My ‘Healing’ Game
Chapter 362: Healing-type Player

Chapter 362: Chapter 362: Healing-type Player

Seeing the little boy finally willing to trust him, Han Fei breathed a sigh of relief, and now he had time to look around.

The walls of Room 4064 were painted with a white paint, a very special kind of white that felt quite cold instead of warm under the light.

The room was cluttered with furniture and also had an unusually large number of mirrors; just in the living room, Han Fei saw four mirrors.

They were respectively hung near the living room door, behind the TV, behind the sofa, and next to the dining table.

"Did my dad ask you to come over?" the boy asked as he saw Han Fei staring at his home, puffing his courage like a little host of the room.

As he spoke, there was a glimmer of hope in his eyes.

"No, I’m here looking for someone. Did anyone who looks a lot like me enter this room just now?" Han Fei crouched in front of the child, not liking to pressure others and lowering his stance when talking to make the other person more comfortable.

Disappointed by Han Fei’s answer, the little boy shook his head: "I’ve been staying in the living room, but I haven’t seen anyone else come in."

"No?" Han Fei looked toward the other rooms of the house and found that all the doors were tightly shut: "May I check the other rooms?"

"Mom is sleeping; you’ll wake her up." The boy stretched out his tiny arms in front of Han Fei, protectively. He looked adorable and had a high emotional quotient.

"Your mother is in the room too?" Han Fei was aware this was a room whose number contained two fours, and the most terrifying ghost in it probably hadn’t appeared yet—it could very well be the boy’s mother.

"Mom said today is Soul-returning Night and Dad will come back after midnight. She told me to go to sleep obediently because he’ll visit me while I’m asleep," the boy said naively, truly believing what his mother had told him.

"Then why didn’t you do what your mom said? Instead of sleeping, you sneaked into the living room?" Han Fei found the child interesting. Ever since he obtained the Child King talent, he realized he, too, enjoyed interacting with children. It definitely wasn’t because they were easy to deceive, but rather he found their innocence and cuteness refreshing, allowing him some relaxation in the Deep World.

"I..." the boy found himself at a loss for words: "I don’t want to sleep because once I do, I can’t talk anymore, and I have so many questions to ask my dad."

"Questions? What questions?"

"He used to be so busy, but he still woke me up every morning. Now he only comes back once a year, and I don’t want him to be so busy," the boy said in his damp pants, expressing his simplest desire.

"Only comes back once a year? Is that also what your mom told you?"

"Yeah."

"Did she tell you what Soul-returning Night is?" During the conversation, Han Fei pushed open the door of one of the bedrooms, which should be the bedroom once occupied by the boy’s parents.

The double bed was covered with a brand new sheet, not a wrinkle in sight.

One could tell that someone cleaned this room every day, but no one seemed to sleep in it any longer.

Squeak...

As Han Fei pushed open the bedroom door, it sounded as if something crawled inside the wardrobe by the bed, like a rat or perhaps some kind of insect.

Han Fei knew that there was a mystery in the wardrobe of the Death Building, and he didn’t wait for the little boy to come over before opening it directly.

As he pulled open the black doors, on the top shelf of the wardrobe, out of reach of the small boy, sat a young man’s black and white portrait.

Next to the portrait was a bowl of white rice with half a piece of Yellow Paper buried in it. The name written on it was "Laisheng," along with the various steps of soul-summoning.

"Laisheng?" The name on the Yellow Paper caught Han Fei’s attention.

"This is a picture of my dad. Mom put it in the wardrobe. She said looking at the picture would make her sad, but after putting it away, she would always sneak a peek at it." The little boy didn’t quite understand his mother; he was too young: "The uncles and aunties who visited said that my dad had died. I asked them what death meant at that time, and they told me that death is like going to work in a very far-off place, so far that you can only come back once a year. I really don’t understand, why would they choose to do such a job?"

The little boy looked at the picture of his dad in the wardrobe. He was very short and couldn’t reach the top. He hoped Han Fei could help him take down the picture.

After successfully retrieving his father’s photo, the little boy stared at the portrait’s black and white shades. Suddenly, he lifted his head with clear eyes and asked Han Fei, "You said adults don’t lie to children, but I always feel like they are lying to me. Do you know what death is?"

"Death?" Han Fei hadn’t expected such a small child to suddenly ask such a question. He didn’t respond casually but thought seriously for a long time, "I’ve heard people say that death is like water disappearing into water."

"What does that mean?"

"It’s like going back home, not this home, I mean, but a home for all of us. We come from there, and in the end, we return there," Han Fei didn’t know why he was saying these things to a child. Maybe it was because he had never treated the residents of the Deep World as NPCs, but as people just like himself.

"Returning home is what death is? Then why are so many people afraid of death? Why would mom cry?" The boy seemed to have finally found someone to talk to, and he was eager to get an answer.

"Because in the time we leave home, we choose a path, a path with no turning back. At the end of this path is home, the only way to return home, but on the way back, we see countless sceneries and lights, we warm others, and others warm us. We are like points of light, illuminating the night sky on our way home."

"Points of light?" The boy frowned thoughtfully, and after pondering for a while, he suddenly pointed at the White Wax used for commemoration, "I understand, we are like candles. We start as wax, then we light up, and finally, we become wax again, only our bodies no longer maintain their previous form, from being upright to melting into drops of wax."

Han Fei was surprised at the child’s analogy and his capacity for understanding. The boy was young, but very smart, much like himself when he was a child.

"Comparing it to candles might not be quite right," Han Fei also thought about it seriously for the first time, "We are led out of our homes by our parents. We are not candles; we are us."

"Then how could a person possibly shine?"

"People don’t shine, but each of us has a torch inherited from our ancestors, a torch that can light up the night, called life. We fuel it with our experiences and memories, and life’s flame ascends. We can then hold it high as we walk through the night," Han Fei, looking at the thoughtful boy, smiled and patted his head, "When you are about to go home, pass your torch to another person, so the night remains lit by us."

The boy looked up, still confused in his eyes, "But my dad only gave me toy cars, he never gave me a torch."

"Perhaps your dad has already entrusted the torch to your mom to keep safe for you. When you get a little older, she’ll give it to you so your life will shine with light and warmth." Han Fei pulled back his hand, not sure if it was an illusion or what, but he felt a warmth emanating from the boy. Even more unbelievable was the system alert he suddenly heard in his Brain Sea.

"Player number 0000, please note! Room owner of 4064 has increased your friendliness by ten! Your Charm has been fully affirmed by them!"

Turning his head, Han Fei noticed that the door of the bedroom the little boy had always prevented him from entering was now ajar by a half-palm width, and two pale faces were silently staring at him.

His body stiffened instantly, and Han Fei unconsciously stepped aside, his hand brushing against a bookshelf, causing a picture album with Laisheng’s name to fall to the ground.

As the album opened, it contained crayon drawings of a father and a mother, the only one missing was himself.