At the same time.
Perhaps due to her injuries, or perhaps out of familiarity, instinctively sensing no danger from Fatty, and combined with her dreams, the tailor lying on the bed did not notice Fatty's arrival and wake up, her brow furrowed by the events of her dream.
Even.
As time passed, Fatty saw a pained expression on the tailor's face for the first time. It seemed she was not having a pleasant dream, but a nightmare.
Fatty had initially intended to wake her up.
But what happened next made Fatty stop.
...
On the other side.
In the tailor's dream.
There was a house, very similar to the one Fatty was currently in. It was also an old two-story house, sharing similar similarities in terms of dilapidation, number of floors, and structure.
However...
There was no Fatty, nor the tailor, inside the room.
There were only two people.
One was a little girl, about four or five years old, and the other was a woman. Her lips and complexion were somewhat pale, and coupled with the crow's feet at the corners of her eyes, she appeared to be in her early thirties but looked like a woman in her forties.
However, the little girl wasn't much better off. Her clothes were not children's clothes, but children's garments that had been mended and altered from adult clothing.
Looking closely at the yellowed calendar on the wall, it was not modern; it was at least several decades ago.
In that era, when everything was being rebuilt, most families did not raise their children lavishly as they do now, but rather frugally. Clothes were mostly made from adult clothing, and if there were a second or third child, the eldest child's clothes would be passed down to the second, and when the second child outgrew them, they would be passed to the third.
At this moment,
The woman, who looked aged, was holding a needle and thread, mending a rag doll. She had sewn it herself from worn-out clothes, but it had been torn again from her daughter playing with it for too long, and she was now repairing it.
It was at this time.
The little girl standing in front of her, being young and not yet sensible, placed her hands on the edge of the table, propping herself up to look at the doll in the woman's hands, and eagerly called out:
"Mom, how much longer until it's fixed?"
To the little girl's urging.
Although the woman's complexion clearly indicated she was ill, she still raised a smile and said:
"It's almost done, Ya Ya, Mom will finish it soon... cough."
She coughed at the end of her sentence.
The little girl, called Ya Ya, looked at her mother and instinctively asked:
"Mom, do you want some water?"
The little girl knew her mother's cough was likely due to illness, but she thought it should be fine. Ever since she could remember, or rather, since she was little, her mother had always been like this, coughing from time to time.
As for what illness it was.
The little girl had heard neighbors mention it; they said it was called tuberculosis. Unfortunately, she was too young to understand what tuberculosis was, only knowing the name of the disease. She thought it was just a cough that could be cured by drinking water.
"Mom is fine. Compared to me, Ya Ya, have you taken your medicine yet? It's almost noon, time for your medicine."
The woman stroked the little girl's head.
The woman had tuberculosis, and the little girl also had some ailments, being frail and needing to be treated with Chinese medicine.
Speaking of taking medicine.
The little girl's face fell, and she cried, her face contorted:
"Mom, can I not drink the medicine? That medicine is so bitter, I don't want to drink it."
"You must drink it. Only then will Ya Ya get better. Be good, go drink it quickly. After you drink it, Mom will take you out to play. Mom got paid today, and tonight I'll take you to see the lantern festival."
"Wow! Really? Mom is the best! I'll go drink it now~"
The little girl, surprised and delighted, pounced into her mother's arms, kicking her little legs.
Feeling her daughter's happiness, the woman's sickly pale complexion seemed to regain some rosy color. She reached out and stroked the little girl's pigtails.
In response.
The little girl just blinked her eyes happily and said:
"That's right, Mom, why don't we drink the medicine together? You're sick too and haven't gotten better. If we drink it together, you won't cough anymore."
"Silly girl, that medicine is for you. Besides, your illness and mine are different. Be good, go drink it quickly. Remember to finish it all, that medicine is very expensive."
The mother replied instinctively.
The little girl responded with an "oh" and nodded, going to drink her medicine.
At this moment.
The little girl was still young and did not know what her mother's instinctive reply meant. It wasn't until she grew up later that she realized how expensive her medicine was, so expensive that her mother had stopped taking her own medicine to pay for hers.
It was a pity.
Even if she had understood, it would have been useless. She was too young to help her mother in any way. The only thing she could do was to be a good daughter.
The time in the dream flowed by rapidly.
It was evening.
The little girl drank the Chinese medicine. Due to some of its components, she slept soundly in her bedroom. However, because of the commotion outside the bedroom door, she vaguely woke up in her sleep and saw the scene outside the bedroom door in a daze.
In a hazy state.
She saw her mother sitting by the table, still mending her rag doll. Perhaps it was due to staying up late sewing to meet a deadline, coupled with accompanying her daughter out, she was coughing severely from exhaustion. But she dared not make too much noise, fearing she would wake the little girl, so she could only cover her mouth and cough violently.
As the coughing worsened, perhaps unable to bear it any longer, she took out an injection that she had kept from when she previously sought medical treatment and injected it into her wrist. As she rolled up her sleeve, the little girl vaguely saw her mother's slender wrist.
It wasn't the delicate slenderness of a modern young girl, but a slenderness born of hunger.
Not long after.
In her sleepy haze.
A middle-aged man entered the living room from outside the bedroom door.
That was the little girl's father.
Unlike her closeness with her mother, the little girl was not close to her father; she was very afraid of him. As far as she could remember, her father had always beaten her. If anything displeased him, he would grab her and beat her. Each time, it was her mother who protected her, preventing her from being beaten, but her mother would also suffer.
In her sleep.
The little girl did not remember what her father said.
She only remembered that her father beat her mother again and called her mother a spendthrift. Her mother said nothing, only weakly replied, "Can you curse a little quieter? Ya Ya is sleeping. If you want to curse or hit, let's talk outside."
Whether it was her mother's plea or her father had had his fill with his mistress outside, he uncharacteristically followed his wife's words and dragged her out by her hair.
Life went on like this.
Then came the little girl's birthday.
It was her 6th birthday.
The little girl returned home early, eagerly entering the door, because she knew it was her birthday, and every year on her birthday, her mother would buy her pastries, which were a rare treat.
She thought the taste was delicious. Unfortunately, her family was poor. Those pastries were a foreign import, very expensive, and could only be eaten on birthdays.
Of course.
She didn't know all of this at the time. It was only when she grew up that she learned that those small pastries, and sometimes other delicious foods she ate, were bought with money her mother earned by shining shoes for others and doing odd jobs to improve her diet.
However.
This 6th birthday was different from previous ones. As she entered the house, she saw her mother sewing as usual, taking on sewing and mending jobs to supplement their income, as her father never gave them money, only spending it on his mistress outside. The money for the household was all earned by her mother.
"Mom, I'm home."
"Ya Ya is back! Happy birthday, my Ya Ya is 6 years old."
Hearing her mother's words.
The little girl smiled happily and instinctively looked at the table, but she was confused:
"Mom, where is the small pastry?"
She noticed it was different from usual. This time, her mother had wished her a happy birthday but hadn't produced the small pastry.
In response.
The mother apologized with some guilt and said:
"I'm sorry, Ya Ya, maybe there are no small pastries this time. How about I make you some pastries to eat?"
The little girl didn't know that the reason her mother didn't buy pastries was because her medicine had become more expensive. She thought her mother had forgotten and, in a fit of pique, scolded her mother, complaining that her mother no longer loved her.
It was also this time.
In the following years, her mother continued to buy her pastries on every birthday as usual.
Because of this.
The little girl grew up and still remembered the appearance of the cake, as it was her only birthday gift and the only person who celebrated her birthday with her. As for her father, he never appeared and never remembered her birthday.
Life continued until she turned 10.
10 years old.
That was an unforgettable year for her.
On that day, her mother passed away. She never received any more pastries, nor did anyone wish her a happy birthday.
It was also on that day.
Although it wasn't her birthday, she received the wool pants her mother had knitted for her, which she had worn since childhood.
10 years old. For a child today, it might still be considered young.
But for a child of that era, she was already very sensible and understood many things. She knew what her mother's death meant: that she would never see her again, and could no longer embrace her mother.
However, as she watched her mother pass away, amidst her grief, she also felt a sense of relief that her mother was no longer suffering. At the same time, she regretted never having said "Mom, I love you" to her, and sometimes she even found her mother annoying.
It was a pity.
Only after her mother passed away did the little girl understand that she had no home left, and she was the only one left in the world.
Perhaps it was due to excessive grief.
Perhaps it was regret, and she felt she should do something for her mother.
It was also on that day.
The little girl, only 10 years old, with the help of a corpse stitcher, killed her father, dismembered his body, and fed the remains to the stray dogs in the village.
Then...
She left with her mother's body.
And from that day on.
Although the little girl grew up with time, her world remained forever frozen before the age of 10.
...
On the other side.
In the old street alleyways of the Northeast, in that two-story house.
At this moment.
Under Fatty's gaze, he witnessed a scene he would never forget in his life...
As he watched the sleeping tailor, she actually cried. Tears fell from the corners of her eyes, and in her sleep, she softly murmured:
"Mom."