If You Have the Guts to Seduce a Child, You Have the Guts to Speak!

Shen Le turned abruptly, staring at the familiar residential building, the familiar unit, and the half-body leaning urgently out of the window, his expression grim.

Shen Le spun around like a whirlwind and sprinted over. At the edge of the residential complex, in the green belt, a large crowd had already gathered, whispering and buzzing with noise. Relying on his height and strength, Shen Le squeezed through and shouted at the top of his lungs:

"Do not move the injured! Don't lift him up, don't let him roll over, don't move his head! Keep his airway clear, wait for the ambulance! Wait for the ambulance!"

Police cars and ambulances wailed as they tore toward the scene. Running even faster than the police cars was the young officer Shen Le knew, Comrade Shi Guangbing. Shouting, "Make way, I'm a police officer," he dove into the crowd and immediately began to command:

"Clear out, everyone clear out! Make way for the ambulance! You lot! Yes, you! Stop standing there, move back! Protect the scene!!!"

Before he could shout much more, the ambulance arrived in a flash. The medical staff lifted a child from the green belt. With his neck, spine, and legs secured in basic splints, he was strapped to a stretcher, carried by two medics, and rushed into the vehicle.

Shen Le stood squeezed in the crowd, looking at the bloodstains on the child, his heart heavy:

It was that child.

The child who played the erhu.

The child whose family passed down puppets, the one who had run out to play with friends two days ago, stayed out all night, and was suspected to have been lured away by his puppet.

Two days later, how did he end up jumping from a building today?

Little Puppet, did you do this?

Was it you?

He was lost in thought, watching the child's parents rush down from the building at some point, wailing as they followed the ambulance;

Watching Shi Guangbing busy himself, setting up caution tape, questioning witnesses, and finding security to check the surveillance footage;

Watching several auxiliary police officers taking photos, questioning witnesses, or heading upstairs;

Listening to the onlookers whispering:

"What a tragedy. The kid was sawing wood every day, sawing wood, and when he wouldn't study, his family would beat him. The kid cried like..."

"I told you, you can't force a child. Look, now you've forced him into this!"

"Sigh, it's really hard to raise a child these days..."

After a long while, Comrade Shi Guangbing finally dragged his feet over, looking wilted. Seeing Shen Le, his eyes brightened slightly; he clearly remembered this man who lived alone in a large house and had rushed over to direct the rescue. Even so, he couldn't muster much enthusiasm, nodding at Shen Le listlessly:

"You're here too?"

"Yeah, I'm here too." Shen Le gave a bitter smile:

"Finished? Want to go grab a bite?"

The two found a random shop, ordered a bowl of beef noodles each, and ate in silence. Once full, Shen Le asked in a low voice:

"How is the child?"

"Still in emergency surgery."

"Suicide?"

"Preliminary judgment says yes."

"Then... you guys aren't held responsible?"

"I'm not, but my girlfriend is miserable." Shi Guangbing sighed, his chin and cheeks covered in stubble, which, combined with his massive dark circles, made him look exceptionally exhausted and pitiful:

"My girlfriend is an elementary school teacher. Even though it wasn't their school, the Education Bureau still has to hold meetings, then the school holds meetings, teachers have to screen every student, provide psychological counseling, talk to parents, fill out forms, keep records... Forget this week, she won't have time to see me next week either!"

Teachers have it hard these days, and children have it hard too; no one has it easy. Shen Le patted him sympathetically, and after finishing his meal, he returned home and stared at the puppet on his workbench:

Should he stop the repairs?

Should he burn it?

Even if he didn't burn it, should he lock it away? Find a lead box to put it in and bury it underground? Or find a wooden box, draw a circle of ink lines on the surface, and drive in seven soul-suppressing nails?

He reached out several times, picked up the puppet, and stopped again. Finally, remembering the scene from his previous memory where the old man held the puppet tightly, his back hunched, enduring the blows, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply:

"...Forget it. If I burn you like this, I would be failing the heart of your former owner who saved you. Let's wait a while longer. At least... give you a chance to defend yourself?"

"Little Puppet, is there anything else you can show me?"

He picked up the puppet's head and shook it, but there was no reaction. He practiced applying makeup for a long time until the puppet's face was perfectly painted, but still, nothing happened. He attached silk threads to the puppet, pulled and tugged, but it remained unresponsive...

"Still not talking? If you don't talk, I'm going to burn you! I really will!—Fine, I'll give you a Copper Fragment, let's see if you talk then!"

He pressed the Copper Fragment down. The next moment, Shen Le's vision went dark, as it had before.

This scene was darker and more cramped than the previous ones.

Inside a makeshift shelter made of bamboo poles crossed into a triangle and covered with reed mats—something between a shanty and a hideout—seven or eight children, ranging from three to ten years old, were huddled together, knees touching, surrounding an old man with gray hair.

In a stone pit in the center of the shack, a piece of broken wood as thick as a finger burned, providing the only light for this small space.

Such a crowded place... If I weren't just a memory, I would have clipped through the models, right?

Shen Le looked down at his legs, which were wedged between the corner of the shack and the children's backs, feeling helpless.

He looked toward the center by the faint firelight and saw the old man manipulating a puppet. Unlike the previous two times, it wasn't dressed in magnificent, colorful robes, but wrapped in a dusty little jacket. If not for the familiar cinnabar tear stains at the corners of its eyes, he would hardly have recognized the little fellow.

As the threads were pulled, the Little Puppet took a few steps forward. The old man's melodious singing began, unhurried and steady:

"The cow is still grazing on the hillside, but the cowherd doesn't know where he's gone. It wasn't that he was playing and lost the cow, that cowherd boy, Wang Erxiao..."

A familiar story, a familiar melody. Shen Le stood frozen in place, unable to help himself as he hummed along softly. The old man's raspy singing seemed to transport him back to his elementary school classroom, back to the days when teachers taught them to sing and told them stories of little heroes, stirring memories of that long-lost, youthful emotion:

"...Er Xiao walked obediently in the lead, guiding the enemy into our ambush. Suddenly, the sounds of gunfire and artillery erupted from all sides, and only then did the enemy realize they had been deceived..."

The old man's voice was low, filled with both nostalgia and sorrow. A circle of children surrounded him, their eyes bright as they stared at the gray-clad Little Puppet in his hands, which was taking step after step forward. Just as the song reached its most critical moment, a few urgent bird calls suddenly rang out from not far outside the shack:

"Cuckoo! Cuckoo! Cuckoo!"

The old man calmly untied the puppet's little gray jacket and balled it up, revealing a yellowish tunic and a black-and-yellow striped skirt underneath. He tugged at the puppet, his voice shifting to become rapid, high-pitched, and full of vigor:

"Jade Emperor! How dare you look down on Old Sun, trying to dismiss me with the title of Bi Ma Wen!"