When I was a child, there were no water heaters or showers in our hometown village. Every household used a bathing pot. The pot was embedded in a brick platform, resembling a large cooking pot, big enough for a grownup to sit in comfortably. Underneath the pot, firewood burned, while one person bathed inside, and another sat outside the bathing area, behind a wall, helping to add firewood to the furnace.

Once one person finished bathing, another would take their turn, and the whole family would rotate in this way. One of the happiest memories of my childhood was soaking in the warm water, with my mother using a towel to wash me and grandma sitting outside, adding firewood.

When I felt cold, mama would shout outside, "Mom, add some firewood!" and magically, the water would heat up.

Whenever those moments come to mind, I think of the white, milk-like crucian carp soup simmering in the rice pot, with a crucian carp swimming cozily between tofu and pieces of spring onions. It must have been the happiest crucian carp in the world! While other crucian carps roamed in the icy river water, only it got to take a hot bath.

The day I bathed my sister was a warm and sunny spring day. Birds were singing in the branches, and flowers danced below the windowsill. My two-year-old sister sat on the bed, reaching her tiny hand into her mouth, absent-mindedly nibbling on the dirt in her fingernail crevices.

She really needed a bath, I thought.

My sister was actually my uncle and aunt's child. She didn't have her own name — everyone called her "Little Girlie," and I called her "Sis." Already two years old, the only word she was able to say was "mama". This worried the family a lot, fearing she was mentally handicapped.

Only I knew she wasn't an idiot.

Whenever I cried, overwhelmed by scolding from my mother for being naughty, Sis would always stand beside me, grabbing the hem of my clothes with her small hand, looking up at me sympathetically with her bright, watery eyes.

Sis had a pair of eyes that could speak.

Even though she said nothing, I knew she was telling me, "Sister, don't be sad anymore; I'm here with you."

I tried to be a grown-up, clumsily carrying the water bucket, filling the bathtub over and over again. Then, I brought a pile of firewood, lit it up, rubbing my hands in excitement as I waited for the water to warm up.

Once the water steamed, I carefully undressed my little sister and gently placed her in the pot. I thoughtfully placed a small wooden board under her so she wouldn't get burnt.

Sitting on a small stool outside against the wall, I rolled up my sleeves, cleared my throat dramatically, and said, "Sis, here we go!"

The firewood burned brightly, crackling and popping, sending sparks dancing along with the black smoke billowing out of the chimney, making me cough.

I imagined Sis all clean and bright after the bath: her smooth cheeks, fragrant little hands, immaculate fingernails—how adorable would she look! I planned to braid her hair into cute little pigtails, tying them with my favourite red ribbons into two bows.

When Uncle and Aunt returned from the fields and saw their kid so clean, they would definitely ask, "Wow, who bathed our little girl?"

I would proudly raise my hand and say, "Me, me, me!"

Thinking about it made me grin from ear to ear.

Yet my pleasant imaginations were interrupted by a sudden wrenching pain in my stomach. I needed to use the outhouse, but I worried the fire might go out, and Sis would catch a cold.

Just then, the courtyard gate creaked open.

It was my mama returning from planting in the fields.

Mama wore a big straw hat, her pants rolled up to her knees, her cheeks flushed from the passionate afternoon sun.

"Little Mei, what are you doing?" She asked me with a smile, wiping the sparkling sweat from her face with the towel draped over her shoulder.

"I'm giving a bath!" I proudly exclaimed, pointing to the firewood in the bathing room.

"Mama, can you watch the fire for a moment? I gotta go poop!" I instructed, clutching my stomach as I ran towards the outhouse in the backyard.

Pooping was especially uncomfortable this time.

I squatted for a long time, emptying out all the leftovers from lunch.

After finishing, I returned to the front yard with light steps.

No one was in the yard.

The fire in the bathing room had unexpectedly gone out, the firewood damp and unable to catch fire, as if someone had extinguished it with a bucket of water. "Sis, are you feeling cold?" I shouted.

Sis didn't respond.

I hurriedly ran around the wall to check.

But all I found was an empty pot in front of me.

My sister wasn't in the bathtub.

"Sis, where are you?" I searched everywhere, but Sis seemed to have vanished into thin air.

I panicked, running around aimlessly like a headless fly.

"Sis, where are you hiding? Come out!"

But the only response I got was the quiet sunshine filling the yard.

I failed to find Sis anywhere.

The image of my sister in my memory forever remained in that distant spring afternoon.

For the rest of my life, in every nightmare in the depths of the night, my sis would always sit on the bed, smiling foolishly, nibbling on the dirt in her fingernails.