The sister turned around in a daze and found the uncle standing behind her. She asked warily, “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I just came to check,” the uncle replied. “How’s the kid doing?”
Strange—that fleeting scent had vanished.
The moment the uncle appeared, I distinctly caught an unprecedented smell, and two words flashed in my mind—**”killing intent.”**
If I hadn’t shouted, **”Sister, be careful!”**, I had a feeling something terrible would have happened.
Luckily, the scent faded, and my sister should be safe now.
At the bottom of the well, I found a wooden box. On its back were four characters—the first was **”woman”**… but the rest were unfamiliar, and without pinyin, I couldn’t read them.
“Little brother, did you find the key?” my sister called from above.
After a moment’s thought, I took the key from the box and tucked it into my clothes, then tugged the rope. **”I found it!”**
The group above discussed for a long time before preparing to pull me up—when suddenly, I felt my hair dampen. Looking up, I saw water seeping through tiny holes at the top.
The water rushed down fast, like a dozen faucets turned on at once. I was drenched in a downpour at the bottom of the well.
**Now I’m soaked. I’m going to get scolded again.**
Outside, chaos erupted instantly. With the roaring water and echoes below, I couldn’t make out what anyone was saying.
But I could still smell everyone’s scents—how bizarre.
From my sister came **”worry,” “unease,”** and **”helplessness.”** Then the leading uncle—his body continuously emitted **”killing intent.”**
As for the others, their scents wavered between **”hesitation”** and **”killing intent.”**
These smells flooded my nostrils, making me feel sick.
The water’s roar grew louder, the well’s rising tide climbing higher—soon, it reached my neck.
I looked up to see a figure peering down at me. The falling water blurred their face, but their stench was unmistakable—it had to be the leading uncle.
**Where’s my sister?**
“Kid!” the uncle shouted. **”You and the rope are soaked—you’re too heavy! We can’t pull you up! Untie the rope and fasten it to the key! We’ll pull the key up first, then figure out how to save you!”**
As he spoke, another strange, heavy scent wafted from him—but this time, it didn’t form words in my mind. I had no idea what it meant.
Years later, I finally understood.
That scent was called **”deceit.”**
**”No! Little brother!”** My sister’s voice came from far away. **”Don’t trust him! Remember what I told you?”**
Her scent carried **”worry,” “sincerity,”** and now, a hint of **”fear.”**
I remembered—she had warned me that if I wanted to live, I must never untie the rope.
But why was she so far away? Could she not reach me?
“U-Uncle,” I called nervously. **”If you can’t pull me up, it’s okay. I know a little swimming—when the water rises, I can float up with it.”**
Panic set in—when I panic, I cry, and crying gets me scolded.
**”Oh, screw you!”** the uncle bellowed. **”We’ve only got three minutes left on the countdown! Who has time to wait for you to swim up? Hand over the damn key now, or I’ll beat you to death when you get up here!”**
His scent shifted again—now pure **”killing intent.”**
I hadn’t done anything, yet I was still being yelled at.
**And what’s wrong with this prison? Why does everyone reek of such strong scents?**
Do I smell too?
I lifted my wrist and sniffed—an even more absurd word surfaced in my mind:
**”Spiritual Scent!”**
**”What the hell is going on?”**
“Kid, stop spacing out!” the uncle roared. **”Untie the rope! We’ll come back for you once we open the door!”**
That heavy scent returned.
I didn’t know whether to obey. I rarely defied adults—displeasing them made life unbearable.
But I had experience dealing with grown-ups.
Here’s my advice: **Don’t say what you want to say. Don’t do what you want to do.**
Instead, think about what **they** want you to say or do. That’s how you avoid scoldings.
If an adult takes you to visit friends, no matter how tempting the fruit on the table looks, never ask for it—or you’ll be called **”ill-mannered”** and told you’ll **”never amount to anything.”**
I was terrified of being called **”useless”**—my parents only said that when they were furious.
Oh, and if they serve your most hated dish (like leeks), you swallow it—no gagging. Otherwise, you’re **”picky,”** and they’ll threaten to **”starve you for three days”** until you eat anything. They’ll lecture you about their childhoods, when they **”had no food,”** and how you’re **”spoiled”** for refusing something as good as leeks.
And if a younger kid breaks your toy or takes it, you smile and say, **”It’s fine.”** Otherwise, you’re **”not acting like an older sibling.”** Even with peers, refusing to share makes you **”selfish.”** But if **you** dare take another child’s toy? That’s **”greedy,”** and you’ll get beaten.
If you’re upset, never cry out loud. Stay silent, or you’re a **”nuisance.”** They’ll remind you how hard they work to raise you, how exhausted they are, and how **”ungrateful”** you are.
Show your true feelings, and you’re **”disobedient,” “immature,”** or **”useless.”** Some adults might hit you.
These were lessons I’d learned the hard way—**hiding my thoughts meant fewer scoldings.** I hated being yelled at, especially in front of a crowd. It hurt too much.
Suddenly, I thought of Kong Rong.
**He did it right. I should learn from him.**
So this time, I had to agree. I didn’t want to be scolded—or worse, beaten.
“Uncle…”
Just as I was about to comply, an overwhelming new scent struck me.
How to describe it?
It was a **”thought.”** Yes—I smelled a **”thought.”**
Faintly, I caught my sister’s **”idea.”**
Hard to explain, because even though she didn’t speak, a notion appeared in my mind—I knew exactly whose it was.
Not words, just an **instinct**, an **intention** I had to put into words myself.
**”I… I can’t untie the rope,”** I blurted, echoing her unspoken warning. **”If I do and give you the key… you’ll abandon me.”**
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