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

The hustle and bustle of the summer harvest gradually subsided.

Summer nights, having shed the heat of the day, become exceptionally tranquil.

Outside the window, the pond was filled with the croaking of frogs.

The moonlight, like water, flowed in through the dilapidated windowpane.

The sunlight spilled onto the muddy ground, casting a clear glow.

Niannian was woken up in the middle of the night by the urge to urinate and sat up groggily.

She habitually looked towards her father's bed, only to find it empty.

Dad isn't here.

Niannian was startled, and her sleepiness vanished instantly.

She quietly put on her shoes, got out of bed, and like a kitten, silently walked to the door.

Through the crack in the door, she saw what was happening in the courtyard.

Father Gu Yanqiu sat alone on the stone steps at the door.

He didn't smoke or repair the machine; he just sat there quietly.

His head was bowed low, and his broad shoulders rose and fell slightly in the moonlight, clearly showing that he was trying his best to control his emotions.

In his hand, he held a small, yellowed photograph.

That was the only photo of him and his mother, Song Wanqing.

Niannian has sharp eyes. She saw a crystal-clear drop of liquid slip through her father's fingers, fall into the dust, and disappear instantly.

Dad is crying.

Silently, suppressively, like a wounded lone wolf that can only hide in a corner and lick its wounds.

Nian Nian's heart clenched suddenly.

She wanted to rush out, hug her father, and tell him that he still had her.

But she didn't.

She knew that some pain needed to be endured alone.

She quietly retreated to the bedside, lay down again, closed her eyes, and pretended that she hadn't seen anything and knew nothing.

But the continuous croaking of frogs sounded particularly noisy and annoying tonight.

The next morning, Niannian got up very early and took the initiative to prepare breakfast.

A bowl of clear cornmeal porridge, sprinkled with a few grains of salt she had secretly hidden.

Gu Yanqiu's eyes were a little red and swollen, but she seemed to be in good spirits.

The father and daughter ate their meal in silence.

Suddenly, Nian Nian raised her head and asked in a very natural, casual tone:

"Dad, do you miss Mom?"

Gu Yanqiu's hand, which was holding the bowl, suddenly paused.

He looked at his daughter with some surprise, not expecting her to ask such a direct question.

He opened his mouth, wanting to deny it, but looking into his daughter's clear eyes that seemed to see through everything, he ultimately chose to be honest.

He lowered his head and gave a soft "hmm," his voice thick with a nasal tone.

"I've thought about it."

Niannian put down her bowl, ran to her "treasure chest"—a broken earthenware jar—and took out her precious account book.

She turned to the last page and held it up in front of Gu Yanqiu.

On that page, there were no numbers, no Chinese characters, only three crooked little figures drawn in pencil.

A tall man is holding the hand of a little girl with pigtails.

Above their heads, in the clouds, there was a woman with a long braid and a gentle smile.

"This is Daddy," Niannian said, pointing to the tall man with her little finger.

"This is me." She then pointed to the little girl.

"This is Mom." Finally, her finger landed on the woman in the clouds.

"Uncle Chen said that when people die, they become stars in the sky and watch over us."

"So, Mom has always been here. She's watching over us from heaven, Dad."

The little girl's voice was childish, yet it carried an undeniable firmness.

Looking at the simple, almost laughable painting, and at her daughter's feignedly strong little face, Gu Yanqiu could no longer hold back.

He pulled Niannian into a tight embrace and buried his head in his daughter's small, thin shoulders.

This man, who was tougher than steel in front of others, cried like a child at this moment.

He choked up as he began to tell his daughter the story of him and his mother, Song Wanqing, in fits and starts.

"Your mother... when she smiles, she has two tiny dimples, sweeter than... sweeter than the honey sold at the supply and marketing cooperative..."

"The first time I met her was at the textile factory in the county. I was helping someone move goods, and I lost my balance and fell off the truck, cutting a big gash on my leg. It was your mother who happened to be passing by on her way home from get off work. She used her own handkerchief to bandage my wound..."

"Later, we got to know each other. We loved going to the little river behind the factory. She would sit on a rock, and I... I would sit next to her and tell her stories about the village. She always said that the stories I told were even better than plays..."

"She likes sour foods, and when she was pregnant with you, she could eat all the fruit from a whole hawthorn tree by herself..."

Gu Yanqiu's voice was low and slow, as if he were recalling a treasure that had been sealed away for a very long time.

He was talking about very small, insignificant details.

But Niannian listened intently.

She used her little notebook to record every detail her father said, using symbols that only she understood.

For example, a crescent moon represents a dimple, a heart represents a handkerchief, and a wavy line represents a stream...

In her heart, she silently said to her mother in the clouds:

"Mom, can you hear me?"

"Dad is doing well, and he misses you very much."

"Don't worry, I'll take good care of him."

It took an unknown amount of time for Gu Yanqiu to gradually calm down.

He wiped away his tears, looked out the window with a distant gaze, as if lost in deeper memories.

He suddenly seemed to be talking to himself, or perhaps to Niannian, his voice carrying a deep sense of confusion and bewilderment.

"Your mother has always been in good health. She's stronger and more energetic than any other woman I know."

"Before I left, she told me not to worry, that she would take good care of herself and wait for me to come back."

"I just don't understand... how could this be..."

He stopped there, shook his head painfully, and didn't continue.

But these words, like a small pebble thrown into the calm lake of Nian Nian's heart, stirred up ripples upon ripples.

Yes.

How could a mother with such good health suddenly die of illness?

She had already witnessed the greed and cruelty of her maternal grandmother's Zhao family.

Was my mother's death really just due to illness?

Could there be some secret behind this that even Dad doesn't know?

A terrible thought emerged so clearly in Nian Nian's little mind for the first time.