Two nights later, Wei Zhi dreamed of Wang Lin for the first time.
She was wearing the expensive suit Ji Qikun had given her, sitting in the black Bentley Bentayga. For some reason, she had returned to that familiar narrow alley under the cover of night. Following the moss-covered flagstone path deep into the winding alley, she reached her home at the very end, its lights burning bright.
Wang Lin was still sitting behind the counter, looking at her phone while waiting for customers. Hearing footsteps approach, she immediately came out to greet her.
"Xiao Zhi, are you hungry? Shall Mom make you a bowl of noodles?"
A second ago, Wei Zhi had remembered the fact that her mother was dead, but Wang Lin’s lifelike presence scattered the echoes of reality. *So, everything before was just a dream,* she thought.
The dream bled into her perception of reality. Though the bone-deep pain of losing a loved one remained in the shadows of her life, she didn't reject Wang Lin’s kindness as she usually did. Instead, she silently accepted her mother's fussing.
Seeing this, Wang Lin hurried into the kitchen to get busy. Before long, a steaming bowl of plain noodles in clear broth was placed before Wei Zhi.
Wei Zhi sat on a wooden chair so worn that its grain could no longer be felt, slowly lifting a bundle of noodles with her chopsticks. Wang Lin stopped minding the shop and sat across from her, watching her eat with a face full of smiles.
"How is it? Is there enough salt?" Wang Lin asked expectantly.
"It’s fine," Wei Zhi nodded.
In front of those closest to her, she found herself unable to offer straightforward praise. Why was that? She had clearly made up her mind to say all the things she regretted leaving unsaid...
When was that? And why had she made such a resolution?
Wei Zhi’s mind suddenly grew hazy. She looked up at her mother; her face was still so warm and familiar.
"Xiao Zhi, if you feel too tired, why don't you try giving up?" her mother spoke, her voice gentle yet filled with worry. "Some things are just beyond our control. Even if you give it your all, nothing will change."
Wei Zhi kept her head down and ate her noodles, saying nothing.
"No one will blame you, Xiao Zhi," Wang Lin said softly. "We all know you tried your best."
Wei Zhi set down her chopsticks and finally looked Wang Lin straight in the eyes.
"Until the very last second of life, it doesn't count as trying your best," she said, enunciating every word. "If there is a chance to change the outcome and I don't seize it, I will never forgive myself."
She couldn't quite remember if anything else was said after that.
When Wei Zhi woke up, the sun was already shining through the gaps in the curtains into the dim bedroom. The other side of the large bed was empty. The room was shrouded in a half-light, like the boundary between day and night. The mirrored decorations on the nightstand and walls reflected a faint white glow, casting back Wei Zhi’s silhouette on the bed.
Wang Lin’s passing had occurred only a little over a month ago, but aside from the initial grief, it felt increasingly surreal.
Was Wang Lin really dead?
Or had she simply left them for a place Wei Zhi couldn't touch or contact?
It was like when Wei Shan used to corner her in an inescapable spot and beat her mercilessly with the belt from his waist; her soul seemed to detach from her body, calmly looking down at this absurd, weightless reality. Perhaps Wang Lin wasn't dead, but had simply—like her—undergone an out-of-body experience to go somewhere without pain.
The only strange thing was that Wei Shan was no longer chasing her with a belt, yet she continued to experience this detachment over and over again when she didn't need it.
The line between reality and illusion was no longer clear. She even suspected that perhaps everything was fake.
Using the excuse of needing a prescription for sleeping pills, Wei Zhi obtained Ji Qikun’s permission to go out and returned to the Mental Health Center.
"...I’ve had these episodes of detachment before," she said. "But lately, they’ve been happening more and more frequently."
Though she had taken a random appointment, the young female doctor was very responsible, reviewing all her previous medical records.
"Dissociation of consciousness may start as an adaptive behavior, but it is uncontrollable. Dissociation is also a symptom of post-traumatic stress; it can haunt a patient for a long time. This is why, from the beginning, we do not recommend patients use dissociation as a means to escape pain. Because when you don't need to dissociate, it is very likely to take control of your body again, becoming an uncontrollable maladaptive behavior."
"...Post-traumatic stress?" she murmured to herself. It was the first time she had heard the term. "Isn't that just a symptom of depression?"
"Depression can be accompanied by this symptom, but your depression is primarily caused by significant trauma."
"What significant trauma?" Wei Zhi let out a short, hollow laugh, deliberately using a mocking tone. "Does 'education by the rod' count as significant trauma?"
She didn't want to laugh, but she forced herself to, otherwise she didn't know what expression to use to suppress the sudden surge of pain within her.
The young doctor said steadily, "Quantifying trauma is a meaningless comparison. Only the victim is qualified to judge the severity of the harm, and your body has given you the answer."
"..."
"Ten years ago, the concept of PTSD wasn't fully popularized, and many post-traumatic symptoms were simply categorized as depression. But the mechanisms of the two conditions are actually different. First is the cause: depression is caused by multiple factors and doesn't necessarily require a specific traumatic event, whereas PTSD must involve experiencing a traumatic event."
"In terms of symptoms, the core symptoms of depression are mainly persistent low mood, loss of interest, and mental fatigue. The core symptoms of PTSD include re-experiencing the trauma, avoiding things related to the trauma, emotional numbness, and increased hypervigilance."
"Characteristics of PTSD include avoidant behavior and recurring memories of the traumatic event—often intrusive memories that are impossible to shake off—whereas depression usually does not involve this."
"Although PTSD is often accompanied by depressive symptoms, the root cause is different. If the cause isn't identified, the treatment cannot be properly targeted."
"So, were the medications I took before wrong?" Wei Zhi asked.
"You have severe depressive moods, and taking antidepressants can effectively combat those negative emotions. However, if you want better results, you also need to seek help from a psychological counselor who specializes in post-traumatic stress disorder."
Holding her prescription for sleeping pills, Wei Zhi walked out of the Mental Health Center.
Strangely, the new diagnosis didn't stir even a ripple in her heart. She looked up at the piercing autumn sun; that absurd feeling of being derailed from reality grew even sharper.
She needed to do something to return to reality. No matter how cruel reality was, she had to return to it.
Back at Ji Qikun’s house, she placed the sleeping pills in the nightstand drawer. Then, she walked through the living room lined with mirrors and stood before the door of the study, which was always kept tightly shut.
She brushed her finger over the electronic lock, staring at the keypad. She tried entering Ji Qikun’s birthday and the date the gallery was established.
Incorrect password.
With a heavy sense of doubt and little hope, she entered their anniversary.
Incorrect password.
She actually felt a sense of relief.
There weren't many chances left. She stared at the black lock and remembered the painting Ji Qikun had hung opposite the computer in the study.
She slowly entered 20080814—the date of Mei Man’s death.
The lock flashed red again, indicating an error.
Wei Zhi stared at the panel. Before giving up, she tried one last time: 080814.
A green light flickered, and the study door opened.
Wei Zhi stood up. The countless mirrors in the living room reflected her silhouette, like Ji Qikun’s invisible eyes left at home, watching her intently as she stepped into the study.
With the unresponsive RF detector in her pocket, she couldn't help but look at the painting first. She walked up slowly and lightly touched the uneven brushstrokes with her finger, as if she were holding the artist's brush herself. Having worked as an accountant in a gallery for two years, she knew perfectly well that the oils from skin could corrode the pigments of an oil painting, but she still couldn't resist.
Through the painting, she seemed to feel the artist's warmth. For no reason at all, she felt like crying.
Composing herself, Wei Zhi turned away from the oil painting and re-examined the unfamiliar study.
Mirrors were everywhere.
The computer in the center drew her in. She walked over and turned on the power; the tower immediately lit up. Soon, the screen displayed the password interface.
Above the input box was a small password hint.
"Favorite Artist."
Ji Qikun’s favorite artist—several names of independent artists immediately sprang to Wei Zhi’s mind. She tried entering them one by one, but each time the box flashed red.
She had worked at the gallery for two years and knew Ji Qikun’s tastes inside out.
It was impossible for her not to know his favorite artist, but one error after another eroded her confidence.
She thought for a long time, finally entering "MeiMan" and then "M."
All were incorrect without exception.
She decided to give up for the moment, turning off the computer and heading to the corner where the safe was kept.
Ji Qikun would never have guessed that by making her quit her job to stay at home, he had actually given her plenty of time for trial and error.
Unlike the computer, the safe had a higher level of security; many safes come with built-in alarms. Wei Zhi had researched beforehand: the model Ji Qikun used would trigger an alarm after five incorrect attempts.
She had five chances.
Half an hour later, she opened the safe using Ji Qikun’s birth date in reverse. Pulling the door open, she found that it didn't contain valuables in the traditional sense, but rather things that would be quite ordinary elsewhere—
A jar of wishing stars, a ring, a necklace, paintbrushes, a sketchbook, letters...
The gifts Wei Zhi had given Ji Qikun were among them.
The origin of the other items was self-evident.
Wei Zhi took out the stack of letters. Most were written by someone who signed off as "Chen Jingyan." She read every single one carefully. Most were letters from a young girl in love, pouring out her heart to her beloved and describing her daily life, though some contained complaints about Ji Qikun’s coldness and distance due to the long-distance nature of their relationship.
From the letters, Wei Zhi learned that Chen Jingyan was likely Ji Qikun’s last girlfriend during his high school years.
Wei Zhi set the letters down and picked up the sketchbook with Ji Qikun’s name written on the cover.
At first, she thought it was a sketchbook Ji Qikun had used, but upon opening it, she saw Ji Qikun’s face.
A younger, more vibrant face.
The artist had carved this face into their very marrow; with one look, Wei Zhi saw the Ji Qikun of his university days.
Back then, he was still handsome and dashing, his sharp jawline clearly defined, his temples and cheeks perfectly smooth. A pair of bright, clear eyes held a sense of wit and mischief, looking out at the Wei Zhi outside the drawing with a half-smile.
Wei Zhi continued to flip through.
The entire sketchbook was filled with drawings of Ji Qikun.
However, the Ji Qikun in the sketches changed from relaxed and smiling at the beginning, to cold and displeased, and finally to a face full of fury. The further she flipped, the harder it was to find a single smiling face.
Wei Zhi used her phone to photograph everything as much as possible, including the sketchbook and the letters.
She photographed for nearly an hour, not even noticing that the back of her neck had gone completely stiff until a notification popped up saying her phone storage was full. Only then did she return everything to the safe and restore it to its original state.
Suddenly, her phone vibrated on the floor.
It was an unknown caller. Wei Zhi answered but didn't speak first. A man’s low breathing traveled through the phone into her ear, making her ear canal itch slightly for some reason. She shifted her posture and continued to wait for the other party to speak.
"...Have you made up your mind?"
Finally, Tan Mengyan’s voice came through.
Wei Zhi turned the combination dial on the safe back to its starting position and stood up with her phone.
"I can cooperate with you," she said.
Wei Zhi stood by the window, gazing out at the view Ji Qikun saw every day. She suddenly wondered if there was any fundamental difference between her and Ji Qikun if they stood in the same position.
Perhaps there was, perhaps not.
"On the condition that the person behind you steps forward to show me their sincerity."
"You can just talk to me."
"If I talk to you, can you make the decisions?"
In the small attic on the second floor of the water station, Tan Mengyan held his phone and looked at Zheng Tianxin across the table. The latter nodded to him, so he said:
"Of course I can make the decisions. What conditions do you want to set?"
"I will only talk to the person behind you," Wei Zhi said over the phone. Tan Mengyan looked at Zheng Tianxin again.
Before Zheng Tianxin could speak, Wei Zhi’s voice came through the speakerphone once more.
"Why are you afraid to come out and meet me?"
Wei Zhi’s tone suddenly changed. Her low, soft voice drifted over the line like swaying seaweed.
"Didn't we agree to play together?" She let the words slip gently from between her teeth, one by one. "Sister Tianxin."
Tan Mengyan’s eyes widened in shock. He instinctively looked at Zheng Tianxin, who also wore an expression of surprise and couldn't help but stand up from her stool.
The air seemed to freeze, leaving only the sound of breathing on both ends of the line.
A moment later, Zheng Tianxin let out a hearty laugh.
Time began to flow again.
"It’s been a long time, Xiao Zhi," Zheng Tianxin said with a smile.
***
| Chinese | English | Notes/Explanation |
| :--- | :--- | :--- |
| 添越 | Bentayga | A luxury SUV model by Bentley. |
| 解离 | Dissociation | A mental process of disconnecting from one's thoughts, feelings, memories, or sense of identity. |
| 创伤后遗症 | Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) | A mental health condition triggered by experiencing or witnessing a terrifying event. |
| 陈靖雁 | Chen Jingyan | A new character mentioned as Ji Qikun's former girlfriend. |
| 田心姐 | Sister Tianxin | Wei Zhi's familiar way of addressing Zheng Tianxin, revealing their past connection. |
