Chapter 3
I was too little.
So little I couldn’t even reach the keypad on our front door.
I couldn’t go to the hospital on my own to check on Wen Mingwei’s body.
I could only deal with the dog first.
There was a scrap collection point by the rear gate of our residential compound, with a few battered vans often parked beside it.
In my last life, Auntie Sun had always frightened me by saying,
“If children don’t behave, the dog collectors take them away with the dogs.”
I had been terrified.
Thinking back now, perhaps not everything she said had been a lie.
While Mom was on the phone with a client in her studio, I secretly took her old phone, the one she no longer used.
It had no SIM card, but it was connected to our home Wi-Fi.
I sent a voice message to a local pet chat group.
“We have a pretty female golden retriever at home. Looking for someone to breed her. Cheap.”
I deliberately lowered my voice, pretending to be a child from Auntie Sun’s family.
Before long, someone messaged me privately.
His profile picture was a German shepherd.
His account name was Old Qian’s Kennels.
He sent a string of voice messages.
“Little girl, are your grown-ups there?”
“A purebred golden? How old? Any papers?”
“If it’s a good-looking one, I can buy it.”
I couldn’t type much, so I replied,
“The grown-ups want to sell it. The dog won’t behave.”
Old Qian perked up immediately.
“Got a picture?”
I quietly took a photo of the retriever and sent it.
His reply came quickly.
“Good dog.”
“Female?”
I replied,
“Female.”
He sent a map pin.
“If your family really doesn’t want it, I can come take a look tomorrow.”
I didn’t agree.
It wasn’t time yet.
I had to make everyone think this dog couldn’t stay.
That afternoon, Auntie Sun took the retriever for a walk around the compound.
Beforehand, I had taken a little pack of lure spray from the promotional basket outside the pet store.
It was a sample the shop assistant had given the older boy next door, who had tossed it onto a bench.
I had picked it up.
I sprayed it on the retriever’s leash and mat.
Before long, several male dogs in the compound crowded around.
The retriever growled irritably.
I stood on the balcony, filming with the old phone.
In the video, several dogs chased the retriever around a flower bed. Its barking was sharp and frantic.
I ran to Mom.
“Mommy, the doggy’s scary. All those dogs are chasing it. Will it bite me?”
Mom’s brow furrowed as she watched.
“Is it in heat?”
Auntie Sun hurried to say,
“Surely not? Mr. Jiang said this dog was very gentle.”
I tugged at Mom’s clothes.
“Mommy, can we get rid of it?”
She stroked my head but didn’t answer right away.
I knew she was softhearted.
But a crack had already appeared.
That evening, Dad came home early.
Clearly he knew what had happened that day.
He changed his shoes without even glancing at the red marks the retriever had left on my arm yesterday. The first thing he asked was,
“Where’s the dog?”
Mom said coolly,
“In the yard.”
Dad looked at her.
“Qiaoqiao, what exactly do you want?”
“I went to a great deal of trouble to find this therapy dog. And you leave it in the yard because the child throws a little tantrum?”
Mom put down her paintbrush.
“Niannian’s frightened. And several dogs chased it today. Its behavior is unpredictable.”
Dad took a few sheets of paper from his briefcase.
“Here’s the assessment.”
“A professional therapist says it needs reassurance from its owner. If we keep isolating it, it could become aggressive.”
I sneaked a look.
The paper was very new, and the stamp was blurry.
Fake.
But Mom still hesitated.
Dad pressed his advantage.
“Let it sleep in the room tonight.”
“Once you make it feel safe, it won’t frighten Niannian again.”
I threw my arms around Mom at once.
“No!”
Dad scooped me up.
He was strong. His fingers dug painfully into my arms.
“Niannian, Daddy needs to talk to Mommy.”
I struggled and cried.
“I want Mommy!”
Dad shoved me into my room and locked the door behind him.
I rushed over and pounded on it.
“Mommy!”
“Don’t cuddle the doggy!”
No answer came.
The sound of the master bedroom door closing was like the countdown to Mom’s death in my last life.
Beyond the gap under the door, the retriever let out a low whimper.
It didn’t sound like a dog.
It sounded like Wen Mingwei laughing.