This strange fear felt like it was a layer of gauze, not so real.

I seemed very scared, but I was a little dissatisfied.

I feel that my mind is drifting away, but my thinking is very clear.

I dragged it for a long time before riding my bike and returning home from work.

I stood under that street light for a long time.

When I got home, I found that my brother and sister-in-law were there, and my sister-in-law and her family were also sitting around the table. The baby was placed in the bedroom, and the bedroom door was open, and he could see his sleeping face at a glance.

"Why did you come back?"

"Is there something wrong in the unit? I heard..." my brother stopped talking.

I couldn't listen. I thought of the broken hand, so I shuddered.

I was absent-minded in one supper.

I found that the family at the table was like this. Everyone seemed to have something to worry about.

When it was late at night, the child cried twice, changed his diapers, and fed his breasts, and the whole house became quiet.

The guest has already left.

I touched the window and found that there was no one on the opposite building.

I waited for a while, but couldn't wait, so I changed my clothes and tiptoed downstairs.

There is only one bicycle parked by the neighbor under the street lights.

I don't know if I am disappointed or grateful. I should be disappointed more.

Suddenly, a figure turned from behind the pole of the street light.

The foreigner saluted me, "Good night, Mr. Zhao."

I forgot to breathe for a moment.

"It seems that you have already considered it." The man said, showing a kind smile to me, stretching out his hand and signaling me to follow him.

I hesitated for a long time, and he kept that posture unchanged.

I finally gritted my teeth and walked towards him.

My heart was beating, and I was a little excited. I had something to say, but I didn't know where to start.

The feeling of everything covered in gauze appeared again.

The man walked forward without looking back at me, and didn't say anything.

His footsteps were a little loud in the night, but my footsteps were covered.

I walked out of this alley and turned two more turns, and I saw the familiar courtyard.

I still remember this was an empty house. I heard that many years ago, the owner went abroad and moved out. He was an intellectual, a great scholar, some said he was a businessman, and some said he made a lot of money. Some said that his daughter married a foreigner and followed him abroad.

All kinds of rumors have made this courtyard extraordinary.

There was no big lock that used to be hung on the yard gate.

The man pushed open the door and made another gesture of asking for help.

I walked in and saw a scenery I had never seen before through the courtyard wall.

The tall ginkgo trees have towering crowns, and the yard seems to be covered with a layer of yellow velvet blanket.

I was shocked and looked back at the yard wall.

Such a tall ginkgo tree cannot be covered by a small courtyard wall in any case.

The man closed the wooden door, without a door bolt, and without a lock.

He walked past me, stepping on the soft ginkgo leaves, and a squeaking sound was made under his feet.

I stood for a while before following me.

The leaves were thick, really soft like a velvet blanket. I walked forward with one foot deep and one foot shallow, and suddenly I felt a gust of wind blowing.

The wind was not strong, but the leaves were rustling and falling down one after another.

The leaves on the ground were swept over and were emptied out, revealing the stone-paved ground.

I squinted my eyes, and when the wind stopped, I looked around and saw that all the leaves were gone.

My forehead felt cold. When I looked up, I found that snowflakes were falling down.

I was surprised again.

"Mr. Zhao." The man shouted and stood at the door waiting for me.

I walked over with some anxiety.

Inside the door is a reception room with bright windows and clean windows. The furniture is all made of wood, and the style is very classic, but it is Western-style furniture.

The man made tea, which was also black tea. He also prepared snacks and used the three-layer porcelain plate, which also had beautiful flower patterns printed on it.

"Please use." The man pushed the plate.

I didn't move, turned around and looked out the window.

It was already snowing outside the window, like the leaves that were fluttering before, but now there were snowflakes.

The inside of the house is very warm, as if the heating is turned on, making people unable to feel the cold outside.

The man didn't urge me to eat, but got up and took out a thick notebook from the cabinet next to me.

That book looks like it's been a year.

The brown cover is slightly yellowed. The whole book is the size of a 14-inch notebook, and the width is as thick as a hand. There are also gilded characters and floral characters on the cover, which I don’t understand.

I instinctively wanted to remember what I saw, but the thought that came up just now surprised me.

Notebook...what notebook?

I was just confused when the man came over with a notebook, with ink and quill in the other hand.

He pushed open the dim sum plate and spread the book in front of me.

A table is drawn on the paper of the book, the date is easy to recognize, and the name is written in various countries.

From top to bottom, there are about twenty signatures on the left page. The rest are still blank.

Looking at the handwriting, the signature of the date and middle column is written by one person, and the real signature is the right column.

"Mr. Zhao, this is not the first time I have done this business. I have a great reputation. If you have any doubts, you can also talk to my past clients." The man said.

This is another typical demonic tone.

demon?

I was stunned again.

"As long as you sign your name, your nephew can share your life. This is a one-time transaction and you cannot regret it. You don't have to worry about me hurting you and your nephew. But you, please think clearly. Are you willing to share your life with your nephew? A person who has no blood relationship with you..."

"I think he is my nephew! My mother and my brother are like my biological son!" I subconsciously retorted.

"I'm sorry, I was rude." The other party apologized sincerely, "So, do you agree to this transaction?"

What happened recently came to my mind.

The sudden death of the chef, the pink face of the little baby, the frown of his family...

"Have you ever asked my brother and the others?" I asked.

"Of course. But they were hesitant." The man smiled, his hands on the table. "That was just a newborn, their first child. They had doubts about me, and their emotions were not as strong as that. They could have another child. They might not even be able to grow old. They might have divorced before that and they would marry each other."

I immediately thought of my biological mother, the woman who remarried immediately after my father died.

I feel humiliated and heartbroken.

But besides this negative emotion, I was still a little confused.

I don't seem to have a strong mood about the whole thing, and I shouldn't have such emotions.

"I have contacted you now, and you have the strongest intention. If you refuse, I can only give up on this business. That cute child... I'm so sorry..." The man spread his hands.

These words seemed to ignite a certain emotion in my heart. I remembered the past again, and memories appeared in my mind. I still remember how my adoptive father promised to adopt me at once. It was because of his comrades-in-arms that he came to visit more after his biological father died. He heard about his biological mother's remarriage, and saw that he was playing alone in the mud, dirty and unattended to take care of him, and was so hungry that he picked himself up and took him home.

I looked at a column of signatures on the book. I reached out and flipped forward. The man didn't stop me.

I seemed to see dedication people from those dense names and strong love.

I exhaled and grabbed the quill.

I'm not used to using quill pens, but this pen is like a pencil and writes very smoothly.

I signed my name on the latest space.

The pen and ink fell on the paper, and in an instant, I saw a touch of red flashing through the handwriting and disappearing. What was finally presented was the pitch-black handwriting.

The notebook and pen were taken back.

The man wrote the date and the little baby's name in front of me in the first two columns.
To be continued...