"Mom, please, have some rest in the next room, I'll go to the police station later."

Said Bart Wang, he helped Claudia Li to the door of the master bedroom. She was almost seventy years old now, but had the physique of a woman half her age. It was clear that her sorrow was overwhelming, but she was not defeated.

“Your father has had a hard life, just like me. Fortunately, he didn’t suffer in the end, he was gone in his sleep.” Claudia said with a sigh, “Then I’ll leave you be. It’s tiresome to come back from Beijing so early in the morning. I’ll get you something to eat.”

“Don't bother, Mom. I'm not hungry now. I’ll make porridge when it’s done.”

“All right, I’ll have some rest in the living room, then we can go together.”

Bart turned back to the master bedroom and began to tidy up a tangled bed. Towards the end, he carefully folded the red sweater he had given his father as a present long ago and put it on the bedside, he would take it back to Beijing, as remembrance. Then he opened a drawer to take the household registration documentation and ID card to the police station, to...... handle the after life affairs.

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For so many years, father had been putting his brother’s green-cover notebook together with valuable things of this small family. The notebook reminded Bart of the scene of Echo Wang reading a poem: “Snap your fingers.” His father, who had been working so hard all his life, that little old man, always wearing a cheeky smile: “Blow the trumpet, tick, tick, tick.” He chortled, tears fell down.

Bart looked through the notebook and found a line of words scribbled by his father on the last page: “Are there really aliens in the world?” He was confused, somehow, but quickly pushed the question out of his mind, after all, this was not the right time for it. Then he was attracted by an old wooden box. He opened the box with a snap, inside was a strange amulet, followed by a note: “When in danger... press the mark."

All of a sudden, he felt struck by lightening, Bart recalled that day more than ten years ago, the deafening roar and dazzling white light.

But the memory was like misplaced puzzle, the boy couldn’t see it through.

He sighed, put down the wooden box, got up and opened the window.

It's snowing.

Bart looked up.

The falling snow was so beautiful. He had seen it before.

(End)