Chapter 080: The Child Who Eats His Own Fingers

If Grandfather had wanted to come back, he would have done so long ago, even though it was said he’d left to avoid trouble.

But after all, he was staying with his own son—my parents served him the finest meals every day. The old man showed not the slightest intention of returning.

"With you here, nothing will happen to my Chao?" Song Baoguo slowly opened his eyes, fixing me with a gaze as if trying to discern the truth of my words. No wonder he’d seen battle—his eyes were like sharp blades piercing straight into my heart.

After a few seconds of meeting Song Baoguo’s stare, cold sweat began to bead on my back and my eyes involuntarily shifted away. His aura was simply overwhelming. To break the awkward silence, I spoke up.

"Mr. Song, to be honest, even if you hadn’t come looking for us at the shop today, I would have gone to find you myself."

There was no need to hide from him what I intended to say anyway. I told Song Baoguo everything about the Golden Cicada Society targeting Song Chao.

After hearing me out, Song Baoguo’s brows knitted tightly, but he said nothing. I quickly added, "If you don’t believe me, you can go ask at the police station. The officer who just brought me home—his name’s Wang Zihao."

Song Baoguo rubbed his temples, murmuring under his breath, "The Golden Cicada Society..."

"You... know them?" I asked.

He didn’t continue on that topic. Instead, with a change in tone, he said, "Since you’re so sure of yourself, come with me to see Chao first."

With those words, Song Baoguo closed his eyes again to rest, leaving me awkwardly gazing out the window.

When we finally arrived at his house and I saw Song Chao—the infant still swaddled in his crib—I understood why Song Baoguo had ignored the Golden Cicada Society just now. At least for now, what was happening to Song Chao seemed to have nothing to do with them.

A three-month-old baby should be at the most fretful stage of life. Unable to speak, they know no other way to express themselves but crying.

But Song Chao was different. He lay in his crib, silent and eerily calm. From the moment I entered the room, his eyes never left me, filled with wariness.

There was none of the innocence one sees in a child’s eyes; instead, his gaze appeared turbid and clouded. I was even more shocked to discover the fine lines at the corners of this tiny child’s eyes—crow’s feet.

Was this truly the appearance of a three-month-old?

If this were the work of malice or spirits, I would surely sense it. Yet the entire room was free of any such energy; in fact, it felt extraordinarily comfortable inside.

While I stood there puzzled, Song Chao, three months old, suddenly sat upright by himself. The corners of his mouth curled into a mocking grin, revealing a mouthful of sharp teeth.

Some children teethe early, but not so soon as three months, and certainly not a mouthful of such sharp teeth.

Before I could ask anything, Song Chao, right in front of both me and Song Baoguo, brought his tiny fingers to his mouth and began chewing.

In moments, blood was running down his chin, staining his body.

"Heh heh heh..."

He released his finger, chuckled hoarsely, and spat a piece of fresh flesh from his mouth.

The nearby nanny immediately stepped forward with practiced calm to tend to the wound on Song Chao’s finger. Song Chao did not resist, allowing her to fuss over him, though his eyes never once left me.

At that moment, Song Baoguo patted my shoulder. I turned to look at him; he gestured for me to follow him out.

As soon as I respectfully took a seat in the living room, the butler quickly brought me an exquisite cup of Dragon Well tea, its fragrance surpassing even my grandfather’s treasured collection—making me think perhaps Grandfather’s was a counterfeit.

With a wave of his hand, Song Baoguo dismissed the bodyguards and the butler from the room.

He said to me, "You’ve seen the situation for yourself. For the past half month, Chao has been off. Every day, right in front of me and his mother, he bites off his own flesh."

Pressing his temples, Song Baoguo continued, "His mother was so traumatized by it that she’s had to be hospitalized."

He lowered his hand and looked at me seriously. "And since half a month ago, whenever I look at him, I get a strange feeling, especially when I meet his eyes. It’s as if I’ve seen them somewhere before, but I can’t recall where."

Were it any ordinary family, few could endure such a thing.

Song Baoguo’s composure, his unhurried handling of the situation, was no doubt due to his past experiences. But no one knew how anxious he must be inside, as a father—this was his flesh and blood.

Otherwise, why would he have thought of me and my grandfather, whom he’d driven away three months ago?

He’d already consulted countless renowned doctors and experts, but they all reached the same conclusion: Song Chao was not ill—on the contrary, he was exceptionally healthy.

Even when Song Chao bit off chunks of his own flesh, they would heal completely by the next day.

How could such things happen to a healthy, untroubled child?

What should have been a time of joy at a new addition to the family had turned into a nightmare.

One day, Song Baoguo met his former superior and, unable to hide his distress, poured out his troubles. His old commander recommended a place: the Jianghuai Full-Service Funeral Parlor.

He assured Song Baoguo that only the proprietor there could resolve his son’s predicament.

At the mention of that name, Song Baoguo immediately recalled me and my grandfather, the ones he’d expelled from the hotel.

"My former commander said he has a special relationship with your grandfather. Just mention his name, and your grandfather will surely help me."

Perhaps seeing my silence as a sign I couldn’t handle this, Song Baoguo said, "Call your grandfather. Tell him I am a former subordinate of Gu Dongfeng, and my old commander asks him to help me..."

You are reading “The Years I Spent in the Funeral Business” by Shuonan, the latest update. For the fastest access to new chapters, be sure to bookmark this novel.

Chapter 80: The Child Who Eats His Own Fingers.