Ye Mian, don’t be afraid. I’ll save you.

After she finished carefully sketching the draft, she spread the paper out. Upon it was a small building shrouded in rain and mist, viewed from the perspective of the old locust tree. A slender youth stood beneath the veranda, a thin scar tracing the end of his brow. He bit down on a strip of gauze, which wound around his palm. The style was strikingly realistic, yet once transferred onto paper, it somehow lacked a touch of authenticity.

Ye Mian gazed at it in silence, her fingertips gently brushing the surface, breathing in the mingled scent of charcoal and pulp. In the darkest corners of her heart, a crack began to open.

There was much from her previous life she could no longer recall. Ye Mian seldom tried to remember, only knowing that Jiang Chen had occupied a mere sliver of those memories. In this life, however, he filled nearly every corner.

Every recollection of Jiang Chen—each scene, every small detail—remained vividly etched in her mind.

Yet after two days, Jiang Chen still hadn’t sent her a single message. The WeChat account they had just added each other on lay lifeless, displaying only the default system prompt:

[I’ve accepted your friend request. Start chatting now~]

The weather had suddenly turned chill, and colds were rampant. Once the weekend was over and people mingled again, both Qin Feifei and Wang Xiang came down with severe colds. Both being locals, they went home to avoid infecting Ye Mian.

Alone in the empty dormitory, Ye Mian felt no fear. But when she awoke the next morning, her mind was thick and muddled, even opening her eyes was a challenge, and her throat felt raw and torn, as if stuffed with cotton.

Outside, the sky was overcast, casting a dim light through the dorm. With a parched, raspy throat, Ye Mian swallowed a pill with a gulp of cold water, but the discomfort lingered.

She took out her phone and texted the counselor to request a leave of absence. After receiving approval, she curled up beneath the covers once more.

The air seemed to have ceased moving. The silence magnified her senses—every tiny sound became sharp and distinct, yet the effect of the medicine left her drowsy and unfocused.

Her phone, by her ear, played soothing sounds of water flowing beneath a small bridge, meant to aid sleep. After about ten minutes, it switched to an audio course on psychology.

The woman’s voice over the radio was gentle, tinged with a faint static, drifting hazily into Ye Mian’s ears.

“—Yukio Mishima once said, ‘Life is only bearable through continuous forgetting.’”

“—Have you ever experienced being forgotten? Today, we’ll experience a brief hypnotherapy session together.”

Ye Mian frowned, reaching for her phone to switch to something else, but her gaze was caught by the title of the session:

“Hypnosis: Awakening Forgotten Memories”

She paused, thinking it unlikely to work, and scrolled to the comments to see what others had said. Contrary to her expectations, it wasn’t all negative.

[Bu Niu: Why didn’t I feel hypnotized at all?]

[Blue: It really is hypnotic—I want to sleep.]

[Jing Mei’er: When she counted down to one, I cried. Thank you.]

[Niao Niao: I saw a female ghost in the mirror!]

[Ruins Walker: Remembered people and things from over twenty years ago. It played out like a movie, but what’s the use of remembering?]

The reactions were mixed.

Ye Mian considered for a moment, then set the phone on her pillow and pressed play.

Why not try it? It might be interesting.

Besides, the host’s voice was pleasant to listen to.

“—Are you ready? Before we begin, there’s just one thing: you need to be in a quiet environment. If you feel nervous or resistant, I’ll continue to give you courage and encouragement. Hypnosis is built on trust between us. Please trust me. Now, close your eyes...”

The voice flowed like water, accompanied by the gentle tolling of a bell, truly soothing her.

Ye Mian followed the instructions, closed her eyes, and relaxed her shoulders and scalp.

Half in a daze, she seemed to see a scene unfold before her.

She was disoriented for a second, wanting to get up, but her body would not allow it, compelling her to keep watching.

She couldn’t tell if she was dreaming or awake, or if the hypnosis was working after all.

There was no sound around her.

The image drew closer.

It was a pitch-black, rainy night.

She saw a girl wandering the empty streets, hair disheveled, her dress torn and in disarray, a hole in the sleeve. Clearly, she had been bullied.

The girl hobbled to a corner, her bare feet pale, and squatted down, hugging herself.

It was impossible to tell the month. The street was deserted, and the girl looked cold, her body trembling, sobs muffled by the heavy rain.

Ye Mian couldn’t describe how she felt—strangely, she began to ache for the girl, wanting to go and hold her.

But soon, she saw someone standing at the street corner—a figure she knew well.

Ye Mian tried to move closer, but her perspective was fixed as if nailed to the spot.

From the utter darkness, that person stepped into the rain, hair soaked and plastered to his face, a glinting stud in his ear.

But in just an instant, Ye Mian recognized him.

Jiang Chen.

It was Jiang Chen.

He walked up to the girl, crouched down, and draped his coat over her.

The girl shivered, slowly raising her head. Her face was streaked with tears, blood trickling from the corner of her mouth.

Her features were identical to Ye Mian’s own.

Seeing her own face reflected there, Ye Mian nearly screamed, shivering from head to toe.

The disturbing scene battered her nerves.

She heard Jiang Chen’s cool, distant voice echo in her mind.

“Ye Mian, don’t be afraid. I’ll take you home.”

The “Ye Mian” on the ground struggled with all her might, resisting any closeness. She seemed broken, powerless, utterly desolate, her mouth open wide, but her voice barely a whisper.

“Jiang Chen, I wish I could die right now.”

“Jiang Chen, I can’t see the light anymore. He’s destroyed me.”

“Jiang Chen, if living in this world means bearing such pain, I truly don’t want to go on.”

Ye Mian watched the scene unfold, her entire body numb, wrapped in a shroud of negativity. She could feel the sorrow as if it were her own.

Jiang Chen looked down at the girl, then lifted her onto his back.

No matter how the girl bit at his shoulder like a frightened cat, he carried her.

His back was tall and slender, his spine perfectly straight as he walked—like someone who’d never bowed for anyone, yet now he was utterly bent.

The girl’s cries were sharp with despair. “I really don’t want to live.”

Raindrops traced the arch of his brow, slid down his nose to his jaw. Ye Mian could almost see the muscles tensed in his face, his jaw clenched tight.

His cold, distant voice was like a ghost’s chill. “Ye Mian, don’t be afraid. I’ll save you.”

The image in the rain suddenly froze. Ye Mian’s vision went black, and she snapped her eyes open.

In the gloom of the cold day, a fine layer of sweat clung to her brow.

Her mind was scattered, adrift.

And in her ears, that phrase still echoed:

“Ye Mian, don’t be afraid. I’ll save you.”

(End of chapter)