The Doljabi

The Doljabi Old Zhang's youngest son turned one year old, and the family held a grand Doljabi ceremony. Abacuses, brushes, seals, ink pads, and stacks of cash were laid out on the table. Everyone gathered in a circle, filled with laughter and joy, waiting for the baby to crawl over and choose an item. The baby giggled and crawled slowly, eventually stopping in the middle of the table. He didn't grab the money or the brush. Instead, he lifted his tiny, delicate fingers, gently pushed aside the abacus on top, and pulled out a piece of paper that was already yellowed and neatly folded from underneath. Everyone leaned in curiously to see. Old Zhang unfolded the paper. Written in black ink were a few lines of text, the handwriting shaky and uneven, just like a child learning to write: "Dad, I've come back in a different identity this time." "When you buried me under the backyard tree last time, I told you we would meet again." Old Zhang's smile instantly froze on his face. Cold sweat broke out and streamed down. Twenty years ago, he did indeed have an elder son who died young. He had claimed it was from illness, but in reality... At this moment, the baby in his arms slowly raised its head. With a cold gaze that absolutely did not belong to a one-year-old, he stared intently at Old Zhang, opened his mouth, which hadn't even grown all its teeth yet, and in a baby's voice, uttered a single sentence: "Dad, that tree in the backyard has grown really tall."