Chapter 2 — My Unborn Daughter Has Lived Seventeen Times

"Our baby's a little money god."

I couldn't smile.

"Mingyuan."

"Hm?"

"What if it wasn't a coincidence?"

He looked at me.

I lowered my voice.

"What if our baby really knows things that haven't happened yet?"

His smile faded a little.

He sat down beside me.

"Qinghe, you've been under too much stress."

"Then explain the ticket."

"Coincidences happen."

"All six numbers?"

He fell silent.

After a while, he took the ticket from my hand.

"All right."

"Let's say the baby really did speak to you in a dream."

"Wouldn't that be a good thing?"

I looked at him.

For some reason, that didn't reassure me.

It only made me more uneasy.

Because I remembered one thing very clearly.

In neither dream had the child let me see its face.

…

On the third night, it appeared again.

This time, there was a table in the room.

A birthday cake stood on it.

Six candles.

All burning.

The child stood in front of the cake.

Looking at the number six on the candle, I asked without thinking, "Is it your birthday?"

It shook its head.

"No."

"Then why the cake?"

It didn't answer.

After a while, it said, "Mommy."

"Grandma will call you tomorrow."

I stared.

"My mother?"

"Yes."

"What will she say?"

"That your youngest aunt is coming to our home."

I frowned.

"And?"

The child slowly turned toward me.

"Don't open the door."

I began to feel uncomfortable.

"Why?"

"You mustn't."

"Why?"

"Even if she cries, even if she calls your name, even if she says she's dying…"

Its voice grew quieter.

"Don't open the door."

My skin prickled.

"What are you talking about?"

No answer.

I stepped forward to catch hold of it.

Just before my fingers touched its shoulder, all six candles went out.

The room sank into darkness.

In the dark, I heard the child.

"Mommy."

"If you open the door…"

"We'll die sooner this time."

I jolted awake.

3:17.

Mingyuan was still fast asleep beside me.

I sat up, my heart racing.

This time, I couldn't comfort myself with coincidence.

The next morning.

9:12.

My mother called.

The moment I saw "Mom" on the screen, my hand went cold.

I hesitated for a few seconds before answering.

"Hello?"

"Qinghe, are you home today?"

I tightened my grip on the phone.

"Yes."

"Good."

"Your youngest aunt is coming into the city this afternoon. I've sent some things for you. She'll bring them over."

I couldn't speak.

"Qinghe?"

"Are you listening?"

I swallowed.

"Auntie's… coming here?"

"Yes."

"What time?"

"Probably this evening."

I almost dropped the phone.

Exactly as the child had said.

Now I was truly afraid.

That afternoon, I called my aunt.

No answer.

I called again.

No answer.

A third time.

Still nothing.

I sent a message.

No reply.

By nearly eight that evening, Mingyuan still wasn't home.

He'd texted that something urgent had come up at work.

I was alone.

8:43.

The doorbell rang.

Ding-dong.

I froze on the sofa.

It rang again.

Ding-dong.

Then came a knock.

Knock.

Three times.

Very slowly.

I stared at the door.

My phone vibrated.

A message from Mom.

【Has your aunt arrived?】

Before I could reply, a voice sounded outside.

"Qinghe."

My youngest aunt.

I jumped to my feet.

"Qinghe, open the door."

Her voice was perfectly normal.

Even cheerful.

Without last night's dream, I would probably have rushed to let her in.

Now my feet might as well have been nailed to the floor.

"Qinghe?"

She called again.

"I've brought the things your mother sent."

I called her phone.

Immediately, a ringtone sounded outside the door.

I exhaled.

It really was her.

The child must have been talking nonsense.

I'd taken just one step when the call connected.

"Hello?"

An unfamiliar man's voice.

I stopped.

"Are you a relative of the owner of this phone?"

I looked at the door.

Outside, my aunt was still calling.

"Qinghe."

"Open up, dear."

On the phone, the man said, "We're the police."

"The owner of this phone was involved in an accident three days ago."

"We haven't been able to reach her family."

"Could you come and identify the body?"

My mind emptied.

Slowly, I turned toward the door.

Silence.

No knocking.

No voice.

I could hear my own heart.

Thud.

After a long while—

Knock.

This time, very softly.

Then my aunt's voice.

But it no longer sounded the same.

Rougher.

Stiffer.

As though someone who hadn't spoken in a very long time were trying to imitate the living.

"Qing… he…"

"Open… the door…"

I backed away.

My legs gave out.

The officer was still asking me questions.

"Can you hear me?"

"Are you related to Ms. Zhang Xiumei?"

I couldn't answer.

Because just then, a child's laugh sounded inside my head.

"Mommy."

I looked down at my belly.

The baby kicked.

Hard.

Then, for the first time while I was awake, I heard its voice clearly.

"I told you."

I fainted.

…

When I woke, it was daylight.

I was in bed.

Mingyuan sat beside me.

He stood as soon as I opened my eyes.

"You're awake?"

I looked at him for a few seconds before remembering last night.

"Where's my aunt?"

His expression shifted slightly.

"I spoke to your mother."

"The police have confirmed it."

"Your aunt died three days ago."

I went cold.

"Then the person last night…"

"There was no one."

I looked up.

"What?"

"I checked the camera outside our door."

He looked at me.

"From seven in the evening until I got home, no one entered the corridor."

I stared at him.

"That's impossible."

"I heard the knocking."

"I even heard her phone ring out there."

"The camera didn't record anyone."

"That's impossible!"

My voice rose before I could stop it.

The baby kicked.

I fell silent at once.

Mingyuan looked at my belly.

For an instant, his eyes changed.

So quickly I almost thought I'd imagined it.

Not happiness.

Not concern.

Fear.

He was afraid of the baby.

The thought seemed absurd.

Before I could examine it, he stood.

"Get some rest."

"I'll go downstairs for food."

The bedroom door closed.

I lay there for a long time.

Eventually, I drifted off.

For the fourth time, I entered the red room.

I wasn't afraid anymore.

I went straight up to the child.

"Who are you, really?"

"Your child."

"How did you know my aunt was dead?"

"Because I knew."

"How?"

Silence.

I crouched down.

"You knew about the truck."

"The lottery."

"My aunt's death."

"And you said we'd die sooner."