The corridors are crowded and bustling. Compared to shopping malls and shopping streets, this place is not inferior.

In most areas of the hospital, people who are frowning are seen. Only in the delivery room, in this place where newborns gather, can they see so many smiling faces.

Among all the smiling faces, a face with compassion and regret looks particularly prominent.

The man had typical Western facial features, deep eye sockets and a high nose bridge. His face was a little long and a beard on his chin. When he was facing me, there was a blue light in his eyes. But I vaguely saw a scarlet red from those eyes.

My heartbeat accelerated by two points, and I instinctively felt that he was the person I was looking for.

But why should I find someone?

I didn't understand.

With a puzzled mood, I was shouted, turned around, agreed, and then turned around and saw that strange foreigner disappeared.

He should be a very conspicuous foreigner, but when I saw him just now, the first impression was the expression on his face.

I was called into the ward.

The ward was filled with people. Newborns were held in their arms by their mothers. Women looked different, and their faces were the same kindness and joy. Just like people in the entire corridor, they almost all had this expression.

I stared at the kid.

The woman holding the child signaled that I could hold the child.

I was in a hurry and a little at a loss. It was like holding a fragile treasure and holding the child carefully.

The child is very light. It is not the same as I imagined.

I don’t know why, but I always feel that such a child should be heavy.

It should be difficult for me to hold it, and someone should be lying around me from behind, dragging my hand and holding the child.

This is not the way a child looks.

Wrinkled, red face, sparse fetal hair on the head, but facial features should be more beautiful.

It should be a beautiful little girl.

"...I'm going to be an uncle. Be a good example for your nephew."

Someone next to him was talking.

My heart is soft, but I subconsciously feel that it shouldn't be like this.

It’s not a nephew, it’s a sister. I should have a cute sister. I am not setting an example for her, but I should protect her well.

My consciousness became tranced.

Not long after, I realized that the children in my arms had grown up a lot.

His eyes opened, his black eyes staring at people, would open his mouth and giggle. He would smile as soon as he saw me.

I can't help laughing and teasing him.

But sometimes, I sleep in a daze and dream of that foreigner.

In a daze, I seemed to see the foreigner standing in the dark. He stood beside the bed, looking down at the little baby lying on the bed.

As soon as he looked up, his red eyes stared at me.

"He will not live to be ten years old. Before he is ten years old, he will encounter an accident."

I suddenly woke up.

This nightmare began to haunt me.

When I woke up in the morning, the young man in the mirror was no longer energetic.

I found that the people at home also showed sadness.

There is an extra Bodhisattva in the family. The Bodhisattva has a kind eyebrow and eyes, and his eyes that are narrowed into a slit seem to contain compassion.

But that dream has been haunting me.

The person appeared in his dream every night, staring at the child, as if he bent a little longer every time he appeared, and was closer to the baby.

"Mom, this won't work...what is that thing? Why did you focus on Xiaobao..."

I heard the cry of the woman. Through the wall, I could clearly hear the sighs and cry of the two women.

"What the hell are you going to do!" I shouted in my dream.

The man bent over, turned his head to look at me, curled up the corners of his lips, and actually smiled.

The child's cry suddenly woke me up.

I left the room and looked at the situation in the next room with a gloomy expression.

It should be my mother's woman holding the child and circling around the room.

"Wake you up. Go to bed early. It will be fine after a while. You should also understand your brother and sister-in-law. After giving birth, your sister-in-law has to take care of her." The woman wanted to speak and sighed.

I looked at the child who was crying loudly, and my soft heart seemed to be tightly held.

"I'll do it. Mom, you sleep for a while." I took the child over, wrapped him in a quilt, let him lie on my shoulder, patted his back, and hummed a little song that was not tuned.

I was walking around the house, and the child's crying gradually became less and less.

I walked to the balcony, took a casual glance, and saw the light in the stairwell opposite.

There was someone standing there, staring at me through the window.

He smiled at me and bowed slightly.

My heartbeat almost stopped.

The child stopped crying.

I put the child back to the woman, watched them fall asleep, and closed the door.

I turned to look at the window. From a distance, I could still see the figures in the window opposite.

I grabbed a coat, took the key, opened the door softly, and rushed out.

It's that person! That thing!

As soon as I ran downstairs, my steps stopped.

The man was at the entrance of the building. The dim street light shone on him. There was no figure on the ground.

"Hello, Mr. Zhao." He stroked his chest with one hand and was polite. "Did you believe what I said to you?"

"What are you going to do?" I gritted my teeth and felt a little more afraid.

"It's just a small deal. I'm a businessman and a middleman. I can save your nephew. That's your brother's bloodline, your family's bloodline. You should know that you're just an adopted child..." The man had a smile on his face, and spoke in standard Mandarin with a foreigner's face.

I felt cold hands and feet.

I think something is wrong.

adoption?

How could I be adopted?

But I knew in my heart that I was indeed adopted. I was my biological father and my adoptive father were comrades-in-arms. After my biological father died, my mother remarried and I was lonely. It was my adoptive father who adopted me, took care of me, and treated me like my biological son. My adoptive mother and brother also treated me well and never regarded me as an adopted child.

The adoptive father died of illness five or six years ago. He could not see his brother marry and have children. This also became his regret.

"As long as you want, I only need your soul to move your life to your nephew. Your nephew can grow up healthy and marry and have children. As for you, you should have lived to be ninety years old, and you were old. If you were to share it with your nephew, he could live to fifty. What do you think?" the man said again, "It only needs your soul after death."

His tone seemed to be the kind of shouting "just 998" in a inferior TV commercial.

Putting aside this tone, I still feel that something is wrong.

Living to fifty years old...

Didn't live to be fifty...

Who didn't live to be fifty?

"What the hell are you?" I heard my questioning.

"It doesn't matter who I am. You will encounter an accident tomorrow at noon. Please rest assured that you will be safe. You can live to be 91 years old. It's someone else who dies. I'm so sorry, that one doesn't want to make a deal with me." He said, and the hand stroked his chest again, lowered his head and took two steps back.

He exited the aperture of the street light, but it was not pitch black around him, and his figure suddenly disappeared.

I opened my eyes wide until the night wind made me feel a little chill that I suddenly understood what had happened just now.

The next day at noon, when I was having lunch absent-mindedly, the chandeliers in the cafeteria smashed down.

My heart beat wildly, but I found that the falling chandelier did not hurt anyone.

But there were terrifying screams in the cafeteria.

I stared at the chef who was lifted out of the kitchen. The chef was covered in blood, his left hand was completely broken, with only a thin layer of skin connected.

I heard the people around me talking, and then I realized that the chef was cutting big bones just now. The big noise from the chandelier hit the chef's hand trembled and actually cut it to his wrist.

Blood squirted all over the kitchen.

Before I got off work, everyone in the company heard about the chef's death.

The whole thing is too bizarre.

If the chandelier hits people to death, it may be a human accident, but the chef's death is obviously not.

I felt a chill on my back and my teeth began to tremble.
Chapter completed!