Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Something slammed hard into my left shoulder, and the nightmare abruptly faded.

I opened my eyes to find the entire left side of my body numb. Tilting my head, I saw it was my son, Long Xiaobao.

The kid was clinging to my left arm like a koala, fast asleep.

I raised a hand and stroked his head, but the scene from the dream still hadn’t completely gone away.

It had been a long time since I dreamed of my family. I didn’t know if it was because I’d taken this job at Maternal and Child Hospital No. 3.

After so many years, I had actually dreamed of my late parents and the little sister who had died as an infant.

I was already twelve when my sister was born.

My parents had always wanted a second child, but after having me, my mother miscarried several times in a row.

My sister’s birth was an enormous surprise for our whole family.

Even though twenty-six years had passed, I still remembered that tiny child with her oval face, her bright eyes, and her soft little voice.

She was nothing like me, born frightening-looking and built like a brute.

Back then, every day after school, I would lie beside her cradle and talk to her for ages.

She wasn’t afraid of me either. Whenever she saw me, her eyes would roll around, following me.

I knew my sister wasn’t in good health. My parents often took her to the hospital.

But I thought she would grow up eventually.

When she got a little older, I would go out and earn money to buy her milk and meat pies. She would definitely get better.

But I never expected that this little sister, whom our entire family had longed for and cared for with such fear of neglecting even the smallest thing, would live for only seven short months.

The hospital where my sister stayed at the time was Maternal and Child Hospital No. 3 in the neighboring city.

I still remembered the scene that day when I rushed to the hospital with the village chief, Uncle Ye.

In the stark white hospital corridor, it felt as if everyone was crying.

My head was buzzing, and my steps were unsteady.

It was clearly a bright, sunny day, with sunlight pouring down outside, but inside that hospital, everything was dim and gloomy, as though not a single ray of light could get in.

I vaguely remembered that every ward seemed to have its cold white lights on, making every face look bloodless.

All the way there, Uncle Ye kept telling me that once we got to the hospital, I had to comfort my parents properly and act like a man.

But I was only twelve then. I hadn’t even truly understood what death was.

When we arrived outside my sister’s ward, my mother was slumped on a chair in the hallway, her face almost the same color as the hospital’s white walls.

My father held her tightly. She wasn’t crying. She just stared blankly at the door to that ward.

I followed my mother’s gaze, just as a nurse walked out from inside.

At a glance, I saw several empty baby cribs lined up side by side in that ward.

My mother suddenly stood and lunged straight at the nurse.

The nurse was startled too. My mother grabbed her arm in a death grip and cried, “My daughter isn’t dead! My daughter was stolen! I saw it that night, I saw it-”

My father hurried to stop my mother, apologizing to the nurse over and over.

The nurse was fairly old. She held my mother’s hand, her eyes red. Her lips trembled for a long while before she finally said softly, “Please accept our condolences. We really did everything we could…”

My father dragged my mother away, and she collapsed onto the floor, wailing.

The words of comfort were stuck in my throat. I had no idea what to do. I could only walk stiffly over to my mother.

When my mother saw me, she grabbed me into her arms and whispered something in my ear, something I still have never fully understood to this day-

“Your sister was stolen!”

After that, my mother fell seriously ill.

I asked my father what those words meant. He said my mother might have had a nightmare that night.

Because family members weren’t allowed to stay in the infant ward, my parents had taken turns keeping watch in the hallway those few days.

That night, my mother might have dreamed that a pregnant woman walked into my sister’s ward and carried my sister away.

By the time my mother woke up, my sister was already beyond saving.

Countless times, I wanted to ask my mother why she had been so certain back then that my sister had been stolen.

But afterward, my mother refused to say anything about it.

If I asked again, she would only say it had been a dream.

After the incident, rumors that Maternal and Child Hospital No. 3 was unclean began to spread like wildfire.

It wasn’t because of my mother’s dream, but because on the night my sister died, seven sick infants at Maternal and Child Hospital No. 3 died at the same time!