Xiao Nuomi's voice came from behind, soft and waxy, with a nasal sound that just woke up.
I turned my head and saw her holding a dusty object and standing barefoot at the door of the bedroom. The five-year-old girl's hair was as messy as a bird's nest, her pajamas were buttoned crookedly, and there were pillow marks on her face.
"Why are you awake? Are you having a nightmare?" I put down the digital pen and reached out to her.
Little Nuomi didn't come over, but instead raised the thing in her arms to show me: "Mom, I found a book in the attic."
My heart skipped a beat.
