Sold into a ghost marriage? Four-year-old and his thuggish father go on a killing spree.

"Little girl, we've arrived. We've arrived at Qinghe County. Now, get off."

Old Zhou parked his bicycle on the dirt ground in front of the Qinghe County Long-Distance Bus Station, turned around and patted Niannian on the shoulder.

Niannian's legs went numb from sitting, and she almost fell when she slid off the back seat.

She steadied herself by holding onto the back rack of the bicycle and looked up at the area in front of her.

The long-distance bus station in Qinghe County is a row of low brick and tile buildings.

A wooden sign stands at the entrance, with the words "Qinghe County Bus Station" painted in red.

Most of the paint has peeled off.

Two dilapidated buses were parked in the open space in front of the station.

The car was covered in rust, and newspapers were pasted on the windows to block the wind.

Several farmers wearing cotton-padded coats squatted under the wall, basking in the sun and eating sunflower seeds, leaving a ring of sunflower seed shells on the ground.

There was an old man selling roasted sweet potatoes at the entrance, with white smoke rising from his stove. Next to him was another vendor with a bamboo basket piled high with ash-colored tea eggs.

Noisy, crowded, and unfamiliar.

Niannian stood there, so thin and small, like a bean sprout bent by the wind.

Old Zhou had already gotten on his bicycle.

"Chengjiawan is in the south. Go in and ask which bus goes there." Old Zhou pointed to the ticket window at the bus station, paused for a moment, then took out two cents from his pocket and handed them to her. "Take this, buy a sweet potato to tide you over."

Niannian took the two cents and clutched them in her hand.

"Thank you, Uncle Zhou."

Old Zhou didn't say anything more, got on his bicycle and left.

Niannian watched his figure disappear at the street corner, then looked down at the two cents in her palm.

The coin, printed with an image of wheat ears, was slightly warm from being held by body heat.

She didn't rush to buy sweet potatoes.

She was observing.

Mom used to say, "Niannian, when you arrive at an unfamiliar place, look around first, then walk. Make sure you see where there are people, where there are no people, and where you can hide."

There weren't many people at the bus station entrance, but those coming and going were mostly adults.

No child as young as her appeared alone.

She was too conspicuous.

As Niannian stood there wondering where to go, a figure approached her.

She was a middle-aged woman with curly hair, wearing a brown cotton coat, and lightly rouged.

In front of this drab county bus station, the woman's attire was quite eye-catching.

The woman squatted down, bringing her eyes level with Niannian's, a smile plastered on her face.

"Oh dear, such a young girl, all alone?"

Niannian didn't say anything, but took half a step back.

"Are you lost? Auntie is going south too, how about I take you with me?" The woman's voice was sweet as she reached out to touch Niannian's face.

Niannian turned her head to the side, dodging the hand.

She saw the hand.

There was something blackish-gray embedded in my fingernails—not mud, but cigarette ash.

There was a faint red mark around his wrist, as if he had been tied with a rope or wire.

Niannian's gaze moved upwards and landed on the woman's face.

The woman is laughing.

The corners of her mouth curved into a smile.

But his eyes weren't curved.

Those eyes were flat, like two cold, lifeless panes of glass; even when he smiled, his eyelids didn't move an inch.

Her mother's voice suddenly exploded in Niannian's mind.

Those were the words Song Wanqing had taught her countless times when she was alive—

"Niannian, remember, don't trust people whose eyes don't crinkle when they smile. What they think and what they say are different."

Niannian's back tensed up immediately.

She took another step back, her back pressed against the wall.

"No." Niannian's voice was soft but clear. "I'm waiting for my dad. He'll be here soon."

The woman's expression changed for a moment.

It was a fleeting moment, like lightning flashing across the water.

Then that smiling face lit up again, even more enthusiastic than before: "Where's your dad? It's so cold, it's dangerous for you to be out alone. Auntie has some hot food over there—"

As she spoke, she reached out and grabbed Niannian's arm.

Niannian's body suddenly shrank back, like a frightened cat, her back pressed against the wall, her eyes fixed on the outstretched hand.

"Don't touch me!"

Niannian's voice suddenly became louder, sharp and piercing, and several farmers who were eating sunflower seeds at the entrance of the bus station turned their heads to look over.

The woman's hand froze in mid-air.

Just then, a gruff voice shouted from the side.

"What are you doing? Does that girl even know you?"

The one speaking was the old man who sold tea eggs.

He was in his fifties, wearing a tattered cotton hat, his face etched with deep wrinkles, but his eyes were bright and alert.

He held bamboo chopsticks in his hand and pointed at the woman with permed hair.

"I've seen you loitering around here for ages, always sticking near little kids. What are you doing here?"

The woman's face froze instantly.

She stood up, a forced smile playing on her lips. "Mind your own business. What's it to you if I'm talking to this child?"

The old man slammed his bamboo chopsticks against the edge of the pot, making a crisp "clang" sound.

"What happens on the streets of Qinghe County is my business. If you're the child's family, tell her to call you. If you're not—get out of here as soon as possible, or I'll have to call the security team."

The woman was completely humiliated.

She glared at the old man, then glanced at Niannian, pouted, and turned to leave.

They walked very fast, and after a few steps they turned into the alley next to the bus station and disappeared.

Niannian only relaxed her tense body after the woman had completely disappeared.

Her back was covered in cold sweat, and the inside of her cotton-padded jacket was soaked.

The old man who sold tea eggs came over, squatted down in front of her, and looked her up and down.

This old man's name is Cheng Fulai. He has been selling tea eggs at the entrance of Qinghe County Bus Station for three years. He used to be the commune's accountant. After retiring, he had nothing to do, so he boiled and sold tea eggs in the winter to earn some pocket money.

"Girl, whose child are you?" Cheng Fulai's tone wasn't harsh, but it wasn't exactly gentle either. "Where are the adults? Why are they here all alone?"

Niannian pursed her lips, not answering immediately.

She is judging this person.

The old man had calluses on his hands, his nails were neatly trimmed, and there was no cigarette ash on them.

He frowned when he spoke, but his eyes were curved.

Niannian spoke up: "Grandpa, I want to go to Chengjiawan. Do you know where Chengjiawan is?"

Cheng Fulai's expression changed.

"Chengjiawan?" he repeated. "What are you going to Chengjiawan for?"

"I'm looking for my dad."

"What's your dad's name?"

"Gu Yanqiu".

Cheng Fulai's eyelids twitched.

His lips moved as if he wanted to say something, but then he swallowed it back.

He stared at Niannian for several seconds.

His gaze swept from her face to her bandaged forehead and her gauze-wrapped fingers.

Then there's that old cotton-padded coat with patches.

This is not a child who has been well taken care of by his family.

"Where did you come from all alone?" Cheng Fulai asked in a low voice.

"White Horse Town. An aunt asked Uncle Zhou to bring me here."

Where's your mom?

Niannian was silent for a moment.

My mother is dead.

When these three words came out of the mouth of a four-year-old girl,

There was no sobbing, no trembling; it was as calm as if he were saying, "It snowed today."

But it was this calmness that made Cheng Fulai feel as if someone had squeezed his chest.

He stood up and didn't ask any more questions.

He scooped two tea eggs out of the pot, placed them on an old newspaper, and handed them to Niannian.

"Eat first."

Niannian looked down at the two tea eggs. The brown shells were cracked with even lines, and steam rose up, emitting a rich aroma of soy sauce and tea.

Her stomach growled.

She couldn't remember the last time she had a full meal. Aunt Zhao cooked noodles for her, which she ate cleanly, but that was last night.

Niannian took the tea egg, peeled it, and ate it in big bites.

After finishing eating, I neatly stacked the eggshells on the newspaper.

"Thank you, Grandpa."

Cheng Fulai looked at her actions with a very complicated expression.

A four-and-a-half-year-old child knows to neatly stack the eggshells after eating and not throw them on the ground.

It's not the kind of refined manners taught by rich families, but the kind of cautiousness that comes from poor families—afraid of causing trouble for others.

Cheng Fulai sighed.

"Girl, Chengjiawan is still far from here. You can't get there on your own two legs."

Niannian's eyes lit up: "Grandpa knows the way?"

Cheng Fulai did not answer directly.

He bent down to tidy up his stall, putting the iron pot, stove, and unsold tea eggs into the basket one by one.

His movements were swift and decisive, as if he had made a decision.

"Let's go." He tied the basket to the back of the bicycle and glanced back at Niannian.

"Grandpa will see you off on your way."