I don't know when, married women in my hometown began to have a second child. Beautiful its name is afraid of the child alone, so another brother and sister to accompany him. When my mother asked me tentatively if I liked children, I replied coldly that I didn't, especially ugly children.

         However, she did not listen to my advice, and I also know that the tentative questions and answers are just a process to make her self-satisfied. She began to prepare for pregnancy, taking pills every day that looked like dead skin and dirt after a scrub, and she told me that she worked hard and suffered. I will not pity and love her, after all, I did not give birth to the child, she wants to pregnant is not my child.

        I vaguely remember watching a TV show about female crime. The juvenile delinquent sprinkled the cake with rat poison, and then the stepmother died, as did the child in her stomach. I think it's a tricky trick, like toxicity, toxic effects, or the taste of the added food. If it had been me, I would have used paraquat, a deadly herbicide.

       Anger takes strength, but I don't have it. I was selfish, I told myself, I had moved quickly from adolescence to adulthood, and I knew that if she got pregnant, the baby would be a nightmare for me. Like sharing what little love, material, and attention I have left. I plotted things like escaping to Germany and never coming back, or marrying a man who would take me far away. This woman is my nightmare, especially when she says "I love you" with a smile on her face, but she will never know that I don't need her love at all.

       When I woke up, I was on the bus, a century-old bus with a big engine behind the driver's seat and an automatic door. "Where am I going? I wondered. It was a parallel world, a run-down little city, going from path to path, up the stairs, and then opening the door. There is no hot water in the water heater. Fortunately, it is acceptable to take a cold shower in summer. The bathroom window was open, facing the sky, and there were no buildings.

       When the sun went down, my body hair and hair fell off and ran down the drain with the water. The broom could not clean it, and I fell asleep again until the evening. I have always been superstitious. My grandmother told me that two months before I was born, she and the old ladies in the village met to have their fortune told by the goddess, who told her that there would be a man in the family. Later, when grandma was talking about it, I told her that maybe I killed your grandson, and I took his place.

        The old people in the village always like to tell me in front of my grandmother, such as I swear, I did what naughty things, in my kindergarten, there is a girl older than me, I don't like her, she is not good-looking, short fat, cheeks dotted with two pieces of white. She always loved to stop me with her two little sisters and then told me that her mother would beat me because I bullied her. I do not know her, I have a matter of three principle, and then the last straw, I said in my mind: "she will die."

         In the countryside, the red and white event will set up a plate, our hometown is called "set up the teapot", a lot of candy and snacks, as well as meat and drinks. When I was a child, my grandmother and aunt used to carry me to such parties. I have not eaten the chicken leg in the banquet for a long time, although my grandmother would make chicken soup for me to drink, and then save the chicken leg for me. But I still like the soy sauce chicken leg in the banquet, which is the most professional red and white wedding cook in the village.

       Did anyone die today? That's the question I ask grandma the most. Before my aunt died, every time she wrapped the soy sauce drumsticks in a red plastic bag, I knew someone had died. I ate the big aunt's funeral soy sauce chicken leg, I took the chicken leg to chew, funeral Taoist priest is doing the law, playing sad music. There is a man in my neighborhood who plays the trumpet. I see him every time someone dies.

        When he rode his motorcycle with his musical instrument case, I always thought about which village the old man died today. Listening to the sounds of singing and fireworks at night, I could probably tell which village group it was. At the funeral of the big aunt, the half-eaten soy sauce chicken leg was knocked down on the ground by an ugly little girl, covered with dust. I stared at her, and she stepped on my chicken leg like it was nothing. I picked up the spare plate on the table and hit her on the head. She burst into tears.

       Taoist priest's ritual was interrupted by our crying noise, he joked that "the two children miss the dead so much, she must be very happy in the spring". A voice from the crowd said, "there's a real cry, there's a fake cry." I don't think I'm a fake crier. There will be no soy sauce drumsticks and my big aunt will be gone. Until now I even forget her appearance, only remember thin thin weak, she most like me, I still remember the taste of soy sauce chicken leg, but since then, I don't eat chicken leg.

        The eldest aunt's daughter is married and lives in a town 60 kilometers from here. Only the big uncle was left in the shabby house. The old uncle packed his bags and prepared to go to the capital city to find a job. The house was empty, and there was nothing there. The eldest uncle said that when he grew old, he would live with his daughter. He gave us his television set, which was broken and on the high tide, and the picture on the screen was green, and then the bottom left was black, and the local TV anchors were taping the news of the day, and they were getting quieter and quieter.

        After my aunt died, my uncle had faith, but I didn't know what faith was, or superstition. I just wondered why there was a Swiss flag hanging in the room of the Chinese. Grandma didn't have much culture. She didn't know what Switzerland was or where it was. Later, when I began to believe myself, I knew it was Christianity.

        At my aunt's funeral and at my grandfather's funeral, my aunt and my father, the children, both read their condolences. Everybody clap. I've got a message of condolence for my mother. Condolences to the word in the village is a template, first introduce who you are, the relationship with the dead person, then about dead people's sense of honor, to their own, the past and the s China is poor, most of the people die without the experience of happiness life, now the country's rich development, they have died, think is poor.

        If my mother dies, my condolences will be simple. "I'm so glad you're here for the funeral, you're welcome, you're welcome, let's put on the music." and I had a huge playlist that I was looking forward to playing at my mother's funeral.

       I don't remember much about my grandfather. I remember telling my grandmother when he was dying that he didn't expect to live long, but that he wanted to see me on my tenth birthday. He had died when I was eight.

       My mother always lied and tried to gauge my reaction to having a second child. She told me that she was pregnant and that I would see my baby brother and sister soon. I snuck into the village store, bought a bag of spicy dry tofu and soda, and told the boss that my grandmother's farm needed mowing and what pesticides would work better.

        He gave me paraquat, and I smuggled it back, and hid it in my flowers, and I planted two cannas, and within a year it had spread into a little cluster. There is a big VAT at the door, which is planted with lotus, and I caught in the yan pond of small fish. My neighbor is a doctor in the village, and her clinic is next to the shop, not far away is a garbage, when I was a child always love and the boys in the village to the garbage, taobao, I always picked up a lot of medical waste, such as syringes, bottles of medicine, and then with a syringe to suck out the last two drops of liquid into a bottle. I always sat in front of the tank, making the poison, and the experimenter was the fish in the tank.

       I forgot to repeat the experiment many times, and the fish finally died. It may have been from thirst, or I pinched it, but I believe it was from my medicine.

       It's now October and my mother will be back in two months. When I play with the children in the village, I always look forward to the future. They ask me what my dream is and where I want to go. Then they answer their want to be a doctor, want to go to the capital city; Want to be a teacher, want to go to the capital to see the raising of the national flag; And I want to sleep at home instead of going to school and doing my homework. I smiled and said my ideal was to be a killer and then go to Germany.