntarily reached out towards a glass floating in front of me.
The moment my hand touched the glass, my vision suddenly brightened.
When I opened my eyes again, I was standing in an operating room. The equipment in the operating room was old, and several woven rattan warmers were placed nearby.
The overall style felt like the 1950s or 60s. Several doctors in surgical gowns were busy working, and a woman's scream echoed in the operating room.
"Waa—" A baby’s cry suddenly rang out, followed by the disappearance of the woman's scream.
Is this—obstetrics?
I instinctively turned to leave, but then realized I couldn't move at all, as if the air around me had turned into superglue, sticking me fast.
"The infant's vital signs are normal, and there are no obvious limb deformities, but—" The voice hesitated, then became quieter, "Doctor Zhāng, this child has six fingers..."
"It's fine. It won't affect arm function."
The scene flashed, and my surroundings changed again. This time, I was in a hospital room.
A young man in his twenties was playing with the infant in his arms, his face beaming with joy, "Son, what should we name you? How about Little Six?"
On the hospital bed next to him lay a woman, also smiling happily, "What kind of name is that? What if the child doesn't like it in the future?"
"How could he not like it? Although this child has a slight flaw, if he can face it, he won't feel inferior. I think this name is quite good, at least it can make him face this minor flaw."
"Alright, alright, you always have a point. We'll go with your idea, let's call him Little Six!"
"Little Six, smile for Daddy..."
The scene flashed again, this time in an ordinary residential building.
The young man who appeared in the previous scene now had a few crow's feet at the corners of his eyes, his face looking much more mature.
He was sitting on the sofa, his face etched with worry, constantly smoking.
"Little Six is already three years old. It’s one thing that he can’t speak, but why hasn’t he grown in height either? What sins did your ancestors commit for us to bear this retribution."
From within the room came the woman's choked sobs mixed with complaints to the man.
"Enough, what's the use of crying? I'll take a few days off tomorrow and take the child to a big hospital in the provincial capital. If that doesn't work, we'll go to the capital. I don't believe he can't be cured."
The scene shifted again, still in this residential building. Apart from a few new pieces of furniture, nothing else had changed.
A pregnant woman sat on the sofa knitting a sweater, while Little Six sat on the floor engrossed in stacking blocks.
"I heard a few days ago that the provincial hospital imported an ultrasound machine. That thing can see the baby inside the womb. I must get an ultrasound this time. I can't have another unhealthy son."
...Little Six stood by the baby carriage, staring at the infant in the carriage with his dark, bright eyes, a naive smile slowly appearing on his face...
...A boy, about four or five years old, held Little Six's hand, happily running on the grass...
I kept appearing in various scenes, from Little Six's birth until the birth of his younger brother, his brother growing up and getting married, his parents aging, falling ill, and dying. Little Six, however, remained an infant, never growing up.
To conceal Little Six's peculiar illness, his parents told outsiders that the child had died young. Only after their second child grew up and got married did they introduce their grandson to the world.
And Little Six's brother was completely normal, living a normal life with his wife and children.
Suddenly, the scene became dim.
In a room, a photo of an old man hung on the wall – Little Six's father had died. Little Six's brother was now a middle-aged man, with a child about ten years old leaning against him.
Everyone else in the family was immersed in grief, except for Little Six.
He scanned his family members repeatedly, his gaze finally settling on the photo on the wall.
Perhaps due to the bond between father and son, Little Six let out his second cry since coming into this world.
The family's grief intensified, and they began to sob softly along with him.
Suddenly, the door was pushed open, and Little Six's father walked in, frost clinging to his hair and eyebrows...
The family was thrown into a panic. After confirming that their father showed no signs of life, their eyes fell on Little Six, who was holding his father's hand. But no matter how hard they tried, they couldn't bury their father.
Even cremation wouldn't work. Their father would always return home as if he had just finished work, sitting in Little Six's room, staring blankly at Little Six playing.
They thought about escaping, but they could never leave the house.
Then, Little Six's mother died. Her body, like her husband's, returned home. Thus, they were forced to live with their parents' corpses every day, watching them turn into dried corpses.
His brother had sought out several monks and Taoist priests to perform exorcisms, but none of them could even step halfway into the building.
Little Six's sister-in-law, unable to bear the mental torment, developed schizophrenia and committed suicide.
His brother, the middle-aged man, also succumbed to depression and eventually developed anorexia, starving to death.
And Little Six's nephew, the middle school student I found in that residential building, could not attend a university further from home because as soon as it was time to get off school, he would instantly return here from his dormitory hundreds of miles away.
Ultimately, he chose the same path as his mother, overdosing on sleeping pills...
The scene froze at the moment I entered that room.
Then, I opened my eyes. Unknowingly, a tear trickled down from the corner of my eye...