Chapter 81: Dodo

Dodo looked up, revealing a big smile.

“Thank you, Uncle.” She said politely.

The young man with a fierce expression momentarily froze at Dodo’s innocent smile.

“Where are you going?” the young man asked.

“I’m going to find my brother,” Dodo said, struggling to hold her umbrella open.

“Your brother is at Xicheng Primary School, right?” the young man said.

“Wow, how do you know?” Dodo’s face filled with surprise.

“I guessed. It’s raining so hard—I’ll walk you there.”

“No thanks, I have an umbrella, and I know the way.”

Dodo had already opened her umbrella and stepped beneath it.

“Goodbye, Uncle.”

Dodo walked under her umbrella, checked the road, and headed toward Xicheng Primary School—she truly knew the way.

But as she walked, Dodo suddenly felt something was wrong and turned to look behind her.

There, she saw two green pant legs and a pair of military-green work boots, soaked by rain; she recognized them instantly. She turned, tilted her umbrella backward, and strained her neck upward—sure enough, it was the same uncle from earlier.

“Why are you following me?” Dodo asked.

Remembering her parents’ warnings about bad people, she grew slightly wary.

“I’m not following you. I’m going to Xicheng Primary School to pick someone up,” the young man said.

“Pick up who?” Innocent as ever, Dodo instantly dropped her guard.

“I… my little brother.”

“Oh, your brother goes to the same school as my brother!” Dodo said, delighted.

“Oh, yeah. You have a brother, I have a little brother…” the young man murmured softly.

He seemed to say something else, but his voice was too quiet, drowned out by the rain—Dodo didn’t hear it.

She didn’t care anymore, walked into a nearby alley, emerged from it, and there, across the street, was her brother’s school—Xicheng Primary School.

But the moment she stepped into the alley, she felt someone grab her from behind.

“I can walk by myself, you don’t need to carry me.”

Even now, Dodo still naively thought he wanted to carry her.

But then, this little fool began to sense something was wrong.

He said nothing, strode forward, his boots splashing large waves of water.

The umbrella in Dodo’s hand nearly slipped to the ground.

“Put me down! I want to walk myself! Put me down…”

Dodo struggled, kicking her short legs wildly; her kaleidoscope fell from her hand to the ground.

Seeing her struggle, the young man tilted his head, clamped the umbrella handle between his chin and shoulder, freed one hand, and clamped it tightly around Dodo’s neck.

“Don’t scream, or I’ll kill you.”

The young man’s face twisted with cruel ferocity, even more monstrous—but Dodo’s face was pressed to the ground, so she couldn’t see.

Her neck was crushed; she struggled to pry his fingers loose, but she was too small—her soft, pudgy hands had no effect at all.

A suffocating sensation spread from her throat to her entire body, as if a dull blade had pierced her, as if countless steel needles were stabbing into her lungs. Soon, her eyes widened, her face turned blue-purple, her hands went limp, and her whole body collapsed.

This painful memory was mirrored back to Shen Siyuan, who was watching it, making him feel it as if it were his own.

Then darkness swept over his vision—the memory broke off here. When he regained awareness, he found himself inside a dilapidated house.

Dodo sat up, frightened, scanning her surroundings.

It was a civilian home: red wooden windows, weathered by wind and rain, covered in spiderwebs, every pane of glass shattered.

The room was piled with debris—newspapers, bricks, wood, and a coal stove. A wooden door, tightly shut, was locked from the outside.

Dodo tried to get up and go to the window, but found her whole body weak and limp, no strength at all; her soaked clothes and hair made her feel miserable.

“Dad… Mom…” Dodo whispered, her voice trembling with sobs.

But no one answered. She looked around fearfully, then noticed her umbrella lying nearby—but her kaleidoscope was gone.

She scrambled over, clutching the umbrella to her chest, as if holding it would bring her some comfort.

But soon, soaked through, she grew cold and aching—especially her throat, which was bruised purple; even breathing hurt.

That was why she dared not cry loudly—it was simply too painful.

“Dad… Mom… Brother…”

She whispered, sobbing quietly, filled with helplessness. She reached out a small hand, touched her neck—and immediately pulled it back.

“Dodo hurts so much… Dodo feels so bad… I want to go home… sob sob…”

“Dodo will be good from now on… never run away again… sob sob…”

…

Perhaps she cried herself tired, grew sleepy. Add to that the rain, the shock—she developed a high fever. Her cheeks flushed red, and her body curled up instinctively.

But she clutched the umbrella tightly in her arms—now, only this umbrella seemed to offer her any comfort.

After an unknown length of time, Dodo was jolted awake by the sound of a door opening.

She tried desperately to open her eyes, but her whole body ached, her limbs limp, utterly without strength.

“Mom~” Dodo whispered faintly.

No one answered. She called again: “Dad.”

Still no response. Her mind was already foggy; she had almost forgotten she’d been kidnapped.

She felt someone approaching, struggled to open her eyes, trying to see who it was.

When she finally opened them, she saw the monstrous face—and only then did she remember.

“Uncle…” she whispered timidly.

It was the same uncle who had kidnapped her that afternoon—he still held an axe used for chopping firewood.

Dodo’s once-pale face was now dirty, tinged with feverish red; her blue-and-white dress was filthy, like a flower trampled by a storm.

But the man’s expression was cold, showing not a trace of pity.

“You have a brother. I have a little brother too,” he crouched down, staring at Dodo lying on the ground.

Dodo remembered their earlier conversation.

The man gave a light laugh but offered no explanation.

Then he raised his axe and brought it down straight onto Dodo’s neck.

“Don’t blame me. Blame your father…”

Dodo shut her eyes tight—and then felt a searing pain in her neck, followed by warmth spreading outward.

Dodo opened her eyes, trying to see what had happened.

She saw blood staining her dress, flowing toward the umbrella clutched in her arms, soaking the canopy, turning the handle crimson.

Dodo was too young, and her consciousness was fading—she didn’t sense anything strange.

But Shen Siyuan, observing everything from a third-person perspective, noticed something odd.

This oil-paper umbrella must have been waterproofed—otherwise, how could it shield from rain?

But if so, why was Dodo’s blood being absorbed by the canopy? And the handle too?

This umbrella… was unusual.

At that moment, the young man swung his axe again—Dodo’s bright, pure eyes lost their light, and her consciousness plunged into darkness.