If Zhang was in his old body right now, he'd be aroused, but the sensation of suckling on his mothers teets brings him only a vague sense of bliss. His infant state was unlike any experience he had in his previous life. He felt like a spectator, an observer watching his own life progress. He wondered that if he had gained consciousness when he was but a little infant in China, if he would've felt the same way he did now. Over the few months he had mapped out most of the house, and came to the independent conclusion that the room he was born in was the best in the house. He had his own room, which was really just four walls and a crib.
"I wonder if I'll fuck this life up like I did my last one…"
His mind felt weird thinking that word… the "F" word. It was almost like his infant mind recognized that it was a bad word and fought against it, like there were two different Zhangs fighting control for one mind. The whole no-control-over-your-own-body thing wasn't that bad usually, until it came to relieving himself of his natural urges. He hadn't had control over a single bowel movement in the five months he's been a child, and he was disgusted by himself. Some thought way up in his adult brain thought that this was hell. That he was being punished for having the nerve to go against god's will — to end his own life, that he'd be forced to repeat life again and again, and that they'd be worse and worse the more layers he traversed.
The more embarrassing part was when his siblings took care of him. His mother seemed to be in her mid-thirties or so, but his siblings were definitely not. His brother seemed to be about twelve or thirteen, and his sister about ten. When they changed his swaddling bands, fed him, or burped him, he felt like he wanted to end it all over again. The embarrassment was unlike anything he had ever felt before. It was truly humiliating.
He had picked up a few words of the language that they spoke, but not enough to take meaningful information from any conversation he could've listened in on. As he was breastfed, he thought about his new family. His mother, brother, sister, and uncle. He hadn't seen his father much in the five months, despite his carriage being placed in a place where he would be able to see him coming and going. He had one major memory of his father. He remembered his father sitting down in the same chair, in the same exact position, for hours. He didn't know if the memory was multiple different ones combined, as everything blurred into a haze inside of his infant mind. The strange detail about the house he noticed — everything, from the backs of chairs to the mugs, were emblazoned with a green and black mosquito. A part of Zhang's brain was disturbed the the sight.