You take the last bus back to Huaichuan. As soon as the bus stops, the rain stops, but the driver turns around and says, "Don't forget, we'll charge you for one more person." But you clearly see that there is only a little girl in a red sweater sitting in the last row - her face is covered by her hair and her feet are not touching the ground.
The next day, someone made a comment during the live broadcast: "Anchor, why did the moon in the tank behind you break?" You turned around and saw that the water tank was empty, but there were wet footprints all over the floor, walking all the way from the bed to your feet.
On the third night, there was a power outage in the whole village. You looked out the window with your flashlight and found that the chickens in the whole village were wringing their necks towards your house, as if someone shouted "one, two" in unison.
On the fourth day, the copper key left by grandma inserted itself into the door lock. The door did not open, but the floor collapsed first. You heard someone below whispering to you - half a beat slowly, like an echo or a preview.
On the fifth day, another you appeared at the entrance of the hospital, wearing the old cotton-padded jacket you lost when you were ten years old. She said: It's my turn.
On the sixth day, it was still dark. On the seventh day, there will be no more light.
This is the story of Chun Yatou - after she finished speaking, she handed her phone to you and asked you to watch the live broadcast replay. In the picture, you are sitting in her room with half of your shoulders empty, as if you are saving a seat for someone.
Reader comments
The writing is good, I'm fascinated by it, it's beautiful.
The writing is good, I'm fascinated by it, it's beautiful.