Chapter 4

Faint scratches near the floor on the inside of the door.

The phone she'd taken from me.

They separately seized the phone she'd used for filming too.

The police asked when she'd last heard me speak.

She couldn't give a clear answer.

When they'd asked what time she'd left home and returned, she'd said she couldn't remember.

Dad suddenly stood.

"You remember when to post your videos every day."

"But you can't remember when she was sick?"

My aunt covered her face.

He stepped forward. An officer stopped him.

Mom stayed beside me.

Someone gently asked her to stand for a moment.

She shook her head.

A white sheet slowly covered my hand.

She reached out to touch me once more.

Her hand stopped above the sheet and stayed there a long time.

At noon, Grandma hurried in.

She was still wearing the old cardigan she'd worn while looking after Grandpa in hospital. Its pocket was turned inside out.

As soon as she came in, she called my pet name.

"An'an?"

At her voice, Mom suddenly began to sob.

"Mom."

Grandma held her first.

She patted her back, barely steady on her own feet.

"How could this happen?"

"Wasn't she fine when you left?"

Crying, Mom said I'd developed a fever a few days earlier.

Grandma's hand stopped.

"How many days?"

Mom couldn't answer.

Dad lowered his head and said quietly, "An'an sent me a voice message on Tuesday evening."

"What did she say?"

His lips moved.

No sound.

Grandma let Mom go.

She stepped back half a pace.

"What did she say?"

"That she felt unwell."

"That… she wanted to go to hospital."

The room fell silent again.

Grandma looked at Dad, then Mom.

"Who did you ask to take her?"

Mom's sob caught in her throat.

"Chen Yan said she didn't need to. She said An'an was…"

"I asked who you sent."

Grandma didn't raise her voice.

Her hands kept shaking.

"If you couldn't come back, you could have called me. A neighbor. Anyone who could come."

"Why did both of you only ask her?"

My aunt looked up at once.

"I didn't know about these things either. I'd never looked after a child before…"

Grandma turned away.

"She felt bad enough to ask for the hospital. You couldn't understand that?"

My aunt lowered her head again.

I floated beside Grandma.

Two milk candies were in her pocket.

She always brought some when she visited me.

I reached for them.

Couldn't touch them.

Grandma went to the stretcher, took the candies out, and tried to put them in my palm.

No hand reached out from under the white sheet.

She closed her fist around them.

After a while, the wrappers rustled.

She lowered her head.

Her voice was very small.

"Our An'an was so afraid of needles."

"How bad must she have felt to ask for the hospital herself?"

Mom sank to the floor.

Dad turned and pressed his face against the wall.

I didn't run over and try to pull them away anymore.

Grandma was swaying a little.

This time, I only wanted to hold her up.

Chapter 7

7

A few days later, Mom and Dad went to see the investigator again.

I followed.

Test reports lay on the table.

So did the videos my aunt had posted over those days.

I couldn't understand all the long words.

I understood "severe infection."

And that I hadn't received emergency care.

The investigator laid out a timeline for them.

The examination findings and other records showed that by the time they found me, I'd been dead for more than two days.

My aunt had said she'd fed me porridge on Wednesday at noon.

That I'd been angry with her on Thursday.

None of it was true.

Dad stared at the screen.

The nine-photo post from Wednesday noon.

Porridge.

Fruit.

A picture of my aunt holding my hand.

Mom had written beneath it:

【We feel so reassured knowing you're there.】

Mom covered the words with her hand.

But beside them was still "Not her mother, but loving her more than one."

The investigator asked them to confirm the voice messages in the chat.

The phone, the sending account, and the times had all been checked.

They weren't edited clips from the internet.

They were the original messages I'd sent my parents from that old phone.

In the first, I could still speak in whole sentences.

"Mommy, my chest feels bad. I can't breathe properly when I lie down."

"Auntie says I'll feel better after a sleep, but I can't sleep."

"Could you take me to hospital?"

Mom bowed her head.

The investigator asked, "Did you hear this at the time?"

She nodded.

It took a long time before she could say, "Yes."

The next message was hers.

She'd already heard it once in my bedroom.

Now she heard the whole thing again.

"Your aunt has even given up work to look after you. Can't you be a little more sensible?"

Next came Dad.

"Don't go running to your mother every time you feel a bit unwell. Listen to your aunt."

His hands were clasped so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

He wanted to say something.

The investigator didn't supply the words for him.

There were two more messages from me.

Both very short.

"I'm not being disobedient."

A few minutes later.

"Mommy, could we see the doctor first? You can scold me when we get back."