Chapter 80: Doudou

The [Ten Thousand Souls Banner], as the supreme magical artifact of the demonic path, was utterly tyrannical.

Even immortals and gods, once drawn inside the Ten Thousand Souls Banner, would be utterly powerless, enslaved from within to without, forever bound to their master’s will, never again knowing freedom.

Little ghost Lin Yunduo, though peculiar in some ways, upon entering the Ten Thousand Souls Banner, was entirely subject to Shen Siyuan’s control—her memories included.

Earlier, during the car ride, the child was too young to explain many things clearly, so it was better to directly examine her memories for a more straightforward understanding.

Doudou stood beneath the eaves, watching the heavy rain outside.

Both her father and mother were at work, and her brother had gone to school; the house was empty except for Doudou.

Before leaving, her mother had instructed her not to go out alone, promising she would return home soon after work.

Doudou was obedient; she watched TV for a while, but soon found it boring…

She played with her doll for a bit longer, but soon lost interest again…

Looking at the empty house, she missed her father and mother, and wished her brother would come home to play with her.

At that moment, the previously clear sky suddenly burst into heavy rain.

Doudou stood beneath the eaves, watching as the rain washed down all the flowers her mother had planted in the yard; she let out a long, sorrowful sigh.

She remembered her brother—he hadn’t brought an umbrella when he left for school at noon.

So she hurried back inside and looked toward a red plastic bucket in the corner, where an umbrella lay.

Doudou hesitated—should she go deliver the umbrella to her brother?

If her brother got soaked, he’d catch a cold, and if he caught a cold, he’d have to take bitter medicine…

Her brother hated bitter medicine, and Doudou hated it too…

So Doudou decided to take the umbrella to her brother.

She was clever—she knew the way. Her mother had taken her to her brother’s school, and her brother had told her exactly how to get there.

“Take bus number 6, it stops six times, and you’ll reach my school…”

Thinking of this, Doudou eagerly pulled the umbrella out of the red plastic bucket.

It was an oil-paper umbrella, exquisitely crafted, with a pattern of pine trees and cranes painted on its surface.

This was Doudou’s favorite umbrella; once, during a rainstorm, her father had knocked it away, and she’d gotten angry, run out into the rain, and declared she’d let the raindrops kill her so her father would never have Doudou again…

Later, her brother had laughed at her, saying raindrops couldn’t possibly kill anyone.

Shen Siyuan, poring over Doudou’s memories, noticed the interior décor of her home bore no resemblance to the twenty-first century.

Whether the television, the refrigerator, or the wooden sofa—all were styled in the 1980s.

Yet from these appliances, it was clear Doudou’s family lived comfortably; her parents were likely high-ranking workers.

At this moment, Doudou had already put on her yellow rain boots, held a kaleidoscope in one hand, and opened the umbrella as she stepped out of the house.

The little one was sharp—before leaving, she’d pulled a few coins from her red piggy bank.

As for why she carried the kaleidoscope, she thought of it as her telescope; once she reached the school gate, she could use it to spot her brother inside.

Shen Siyuan followed Doudou’s memories as she walked forward.

The rain poured heavily, shrouding the world in mist; for a five-year-old child to be out alone at such a time was extremely dangerous.

Yet Doudou felt nothing of the danger—she was even cheerful and excited.

Raindrops struck the umbrella with a patter, and Doudou happily spun the handle, sending water spraying in all directions…

Seeing puddles on the road, she deliberately stepped into them, her laughter ringing out with every splash…

…

“Three, eight, one, and six—I know how to read, I’m very smart…”

Standing beneath the bus stop, Doudou twirled her umbrella triumphantly, water spraying everywhere; she didn’t notice a man nearby staring at her intently.

“Haitang Station—those getting off, please hurry.”

A bus slowly pulled into the stop; the announcement wasn’t electronic—it came from a young girl.

She was the bus conductor; in the early 1980s, there was no such thing as unattended buses—everything was manual.

Doudou widened her eyes, saw the bus stop, and hurried forward with her short legs.

But she forgot to close her umbrella; it got caught on the door, nearly pulling the conductor down.

“Slow down, little one—are you alone? Where are your parents?”

The conductor chuckled as she asked.

“My dad and mom are at work—I’m going to find my brother at school.”

Doudou struggled to fold the umbrella; it was too large for her. Opening it was easy, but closing it was hard. Seeing this, the conductor got up from her seat, walked over, helped her carry the umbrella inside, and folded it for her.

“You’re going to Xicheng Primary School to find your brother, right?”

Along this bus route, there was only one Xicheng Primary School.

Doudou nodded. She didn’t actually know if her brother’s school was called Xicheng Primary, but it was a school—that was enough.

“When we get there, I’ll call you,” the conductor smiled.

The conductor didn’t consider calling the police or notifying her parents; in this era, children wandering alone was far too common—hardly anyone paid attention, as if it were perfectly normal.

At this moment, another young man entered, holding a black umbrella. He was short but powerfully built, his face covered in acne, a scar cutting through his right eyebrow—his appearance was menacing, clearly not a good person.

Seeing him, the conductor’s voice dropped by a third.

She asked softly, “Where are you getting off?”

“The train station.”

“Five cents.”

The young man paid for his ticket, then walked to the last row of seats.

After he left, Doudou, who had been standing nearby, stepped forward and handed over the few coins tightly clenched in her palm.

She was wearing a dress with no pockets, so she’d held the coins in her hand the whole time.

The conductor looked at her and chuckled, “Little bean, you don’t need to pay.”

Doudou frowned, “I’m already a big girl.”

“You’re not even a meter and twenty centimeters tall, can’t even fold your own umbrella—what big girl?” the conductor teased.

Before Doudou could reply, she added, “Go find a seat quickly, don’t want you to fall.”

Doudou hurried to sit down beside her, placing her umbrella beside her.

The rain outside the window continued…

“One stop… two stops… three stops…”

Watching the rain outside, Doudou didn’t dare look away, counting each bus stop aloud.

Along the way, passengers came and went; the rain hadn’t reduced the crowd.

In this era, people traveled either by bicycle or bus.

So, ironically, more people took the bus because of the rain.

Yet when they saw Doudou, they only glanced once and said nothing.

“Xicheng Primary School—anyone getting off? Oh, little girl, you’re at your stop…”

The conductor’s shrill voice rang out inside the bus; Doudou snapped to attention and hurriedly dragged her umbrella off the bus.

Only after stepping off did she realize she hadn’t opened her umbrella—the rain now poured directly onto her head and face.

But just then, she felt something block the rain above her.

Doudou looked up—and saw a black umbrella shielding her sky.

A sudden thunderclap cracked across the heavens, the thunder rolling, the rain falling even harder…