Zhao Wensheng hastily hung up the phone and started to walk out, then suddenly stopped, ran back, and picked up the child sitting on the stool. He hurried outside with the child. As he left, he remembered the child wasn't dressed, so he grabbed a coat to throw over the little one.
Little Dongzi watched his series of actions, his little heart pounding furiously, his round eyes open wide and fearful to ask any questions.
Father and son burst out the door into the snow, which was falling heavily. A layer of snow had already accumulated on the ground, making a crunching sound underfoot and difficult to walk on. The little one wrapped his arms around his father's neck, and when he saw they were heading to his uncle and aunt's house next door, he pursed his lips and asked, "Is Aunt about to give birth?"
"Yes——" Zhao Wensheng replied weakly, not knowing how else to describe his prediction of the birth, which was more accurate than a doctor's.
