I Miss You So Much.
The cry of an infant came from the bedroom next door.
Qi Song’s movements paused. She placed the laptop on the bookshelf and then quickly hurried back to the bedroom.
She reached out, carefully lifting the small child from the crib into her arms. Gently patting the baby’s back, she coaxed in a hoarse voice, “It’s okay, Mommy’s here.”
Taotao lay against her chest, her soft whimpers gradually subsiding after a few moments.
Taotao was very clingy; every time she woke up and didn’t see her, she would cry. She was also very clingy to Taotao; otherwise, she wouldn’t have been able to survive at all.
Many years ago, the summer she had just come of age, Yu Luo lay in a hospital bed, comatose for a long time.
At that time, she had decided—if Yu Luo were to leave one day, she would immediately follow, never wanting to live in a world without Yu Luo.
That, too, would have been a kind of complete happiness.
However, fate makes a fool of people1, and now she no longer possessed such freedom.
Their daughter was only a few months old.
Yu Luo had once looked forward to Taotao’s entire life with such longing in her eyes—anticipated while still in the womb, always to be accepted and encouraged after birth, to be confident and brave in a world of love, and to forever have an abundance of self-assurance.
And if Qi Song were to let Taotao become an orphan who had lost both parents now, what face would she have to see Yu Luo?
Raising and caring for her daughter had become the sole conviction for her survival.
Qi Song carried Taotao past the study. There, she often practiced calligraphy, merging Yu Luo’s handwriting into her own. If every part of her was fused with Yu Luo’s shadow, could it be considered that Yu Luo was still alive, sharing the same lifespan as her?
She finally arrived at the audio-visual room and sat on the carpet where she and Yu Luo used to watch movies together.
With a light press of the remote, Yu Luo’s final film was projected onto the giant white screen in front of her.
This movie was released three months after her death and earned Yu Luo another Gold Award.
Qi Song accepted the award at the film festival on her behalf.
The spotlight shone down on her, her shadow falling at her feet, looking so lonely.
When she gave the acceptance speech while ten thousand eyes gazed upon her2, she remained silent for a long time, finally saying only one sentence, her voice choked and slow:
“I hope everyone will not forget Yu Luo.”
She left after a deep bow.
That was also the last time Qi Song appeared before the public. From then on, she disappeared in sound and hid tracks3 in the entertainment circle.
…
At this moment, Yu Luo’s lively and vivid features in the movie were like an April spring breeze, clear, moist, and gentle.
Qi Song sat on the carpet, biting her lower lip hard. Her vision was constantly blurred by tears. She repeatedly wiped them away with force, the skin at the corners of her eyes rubbed red, yet she continued to watch without blinking.
At times like these, the flesh and blood of her heart always felt a raw pain, as if being ground down inch by inch with a dull knife, with fresh blood gushing out from within.
And yet, she felt a sliver of happiness just by being able to see Yu Luo’s face.
For this illusory, fragile, and fleeting happiness, she was willing to bleed dry.
“Mo… mmy?”
The infant in her arms pointed a small finger at Yu Luo’s face on the screen and suddenly called out indistinctly.
Qi Song froze, her trembling ceasing.
She wiped her tears haphazardly, suppressed her heavy breathing, and looked down at Taotao. “What… what did you say?”
Taotao blinked her eyes but didn’t speak again for a moment.
When the movie once again cut to a scene with Yu Luo, her finger pointed at Yu Luo, and this time her soft, glutinous voice became a little firmer. “…Mommy.”
In that instant, Qi Song’s tears streamed down again, soaking the corners of her tightly pressed lips.
She hugged Taotao tightly, her body trembling uncontrollably from suppressed sobs. After a long while, she finally nodded and squeezed out a few words. “…Good girl.”
She rarely taught Taotao to call her “Mama,” but she often held up photos of Yu Luo and told Taotao that was “Mommy.”
Thus, the first words Taotao ever spoke in her life were “Mommy.”
Today was Qi Song’s happiest day in nearly a year. Or perhaps, the only happy day.
She decided that when she died and went to find Yu Luo, she must tell Yu Luo about this properly and proudly.
Yu Luo would surely be very happy too.
“Yes, she is your Mommy.” She finally stroked Taotao’s head slowly.
“And you are Mommy’s dearest baby.”
After a pause, she weakly buried her face in Taotao’s neck and choked out in a low voice:
“…So am I.”
Qi Song could feel that something was wrong with her psychological state.
Her perspective on the world had undergone an earth-shattering change.
Walking on the street, seeing every ordinary person living their life, she would always feel a soul-crushing jealousy:
On what grounds could all these people live so perfectly well, while someone as wonderful as Yu Luo had to die young in her prime4, becoming a regretful topic of conversation for everyone after tea and after rice5, another cold case in the news about how the “Fragrance-Inducing Factor” can affect pregnancy, a breakthrough for research into the “Fragrance-Inducing Factor.”
How ironic.
How wearying and hateful.
Sometimes, she would suddenly wake up and realize6 from this world-weary mood, feeling a strong sense of lingering fear.
Yu Luo liked her bright smile, her integrity and kindness. If she knew how dark she had become now, would she not want her anymore?
Qi Song would hurriedly and deceptively hide those thoughts, deceiving herself and deceiving others7, longing to still be the pure and kind little puppy that Yu Luo used to love.
Then she would worry that Yu Luo had actually already forgotten her, that she had a brand new life of her own in another world.
What if she was walking too slowly and could never catch up to Yu Luo again?
Qi Song was sometimes so anxious that, holding the sleeping pills prescribed by the doctor, she couldn’t help but pour out many, many more.
Heart racing, blood rushing to her head—
Go now, go find Jiejie right now, maybe I can still make it.
However, a glance at her little daughter sleeping peacefully in the crib nearby would make her freeze, and then her limbs would go weak as she put the pills back, one by one.
She would collapse onto the cold, hard floor, utterly dejected, like a dog that has lost its home8, its fur completely devoid of luster, its ears drooping. She would sob pitifully, her face covered in tears and snot, like a child.
Sunlight fell into the room, making the graying hair at her temples glare.
Jiejie, can you wait for me a little longer, for my sake, seeing how pitiful I am?
…
Today was the first anniversary of Yu Luo’s death.
Qi Song woke up early, made some of Yu Luo’s favorite dishes and put them in a thermal container, then drove with Taotao to the cemetery.
She arrived before the familiar grave with a light carriage, familiar road9.
On the granite tombstone was a photograph of Yu Luo, one that Qi Song had taken herself.
She still clearly remembered when she took that picture of Yu Luo—the frequency of her eyelashes’ gentle flutter, the play of light and shadow outlining her features, the tenderness surging in her eyes as she looked at her through the lens.
All the vivid, warm happiness of the past was now rigidly, cruelly sealed within this picture.
Below it was the inscription on the tombstone: Tomb of My Beloved Wife, Yu Luo — Erected by Wife Qi Song, Daughters Yu Ran, Yu Feng.
Qi Song placed a lush and fresh rose on the ground before the grave, sat down beside it holding Taotao, and leaned her head against the tombstone in a somewhat nostalgic posture.
As if she were leaning into someone’s embrace.
It was an overcast day. The cemetery was flat and open, and the whistling wind was a bit chilly.
She wanted to say something to Yu Luo, but her throat was choked up, and for a long time, she couldn’t get the words out.
She could only avoid the heavy and choose the light10, murmuring in a low voice, “If you don’t come back soon, I’m going to steal all of Taotao’s parent-teacher conferences and attend them all myself…”
If Yu Luo were still alive, she would definitely get anxious hearing that.
When she was anxious, she wouldn’t get angry, just that a hint of grievance would surface in those clear, cold, yet gentle eyes. Her rosy lips would press together lightly, and at most, she would let out a soft huff.
Thinking of this, a slight, loving smile of self-amusement appeared in Qi Song’s eyes, but it quickly dissipated, returning to the profound tranquility of an old well without ripples11.
“I’ve already recorded our entire past in a notebook, so that even when I’m old and my memory grows dim, I can still savor every detail with you.”
“If you were still alive, what would you be like when you’re old?”
…
Qi Song spoke intermittently, her voice gradually growing hoarse, and she couldn’t help but cough twice.
Her head ached from the cold, hard texture of the tombstone, but she was reluctant to move even an inch.
Taotao was dressed warmly, protected in her arms, and had long since fallen soundly asleep.
She gradually stopped talking.
The wind chapped her dry lips, and the gash in her heart was also pierced by the howling gale, leaving it so empty and cold that it felt numb.
Only a year had passed.
For the next decade or more, she would have to continue like this, like a walking corpse, moving meat12, surviving in a world without Yu Luo…
Qi Song slowly closed her eyes, feeling a hopeless dead silence.
Her whole body felt cold, yet it also seemed to be burning hot. In these two heavens of ice and fire13, her consciousness gradually drifted into a trance.
“…Mama?”
It seemed someone was calling her.
Qi Song tried to lift her heavy eyelids but couldn’t.
…
People always have all sorts of wishes.
In ancient times, people’s wishes were often to gather more food or to hunt a plump animal; later, as times developed rapidly, wishes became more complex and difficult to satisfy.
The world’s strong wishes are a vast form of conscious existence. For tens of thousands of years, they have brewed, surged, ascended, intertwined, and condensed—
Finally giving birth to a spiritual entity14 born for the sake of fulfillment.
From the moment she gained consciousness, Ah Ran was busy with other people’s wishes.
She lived on a cloud, surrounded by an endless expanse of soft white.
People’s wishes, whether pure or evil, would all come before her.
And she would select the most sincere wishers from the vast and complex sea of desires, and then decide whether to fulfill that person’s wish.
Of course, the fulfillment of any wish required the person to pay a corresponding price.
Ah Ran remembered one time she was being playful, roaming freely among the wishes, when she happened to see a girl’s wish—
“As long as I can pass my final exams this time, I, this female believer15, am willing to be a vegetarian for life.”
Ah Ran liked these kinds of wishes that came with their own price. So, on a whim that day, with a small wave of her hand, she granted the girl’s wish.
When she remembered this matter some day later, she excitedly went to check again, only to see the girl, now allergic to all kinds of meat, crying her eyes out—
“How did it come true, I want to eat meat, wuwuwu…”
Ah Ran rubbed her little face, abashed.
People are often pious only in the moment they make a wish, but afterward, they are unwilling to take responsibility for the price they offered. And it took Ah Ran a long time to understand this.
She gradually came to feel that humans were very complex creatures.
They were resilient, gentle, kind, and fragile enough to be shattered with a single blow.
At the same time, they were also insatiably greedy, full of ambition, and would gain an inch, advance a foot16.
—Some people even wished for their deceased relatives to return to the human world.
That day, Ah Ran looked at that wish and felt a trace of disbelief.
Birth, old age, sickness, death17, this was the inherent, indestructible law of the human world. How could someone be so ambitious as to vainly attempt to reverse the laws of nature?
The price for this wish was no longer something a mortal could bear, but could only be paid by her—it would require the destruction of her, a spiritual entity nurtured between heaven and earth for tens of thousands of years, causing her ashes to fly and smoke to vanish18.
“Impossible,” Ah Ran shook her head and muttered.
She was meant to be busy with people’s fulfillments forever!
Although people, like that little girl who could only eat vegetables, often felt regret after paying the price, she still loved this duty.
Looking at wishes, or sleeping soundly, she wanted to continue existing in this leisurely and carefree way.
As time went on, she couldn’t avoid starting to yearn for the rich life of the human world.
People always seemed to be bound by that concept of “love,” suffering in agony yet tirelessly pursuing it.
Familial love, friendship, romantic love…
“Love… what does it feel like?” Ah Ran propped up her chin curiously, gazing at the boundless clouds in contemplation.
In the fourth year of her consciousness, she stretched lazily and decided to neglect her duties and go see the human world.
She had to truly come into contact with humans, to understand them, in order to know how to fulfill their wishes.
There was a selfish motive too—
She wanted to feel love.
Ah Ran kind of regretted coming to the human world.
For the first few days, she found it fresh and interesting.
The children on the streets were all held by their parents’ hands. When they cried, they would sob and bury themselves in their mothers’ arms, their backs gently patted.
Ah Ran stood to the side, watching with a bit of envy.
Why didn’t she have a mother?
She searched everywhere and finally found someone who could perhaps be her parent—
She could see everyone’s most urgent wish at that moment, and the wish of a man who had just lost his child was to have another child.
Ah Ran was too young and naive. She never considered why the man’s wish was to have another child, instead of wanting the child he lost to come back.
In any case, after she asked, the man took her home.
After entering the house, the man looked at her wound with kind eyebrows and benevolent eyes. “You’re injured here.”
Ah Ran looked down and only then realized her hand had been scraped at some point, so badly that the flesh was gruesomely exposed.
She belatedly began to feel some pain.
However, as she and the man watched, the wound healed rapidly before their eyes. The flesh and skin grew at an unnatural speed, and finally, the entire hand was as good as new.
Ah Ran blinked, looking up without a care.
And saw that the wish of the man before her had changed—
“She’s a monster. If I eat her flesh and blood, can it cure my illness?”
Ah Ran’s legs trembled, and she slowly backed away.
Humans nowadays, they still eat people?
Her breathing quickened, and she turned and ran.
That time, she was very lucky and escaped in time.
She stumbled along, wandering everywhere. Some people cut her skin to let her blood, trying to drink it to achieve longevity; an organ trafficking organization targeted her, captured her in a basement, wanting to take her organs; some wanted to use her as a little white mouse19 for strange experiments.
There were also people who treated her gently. However, after discovering her unusual nature, they would call her a monster in alarm while trying to lock her up.
She wasn’t always so lucky. Sometimes she escaped successfully, sometimes she didn’t.
Everything had a price secretly marked on it. All the people who had hurt her later received tragic retribution, and fortunately, she wasn’t a real human. No matter how this body was broken, it would always quickly recover to be as good as new.
However, the pain was real, as were the hunger and the cold.
That day, she escaped from a certain house and stood on the street, bruised and swollen. This time she had entered a normal family. The adults in the house only made her do some hard labor and didn’t harm her.
But in the morning, the older brother of the family hit her for no reason, and both adults thought she had provoked him and wanted to punish her further.
She ran away.
The sunlight, long absent, fell on her body, very warm.
And she felt lost.
People came and went on the roadside, talking and laughing casually with each other, as if they had a deep love for the world. Their expressions were so soft, they looked so kind.
Could all of this be a sham?
She had only felt malice and cruelty in the human world.
She wanted to go back to the soft clouds to roll around and sleep.
She felt she could no longer pick up her duties because she had begun to resent humans and had lost the diligent and loving heart for making people’s wishes come true.
She was still lingering, only because a small part of her heart hadn’t given up yet—was the so-called love a complete and utter sham?
One year. Ah Ran decided to set the deadline for one year. When she turned five, she would go back to the clouds without looking back.
From then on, she would no longer care about any fulfillment in the human world.
Finally, on her fifth birthday, Ah Ran’s eyes drooped. She decided to go back to sleep.
She found a piece of bread and squatted by the roadside, nibbling on it slowly.
A boy stopped and looked at her.
Ah Ran saw the boy’s wish was “I want to eat bread,” and decided to show one last bit of benevolence to humanity, handing the bread to the boy.
But the bread was ruined.
She was stunned.
At this moment, her heart, which had been worn down by a year of hardship in the human world, was completely withered and killed by this last straw that broke the camel’s back…
Suddenly, someone spoke beside her, their clear and cold voice stern. “Bow and apologize to her.”
Ah Ran was slightly stunned and slowly looked up.
A small white flower suddenly sprouted from her dead heart, trembling.
The first time.
This was the first time since coming to the human world—
She hadn’t even spoken to the woman in front of her, nor had she seen the woman’s face, let alone known if this woman was good or bad.
But she just, just naturally wanted to go with this woman.
Ah Ran met a person without a wish for the first time—this woman seemed to live a very contented life.
The woman draped her coat over her, gently took her hand, and led her to the bakery across the street to buy bread.
The woman squatted down in front of her and carefully asked if she wanted to go home with her.
It wasn’t the first time Ah Ran had encountered such a scene, but it was the first time she nodded so eagerly.
This woman’s name was Yu Luo.
Yu Luo didn’t mind that she was dirty and smelly, holding her on her lap and comforting her in a soft voice.
Yu Luo gave her a name, saying that her slowness was cute and warm.
Yu Luo meticulously bathed her, washed her hair, cleaned her up until she was neat and tidy, and praised her with a smile for smelling so good.
Yu Luo had a kind of human quality that she had once fantasized about in the clouds—calm, sincere, gentle.
And… love?
After coming to the human world, Ah Ran had never been able to figure out what love was.
But that day, Ah Ran saw that Yu Luo, who had never had a wish, suddenly had a new one—
I hope Ah Ran can grow up healthy and no longer get hurt.
At that moment, Yu Luo was gently bathing her, asking if the water temperature was suitable.
And Ah Ran looked into Yu Luo’s eyes, and through her eyes, she saw her pious wish.
She suddenly couldn’t help but whimper and cry.
Ever since she had gained consciousness, she had always been busy with other people’s wishes. This was the first wish she had ever seen—not for selfish desire, not out of other considerations, but purely for Ah Ran as a person.
Ah Ran had begun to appear in someone else’s wish.
Therefore, she began to feel that she truly existed.
This feeling was like being reborn.
Qi Song was the other person Ah Ran accepted in her heart, besides Yu Luo.
This person’s heart and eyes were completely filled with Yu Luo. Sometimes, Ah Ran felt that Qi Song only loved her through Yu Luo—what people called love the house and its crow20. And this “love the house and its crow” was already enough to make her grateful.
Later, she discovered that she had been prejudiced by a first impression21.
Qi Song’s love for her was not a reluctant accommodation because Yu Luo loved her.
That slight distance on the surface was just due to Qi Song’s bit of possessiveness. She would quietly get a little jealous, but more often, she felt content and joyful seeing the warm interactions between Ah Ran and Yu Luo.
Ah Ran found this side of Qi Song very lively and cute.
She loved Yu Luo and Qi Song very much, and people often say that love is feeling indebted.
She also often wanted to give Yu Luo and Qi Song gifts.
Therefore, whenever she had a gift she wanted to give, she would reluctantly bid farewell to Yu Luo and Qi Song, return to the clouds, and fulfill her own wish—
For example, the flowers that would have withered under Qi Song’s inexperienced gardening skills became more lush and beautiful day by day under Ah Ran’s wish, and were finally happily given to Yu Luo by Qi Song.
For example, Yu Luo wanted to buy a rare, out-of-print book by a certain author as Qi Song’s 26th birthday gift, but after searching all over the second-hand book market, she could only regret that it was not meant to be. But Ah Ran’s wish made that book appear before Yu Luo’s eyes.
Of course, Ah Ran also had to pay a price—depending on the weight of the wish itself, she would be diminished and would need to sleep for a corresponding amount of time to recover.
That day, she finished her slumber and excitedly returned to the human world to find her Mommy and Mama.
…And then she did the most regrettable thing in her life.
She had so easily chosen to leave Yu Luo and Qi Song.
The hurried glance she gave Yu Luo was actually the last.
And she had looked so hastily, not at all meticulously or solemnly. So much so that later, whenever she tried to recall it, the details of Yu Luo’s expression at that time were always hazy, as if covered by a cloth of time.
After returning to the clouds, Ah Ran’s mind was filled with the thought that Yu Luo and Qi Song had a new daughter and might not need her anymore.
She had worried eyebrows and a bitter face22, propping up her chin. In a muddled and ignorant state, time flew by.
Finally one day, she suddenly came to her senses.
She missed Yu Luo and Qi Song.
Among the human wishes floating around her, she closed her eyes to feel, and found the wishes of Yu Luo and Qi Song. When she pulled out those two clusters of wishes, their content was surprisingly the same—
“I hope Ah Ran comes home soon.”
Ah Ran’s nose tingled, her lips trembled, and she couldn’t help but cry.
She felt she had been so awful, to have carelessly trampled on Yu Luo and Qi Song’s love for her.
While feeling remorseful, she also kept staring at that wish, secretly feeling joy and happiness.
She felt that she could now be considered a real human—she had human flaws, and had started to become contradictory and dark.
That day, Ah Ran finally figured things out and decided to go back to accompany Yu Luo and Qi Song—
Suddenly, the two wishes vanished before her eyes.
First, Yu Luo’s disappeared, followed closely by Qi Song’s.
Ah Ran froze, staring blankly at the void, her whole body turning cold.
She thought carefully—that’s right, Yu Luo should be giving birth in these few days.
Taotao was just born, so did Yu Luo and Qi Song no longer look forward to her coming home?
Ah Ran slumped back onto the cloud.
She rubbed her eyes and cried alone and quietly for a long time. Finally, amidst her bitter tears, she made a wish—that the family of three would be safe and healthy.
Then she voluntarily fell into a deep sleep.
When Ah Ran woke up, she was in a state of immense confusion, not knowing what year is this evening23.
She saw that the wish she had made before sleeping was still floating beside her—
Which meant, this wish had not been fulfilled.
With a certain premonition, Ah Ran’s heart stopped, and she began to panic.
She closed her eyes and carefully sensed among the vast sea of wishes, trying to find the wishes of Yu Luo and Qi Song.
She found it.
It was Qi Song’s wish, both weak and strong, so desolate that it made Ah Ran’s heart tremble:
I want to go to my death quickly.
…
Ah Ran stood in front of Qi Song.
The woman was nestled dependently against the tombstone, her cheeks flushed with a morbid red, tightly holding her daughter in her arms.
The cold wind blew her graying long hair, her dry lips occasionally parting: “…Jiejie.”
Her eyelashes trembled uneasily, as if trapped in a nightmare.
This frail, gaunt, and decadent appearance bore no resemblance to the passionate and bright person she once was by Yu Luo’s side, who would bend her eyes like a puppy vying for favor and “warn” her: “You’ve been hugging Mommy for a long time, now it’s my turn.”
Ah Ran shed tears.
She made a decision without a moment’s hesitation, attempting to do something she had once scorned—
To defy the laws of heaven and earth, just so the people she loved could have each other again.
“You will lose your wealth, your fame, your career…”
“You might even lose yourself.”
Ah Ran explained solemnly.
But the woman before her was in tears, ecstatic at the possibility of finding her lover again.
Qi Song wiped her tears and nodded emphatically. “I’m willing to do anything, I’m willing to pay any price.”
She cried until her face was a mess of tears and snot. In the strong wind, she had a disheveled and dejected look. But she was no longer the stagnant pool of water from before; life was slowly being injected into her.
Ah Ran smiled in relief.
This was enough.
“Time will be reversed. Everything that is now will be undone and will cease to exist,” Ah Ran explained. “I can’t guarantee the exact point in time we’ll return to, but I will try my best.”
“Taotao will be sent to that point in time.”
“Your soul24 will also travel back, but before that, you need to find Mommy first.”
Qi Song was a little confused. “Find her?”
“Mommy has already passed away. Even if time is reversed, her soul will be in a damaged state. If you don’t retrieve the part of her that is lost, she will still pass away at the age of 31.”
Seeing Qi Song’s face turn pale, Ah Ran sighed softly. “So, Mama, you must work hard to find Mommy.”
“It’s a place called the Realm of Self-Forgetting25. Even I know nothing about it, only that it is very dangerous.”
“Before you come back, I will take over your body and keep its functions running normally.”
With that, Ah Ran bent down and hugged Qi Song over the sleeping Taotao.
“Mama might have a hard time ahead,” she said.
She didn’t tell Qi Song that this was their last meeting, and their last hug.
She just immersed herself in her reluctance to part, drawing one last bit of warmth from Qi Song.
Qi Song’s heart suddenly felt empty somewhere.
On some intuition, she couldn’t help but ask, “Reversing time ignores the rules of nature. It’s domineering and immense. Is the price to pay really just this?”
She was just a mortal body26. Was losing her wealth, fame, and career, and taking a trip to the Realm of Self-Forgetting, enough to reverse heaven and earth27?
Ah Ran, who was hugging her, stiffened for a moment.
And Qi Song understood instantly, the pain of a certain thought striking her chest—
The biggest price in this was perhaps Ah Ran herself.
Her eyes widened, and just as she was about to speak again, she felt the air around her suddenly stagnate, becoming so heavy and thick that she could no longer move.
It was as if time, which had been rushing forward like a stream flows without ceasing28, had come to an abrupt halt.
Then, under some magnificent force, it reversed, flowing backward…
She sat before the tombstone, watching with her own eyes as the brown leaves on a nearby tree, withered by late autumn, regained their vitality, returning to the lush green of summer, then to the small, tender green of spring’s new birth. It gradually shrank back into the branch and disappeared, and the branch was suddenly covered in the vast snow of deep winter.
After autumn was summer, after summer was spring, after spring was winter… and so it repeated.
The tombstone she was leaning against disappeared, and beneath her was a cemetery plot that had not yet been sold. Her body and Ah Ran’s gradually became ethereal, translucently suspended in time and space…
“Goodbye, Mama…” she heard Ah Ran’s voice, ethereal and distant.
…
Qi Song was thrown out of a door in a sorry state, falling into a void, her eyes red, panting heavily.
This was the Realm of Self-Forgetting.
All around was a boundless, deep darkness, as if she were in the hidden depths of the universe—
Except for the nine doors.
They floated in the void, emitting a soft, hazy white glow, becoming the only hope in this lonely, desolate coldness.
Within the white glow of five of the doors, a faint gold color swirled, a sign that Qi Song had already entered them.
She had just come out of the sixth door, lying on the ground for a long time, unable to move, the residual pain of trauma still surging in her eyes.
There was actually nothing terrifying in these doors. No monsters, no apocalypse, just ordinary and common worlds—
But they were too ordinary and common, and too real.
Every person was so vivid and alive, exactly as Qi Song remembered them.
Her manager, her assistant, her university classmates… and Yu Luo.
…
The moment she entered the first door, Qi Song forgot that she came from the Realm of Self-Forgetting.
She woke up in bed and saw Yu Luo standing by the window looking at the snow. She turned back and smiled at her, “It’s the first snow today.”
Qi Song was stunned for a moment, then smiled along with her.
For some reason, she felt she missed Yu Luo so, so much, but clearly, she was with Yu Luo every day. She threw off the covers and got out of bed, walking a few steps to Yu Luo’s side to watch the snow with her.
Her hand subconsciously went to clingily wrap around Yu Luo’s waist, but she saw Yu Luo sidestep to avoid it.
“What are you doing?” Yu Luo chided. “Don’t move hands, move feet29 with your older sister. Your brother-in-law will get jealous again.”
Qi Song’s heart tightened.
“…Brother-in-law?”
…
Qi Song sat on the sofa, her hands on her lap clutching the fabric so tightly they trembled.
Had something gone wrong somewhere?
Yu Luo was actually her biological sister and was already married. She had just come to B City to find a job and was temporarily staying in her sister’s newlywed home, in the guest room.
No, why did she think “actually”? It was clearly always like this…
Qi Song shivered, feeling restless. She stood up from the sofa. “I’m heading out now.”
She still had two interviews to go to today.
“Okay.” Yu Luo smiled at her, walked over, and gently straightened her shirt collar, just like a wife would.
But she was someone else’s wife.
Qi Song felt a sourness rise in her heart, churning into pain.
Jiejie isn’t mine. It seems I’m fantasizing about my own sister.
The sound of footsteps approached. Qi Song followed the sound and saw a man in loungewear walking towards the living room.
Seeing their intimate behavior, the man frowned. “You’re so old, you still need your sister to help you with your collar.”
Yu Luo turned to look at the man. “This is my biological sister.”
“But your sister is a lesbian!” the man’s voice grew louder.
Qi Song’s brows furrowed instantly.
She pulled Yu Luo behind her and looked at the man coldly. “Is this how you usually yell at my sister?”
The man paused for a moment, then snorted coldly. “This is between us as husband and wife, stay out of it. No matter how much you fantasize about your sister, she’s already married, and you’ll have no chance with her in this lifetime.”
Qi Song’s hands hanging by her sides trembled.
She took a deep breath and repeated, “Is this how you usually yell at my sister?”
The man frowned, looking superior. “So what? Even if I were to hit her—”
Qi Song rushed forward a few steps and threw a punch at the man’s face, causing his nose to bleed instantly and stunning him for several seconds.
“Who do you think you are.”
Tears streamed down Qi Song’s cheeks. As she mercilessly kicked the man away, she choked out, “Who do you all think you are!”
“Yu Luo is my wife, how dare you rewrite this fact, aren’t you too full of yourselves…”
Suddenly, there was a flash of white light before her eyes.
Qi Song was ejected, falling in front of the first door.
A faint gold color swirled in the white light, a mark of her success in seeing through this illusion.
After that, she entered the second door…
She and “Yu Luo” were newlywed wives. On their wedding night, “Yu Luo” was caught by her cheating in the next room. Qi Song looked at that fake “Yu Luo,” who was guilty from being caught, and panted heavily in pain—
“On what grounds, on what grounds do you belittle her in an illusion, this is an insult!”
Before she could finish her choked accusation, she was ejected from the illusion, falling in front of the door.
These illusions were full of flaws, like appetizers before the main course, maliciously toying with Qi Song.
However, as the number of doors she entered increased, the illusions became more and more real, more and more easy to get lost in, and their content became more and more cruel.
Everything was designed to pull her deep into the swamp of the illusion, making it difficult to break free.
—Yu Luo and her were parallel lines that would never intersect, passersby who had never met in their entire lives…
—Yu Luo and her had two children, but the children passed away one after another…
—Yu Luo was in a car accident, and the doctor said she would be in a coma for the rest of her life…
Qi Song didn’t remember how she broke free from those doors.
She only remembered lying in front of the door each time, panting heavily, needing to rest for a long while before she could barely muster a little mental strength and courage to continue into the next door.
In the torment of those illusions, she gradually became sensitive, cold, and suspicious. Because if she lacked any of these traits, she might not have been able to break free.
She worried that one careless mistake would cause her to be forever lost in some illusion, and she also worried that a place she thought was an illusion might hide the real Yu Luo, and they would just pass each other by.
“If one day I meet the real you, but I doubt you, ignore you, misunderstand you, what should I do then?”
Qi Song lay in the void, gazing at the endless darkness around her, and suddenly panicked.
“Please don’t hate me for it…” She raised a hand to cover her eyes, sobbing softly. “I didn’t mean to.”
It was just that her heart had been ground into a thousand holes, forced to erect a hard fortress.
Qi Song felt that in the 28 years of her existence, the first 27 were spent slowly growing, while in the year after Yu Luo’s death, she had aged rapidly.
Now she was lying at the entrance of the seventh door, not wanting to move an inch, but a faint light swirled in her desolate eyes, like the tender life breaking through the soil.
What she had just experienced in the seventh door was her favorite illusion.
Because at the beginning of the illusion, she had a dream within a dream30—she dreamed that she had suddenly returned to Yu Luo’s side.
It was on a hospital bed. She seemed to have just differentiated into an Alpha. She carelessly pulled out the needle in her hand, broke free from her restraints, and burst out of the hospital room.
Doctors and nurses tried desperately to stop her, but she broke free with red eyes, searching everywhere for Yu Luo.
…Found her.
The woman was sitting on a sofa in the rest area, her eyes closed in a light nap.
Qi Song stared straight at Yu Luo. Her heart didn’t erect its usual hard defense, but she couldn’t help but be vigilant and hesitant.
She unconsciously walked towards Yu Luo.
Yu Luo woke up.
Yu Luo softly persuaded her to go back to the hospital room, but she refused.
Yu Luo ruffled her hair and ordered her to go back. This time, she obediently listened.
She was led back to the hospital room by Yu Luo, feeling a little like crying.
This seemed to be the real Jiejie.
Or was it just a realistic “Jiejie“?
She was bewildered and at a loss, covering her face and crying her heart out, like weeping, like blood31.
And Yu Luo stroked the top of her head and said, “I don’t know what you’re going through, or why you’re struggling with what’s real and what’s fake. But if you’re not sure, you don’t have to be so hard on yourself.”
“Even if this is fake… you look so tired in your heart. It’s okay to rest in the arms of a fake me for a little while.”
This was real. Qi Song was sure.
She hugged Yu Luo tightly, shared a lingering kiss with her, and gently caressed and felt her…
And then, this dream within a dream ended.
She got up from the bed, feeling her long-withered spirit being nourished and brought back to life.
The fake “Yu Luo” knocked on the door from outside. Qi Song got up and opened it, and saw “Yu Luo” say, “You should go wash the dishes in the restaurant.”
“What washing dishes.”
Qi Song blinked slowly and chuckled. “I just kissed Yu Luo.”
The next second, she was ejected from the seventh door.
Qi Song lay in front of the door, refusing to move, repeatedly savoring the dream within a dream from the seventh door.
For some reason, she was very sure, absolutely sure.
That wasn’t purely a dream within a dream.
Otherwise, how could she still feel happy even after leaving the illusion?
She might have really returned to Yu Luo’s side for a short while and been intimate with her.
Otherwise, how could her heart, which had been worn down by the first six illusions, now have a clear spring flowing, with tender green shoots sprouting on its banks?
She closed her eyes and smiled with a slight curve of her lips. The tears that flowed from the corners of her eyes were, for the first time in a long time, tears of joy.
She had the courage to enter the eighth door.
I have to be faster, even faster, to get back to Jiejie’s side.
She was her most, most favorite Jiejie.
“Xiao Song, you’ve come back to see us?”
An elderly woman sat in a wheelchair, a warm smile on her face.
“Yes.” Qi Song walked behind the old woman, pushing her wheelchair for a walk in the orphanage.
“Our Xiao Song is so successful,” the old woman said proudly. “She’s already an international star.”
Qi Song smiled humbly. “It’s all thanks to the director for picking me up and taking me into the orphanage and taking good care of me when I was little.”
“You should still come home often in the future,” the old woman said.
Qi Song agreed, the smile on her lips a little faint.
For some reason, she never felt that this orphanage was home. In fact, there was no place in the entire world that felt like home.
She had been a stray on the streets since she was a child, no different from the stray dogs on the roadside.
As if she had been abandoned by some owner.
Even after entering the orphanage and growing step by step to become the popular Film Empress of the entertainment industry, she always felt a kind of wandering loneliness.
Eating was lonely, sleeping was lonely, even breathing was lonely.
When she was looking for a coach to teach her surfing for an acting role, she was exceptionally lonely.
That day when she went to Northern Europe on a business trip and accidentally encountered the mysterious and romantic aurora, she suddenly felt so lonely she wanted to die.
As the dazzling pearl of the entertainment industry, people flattered her, or genuinely praised and followed her.
She actually just found it all coldly noisy.
She self-diagnosed—she was probably indeed missing a piece of her heart.
As for what that was exactly, she wasn’t quite sure.
Her phone vibrated in her pocket. Qi Song took it out and saw that Li Zhiyun32, the most prestigious Three-Gold Film Queen33 in the current film industry, had sent her a message asking if she was free for dinner.
Li Zhiyun was pursuing her, but she hated Li Zhiyun.
This hatred was without reason. If she had to think about it carefully, it seemed to be a strange kind of red-eyed psychology—
The most dazzling Film Queen standing at the pinnacle of the film industry, why is it you? On what grounds is it you?
But, Qi Song didn’t wish to replace Li Zhiyun herself.
Then what was she red-eyed34 about?
Qi Song couldn’t figure it out.
In any case, she frowned and rejected Li Zhiyun. After coming back from the orphanage, she lay at home.
She was 23 this year, yet her state of mind was as calm as if she could die at any moment.
No expectations, no direction, everything just flowed forward in a muddle.
She casually picked up the book beside her—《Norwegian Wood》35.
She didn’t actually like this book that much, yet she read it over and over. Just like she didn’t particularly love eating braised fish in soy sauce, yet she repeatedly made it for herself.
This was the fourth time she had read this book.
As with every previous reading, her gaze unconsciously paused on a certain line on a certain page:
“…looking at that rich sunset.”
Rich sunset. (浓郁落日)
She found herself very fond of this phrase, yet she didn’t know what exactly about it made her heart itch.
She savored it in her mouth many times, eventually deleting and reducing it until only two characters remained—Yu Luo. (郁落)
Qi Song suddenly couldn’t help but clutch her heart.
It seemed to have just throbbed with a sharp pain, followed by more feelings of numbness and itching.
Her breathing became a little rapid.
Where had she seen these two characters before?
She opened her laptop, searched online, but found no results. According to census statistics, no one in the world even had this name.
Qi Song woodenly tossed the laptop aside and lay back down.
The passion that had been surging just a moment ago dissipated in an instant, leaving only a bitter, empty feeling.
There was no Yu Luo in this world. The thought of this was unbearable to her.
This world had no Yu Luo, and was thus so loathsome.
This world didn’t even have Yu Luo, making one feel it was pathetic, fake, and just want to break free and escape…
…
Qi Song was ejected from the eighth door.
She closed her eyes, exhausted, her mind a chaotic mess for a moment.
She had stayed in the illusion of the eighth door for too long, so long that for a moment she couldn’t tell whether reality was inside or outside the door.
Yu… Yu Luo.
This name was like her safeword, her heart-calming needle36. The thought of this word would instantly break through all haze and obscurity, guiding her to the truest place.
Qi Song slowly opened her eyes.
She felt very tired in her heart and wanted to rest for a while before going to the ninth door. Yet she also felt that this fatigue was nothing. She wanted to rush to Yu Luo quickly, not to let Yu Luo wait long…
Qi Song propped herself up and sat up from the ground.
She stared at the ninth door, breathing deeply.
This should be the most perilous and difficult illusion to distinguish from reality.
But, as long as Yu Luo was ahead, no matter how difficult, she would reach her.
Qi Song’s gaze became determined, her mental strength and courage gathered again, and just as she was about to stand up—
A bright light suddenly flared in her peripheral vision, making her squint her eyes. It took a few seconds for her to open them wide again.
She saw the eight doors she had already been through neatly arranged in the void, the faint golden light flowing brilliantly, as dazzling as the aurora.
They intertwined and merged within it, finally transforming into the phantom of a key, which flowed into the ninth door.
And the ninth door then swung wide open before her, revealing the scene inside—
Dusk was overflowing, and rosy evening clouds wrapped romantically around the horizon, boundless and brilliant.
Under the reflection of the pink light, the deep blue sea shimmered, swaying leisurely in the evening breeze.
And Yu Luo, dressed in a long gown as magnificent and intense as a red spider lily37, stood quietly before that splendid scene, the sea breeze gently swaying the ends of her long, curly hair.
Qi Song’s heart contracted violently, pounding against her chest, making it feel moist and hot.
She immediately propped herself up and ran in Yu Luo’s direction, running faster and heavier. Her bare feet stepped on the white sand, feeling its real warmth and softness under the sun.
Her eyes instantly filled with tears. By the time two words were squeezed from her throat, they were already distorted by sobs:
“Jiejie—”
Yu Luo turned around.
Her exquisitely beautiful face held a gentle smile, and a sigh that felt as if separated by a lifetime. Hot tears streamed down amidst that smile and sigh.
She stretched out her hands and caught Qi Song who was running passionately towards her.
Their bodies collided with a real pain and itch.
In the tight embrace, Yu Luo closed her eyes and buried her head in Qi Song’s neck.
“I miss you so much,” she said softly.
Just like in the countless certain moments between them in the past.
The author has something to say:
The little puppy has found her Jiejie! I feel like this is a very suitable place to mark the end of the main text ()
The dream within a dream in the seventh door of this chapter is the content from the second half of Chapter 88 and Chapter 89.
Worried that everyone following the updates would be sad for too long, these past few days I have completely put aside my studies and used all my time from morning to night to write, so I could finish writing this sad part in one go and post it. Now I can finally relax. Take a closer look, this chapter is over ten thousand words! The previous two chapters were also nine thousand words each! Isn’t that considerate (hands on hips)?
All that’s left is sweet and happy content. I don’t know how many chapters are left, it feels like it could end at any time. Everyone can talk about the extras you want to see in the comments section, and I’ll write them if I get inspired.
Also, for the next book, 《The Film Queen Ex-Girlfriend is Fishing for Me in the Book Again Today》, I will stockpile a large number of chapters before publishing (to avoid not being able to update daily like with this book), so during the long stockpiling period, I might randomly post some Baihe short stories in the book 《The Sister-in-Law is Digging at the Wall’s Corner Again》. Everyone can follow that if you’re interested. 《The Sister-in-Law is Digging at the Wall’s Corner Again》 is not planned to go behind a paywall38. The main focus is on being happy, sweet, and taboo, with things like sister-in-law and husband’s younger sister, teacher and student, all sorts of messy tropes and kinks39 mixed together (what doesn’t change is the younger top40 & abusing the cannon fodder male41 hhh), I’ll just let myself fly42, suitable as a light diversion from life.
Thank you everyone for your companionship along the way, I bow~
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