Chapter 1 — Four Hundred Kilometers to Home

Every time I returned home, I had to stand inside the garage for forty minutes to undergo total body disinfection. Because my younger sister suffered from a severe congenital immune deficiency, any trace of outside bacteria could easily claim her life. Yet every single day, I had to go to school, ride the crowded bus, and walk through the bustling market, carrying an invisible and deadly threat all over my body. Eventually, even forty minutes of disinfection was no longer enough. The day my sister was hospitalized, the doctor pronounced that her condition was a fatal complication triggered by a common cold. When Mother returned, she cast a single glance in my direction. That piercing look is something I shall never, not for the rest of my life, be able to forget.

It was the virus you brought back into this house.

The very next day, they packed me off to our grandmother’s brick kiln in the distant countryside. Grandmother was eighty-one years old, her hearing so profoundly impaired that she could only perceive the unmistakable rustle of paper money. I hauled heavy bricks, shoveled dense earth, pushed creaking carts, and labored relentlessly from the earliest crack of dawn until deep into the pitch-black night. The blood blisters on my palms grew layer upon layer, hardening until they stacked fourfold. During the summer when I turned fourteen, the old kiln suddenly collapsed. It took grandmother three agonizing days to dig out her hidden jar of savings from the suffocating ruins, yet she never bothered to unearth a single additional brick. I floated weightlessly through the dry, scorching air, drifting across four hundred kilometers of winding roads to return to that house. My sister was standing beneath the radiant sunlight, her small hand raised to gently welcome a passing butterfly.

Father, the doctor says my immune system has completely recovered now! I can finally go outside!

Father wept tears of pure joy, his voice trembling with emotion.

Our family can finally live like ordinary human beings at last.

Mother unhesitatingly booked three airline tickets.

Tomorrow, we are taking you to Universal Studios, just like you have always dreamed!

Not a single person remembered that there was a fourth member belonging to this family. I stood quietly and watched them, my ethereal body feeling so featherlight that a stray gust of wind might blow me away entirely. Outside the window, the sharp sound of pebbles striking glass suddenly echoed, repeating over and over again. It was a dull, grey swallow. Clutched firmly in its beak was a jagged fragment of a broken kiln brick, and it kept launching itself relentlessly against the glass pane. I had once built a safe nest for it under the sheltering eaves of that brick kiln. It used its fragile wings to remember the lingering warmth of a pair of human hands. Only the bird knew that beneath those heavy, ruined heaps of rubble, something far more precious than mere mud had been buried.

Father, what is that strange sound outside the window?

Nien Sinh lifted her head from the living room sofa, her hands still clutching the newly unsealed Universal Studios visitor guide. Father, who was busy cutting fruit in the kitchen, poked his head out toward the balcony.

It is probably just a tree branch scratching against the glass. Pay no attention to it.

Have you chosen your sunscreen yet, Sinh Sinh?

The ultraviolet rays will be exceptionally strong tomorrow. The doctor said we must still take good care of your skin.

I have already chosen! Look at this one, Father, SPF fifty. Is this enough?

More than enough. Just pack an extra bottle so you can reapply whenever necessary.

I stood just inside the glass balcony door, silently gazing at the swallow. Patches of its feathers had fallen away, and the tip of its beak was bloodied from repeated impacts, yet it stubbornly refused to drop the broken piece of brick. Over and over again. Tiny, faint white scratches began to mar the smooth surface of the glass. I raised my hand, desperately wanting to touch it. My hand simply passed right through the glass, right through the empty air, incapable of making contact with anything at all.

Clack.

The brick fragment finally slipped from the swallow’s beak, struck the outer edge of the window ledge, bounced once, and rolled down into the balcony drainage gutter. The swallow tilted its head, stared at the closed windowpane for three long seconds, and then beat its wings and flew away. I knew it would return. Every single afternoon, it would come back. Back at the kiln, it had always been as punctual as a ticking alarm clock.

Mother, do you think this itinerary looks good? The first day we visit the Wizarding World, the second day we go to the dinosaur zone, and the third day...

Nien Sinh clutched her phone and hurried over to mother’s side, her voice trembling with irrepressible excitement. Mother took the phone, glanced at it for a moment, and smiled warmly as she stroked the girl’s hair.

Very well, we shall follow your wishes entirely.

This is the first time our Sinh Sinh is traveling far away, so you may play however your heart desires.

The first time traveling far away. When I was ten years old and sent away, I had sat on a dilapidated old train for eight long hours. Not a single soul came to see me off. The ticket inspector asked me where the adult accompanying me was, and I lied that they were right behind me. In truth, there was nobody behind me at all.

That is right, where did we put the passports?

Father walked out of the kitchen, his apron still untied.

In the second drawer of the study. All three booklets are kept together.

Mother did not even raise her head. Three booklets. As for mine, they must have forgotten about it long ago. Who knew, perhaps it was still crushed underneath the old desk in my former room. What did that room look like now, I wondered. I floated in to take a look. The door was tightly shut, the doorknob layered with a thick coat of dust. I passed straight through it. The room had been converted into a storage space. My bed was completely gone, replaced instead by several cardboard boxes and a brand-new treadmill. The treadmill still had its price tag dangling from the handle, likely purchased to assist Nien Sinh with her physical recovery exercises. The desk remained, but it was heavily piled with extracurricular textbooks and Lego sets belonging to Nien Sinh. The passport was nowhere to be found in the drawer. I slowly drifted around the room. It was merely a habit of mine to search, seeking a single tangible proof that I had once existed in this world.

Father!

Nien Sinh suddenly cried out. Her voice echoed from the living room, tinged with a hint of hesitation.

What is the matter?

That... did older sister go along with us?

Silence hung in the air for two full seconds. My entire soul froze stiff. Father’s voice drifted out from the kitchen, sounding entirely casual, as if he were discussing something utterly trivial.

Your sister is staying at grandmother’s place. She is doing quite well.

With her gloomy personality, she wouldn't know how to enjoy herself anyway.

Oh.

Nien Sinh murmured in response, asked no further questions, and immediately lowered her head back to her guidebook. Mother added a final remark.

We will figure it out when we return. For now, just focus on enjoying this trip to the fullest.

Figure it out when we return. By the time they uttered those words, I had already been dead for three days. The swallow returned once more. Clutched in its beak was another fragment, slightly smaller this time, its edges scorched a dark, charred black. That was a piece of brick from the inner lining of the furnace. It slammed itself against the window again. Time and time again, over and over. Nien Sinh raised her head to look.

Father, that bird has come back again.

How annoying, pecking at the window like that.

Pay it no mind, our family is leaving tomorrow anyway.

I squatted down beside the balcony, watching the swallow relentlessly throw itself against the glass. It was knocking on the door in my stead. Yet this was a door that, even when I was alive, I had never once managed to knock open.

Hey! Shoo! Go away!

Early the next morning, mother dragged her suitcase past the balcony. The swallow was perched quietly on the outer edge of the window ledge, three jagged brick fragments neatly piled beneath its feet. Mother waved her hand dismissively. The swallow beat its wings and stepped back twice, but it refused to fly away.

What kind of bird is this? Why does it keep crashing into our window?

Father walked out carrying a travel bag, glancing briefly at the creature.

There are probably insects hiding on the balcony.

Never mind it, let us hurry and leave. Our flight departs at ten o'clock.

Sinh Sinh! Have you gathered all your belongings?

Yes, yes, I am ready!

Nien Sinh dashed out wearing her backpack. Her newly purchased athletic shoes squeaked loudly against the polished floorboards. The family of three stood at the doorway changing their shoes. I stood directly in the midst of them. When mother bent down to tie her shoelaces, her elbow passed straight through my legs. There was no sensation whatsoever.

Let us go, let us go, do not miss the flight.

The moment the heavy door swung shut, I heard the crisp click of the deadbolt sliding securely into its frame. It was a sharp sound, chillingly reminiscent of breaking bones. The apartment instantly turned utterly hollow. The swallow remained outside the window. It picked up another brick fragment, tilted its head to stare at the tightly sealed window, and finally flapped its wings and flew away. It flew extremely low, grazing the green shrubbery of the residential complex, passing through the parking lot, and vanishing entirely behind the courtyard wall. I followed close behind it. In the realm of souls, there is no inherent concept of speed. Wherever one wishes to go, one arrives instantly. Yet I remained accustomed to the motion of walking. Step by step, pacing slowly. It seemed that as long as I maintained the posture of walking, I could still be considered a human being. Three days. From the moment the brick kiln collapsed until now, exactly three days had passed. When grandmother dug her savings jar out from the ruins, I had stood right beside her the entire time. She counted the money thrice over, wrapped it securely with a rubber band, and tucked it into the inner pocket of her quilted jacket. Then, she sat atop the pile of bricks and lit a cigarette, staring silently at the collapsed wreckage for a long while. I foolishly thought she was pondering my fate. In the end, she merely muttered to herself:

Can this kiln still be repaired? If not, we might as well sell this plot of land.

She did not even bother to make a phone call. Perhaps she truly forgot that someone was still buried beneath the debris. Or perhaps she remembered. But she was an eighty-one-year-old woman, half-deaf and nearly blind. Facing an entire collapsed kiln all by herself, digging alone for three days, the thing she managed to unearth was naturally what mattered most to her. Her savings jar. Not me. I did not hold any resentment toward her. Before I turned fourteen, I had harbored bitter grudges against countless people. Yet after dying, resentment transformed into a terribly exhausting affair. So exhausting that I no longer had the strength left to hate. They were gone for five full days. During those five days, the swallow came faithfully every single afternoon. It carried back broken fragments of brick gathered from all sorts of places. Some were from the kiln body, some were ash-grey, and others were still caked with fresh earth. Piece by piece, they were meticulously arranged outside the window ledge, as if it were trying to piece something back together. By the fourth day, there were already eleven fragments neatly lined up on the window sill. The arrangement followed no discernible pattern, yet I recognized every single one of them. The brick pieces varied in shade, originating from different parts of the furnace. It was transporting every single brick of the kiln that had buried me, bringing them piece by piece to this place. Late in the evening of the fifth day, the sound of a key turning in the door lock echoed through the silence.

I am exhausted to death...

Nien Sinh was the first to rush inside, tossing her backpack carelessly onto the sofa.

Sinh Sinh, do not just throw your things around!

I know, I know! Father, I am hungry, what are we having for dinner?

There are frozen dumplings in the refrigerator, go boil some first while I unpack the luggage.

Everything proceeded just as usual. Their travel photos had already been posted on social media. A photograph of the three of them smiling before the Hogwarts castle received well over a hundred and twenty likes. Someone left a comment asking:

Does your family not have two children? Where is the older one?

Father replied:

The older one is staying in the countryside with grandmother. She has an introverted personality and does not like going out, haha.

An introverted personality became the convenient excuse for leaving me behind. Yet they had never once bothered to ask me.

Mother, look at this window sill, there is so much rubble here.

Nien Sinh walked past the balcony holding her bowl of dumplings. Mother stepped over to take a look, frowning slightly.

Did a bird bring all this trash here? Disgusting.

She raised her hand and swept across the ledge, sending every single brick fragment tumbling down toward the drainage gutter beneath the balcony. Eleven pieces. The swallow had flown eleven separate journeys. With a single clattering sound, everything vanished completely. I stood silently at the side, watching the fragments fall. At that exact moment, I felt as though my own body were shattering along with them. There was no pain; the dead do not feel pain. But something was sinking deeply. Sinking into a place far deeper than the physical body itself. On the sixth day when the swallow returned, the window sill was entirely empty. It clutched a brand-new brick fragment in its beak, circling twice outside the window. Finding none of the previous pieces, it landed on the ledge and remained in a daze for a very long time. Then it began to peck furiously at the glass pane. It was no longer the gentle taps of the past. It was truly putting forth all its might, pecking relentlessly until the tip of its beak stained red with blood.

Tap, tap, tap.

That bird is here again!

Nien Sinh shrieked from inside the room.

Annoying to death, pecking every single day.

Father’s voice drifted out from the bedroom. Mother strode over to the balcony, yanked the screen door open, and waved her hand aggressively at the swallow.

Shoo! Get lost!

The swallow startled, stepping backward as the brick fragment slipped from its beak. Yet it refused to fly away. It retreated to the balcony railing, tilting its head to gaze fixedly at mother.

Is this bird sick or something?

Mother slammed the screen door shut and locked the inner glass pane securely.

Should we buy some anti-bird spikes and stick them outside?

Father suggested from within.

Yes, let us buy some tomorrow.

I stood right before the creature. It seemed as though it could truly see me. In the depths of its bright, unyielding eyes, I thought I saw something I could not name.