Nineteen years later
Late autumn,
the cold rain fell without letup,
A young man sat blankly in a coffee shop, gazing out at the streams of traffic and the bustling city beyond the window.
Though his hands felt the warmth of the cup, his heart was ice-cold.
Why?
Because of the hospital report in his arms.
When the doctor had explained the report, he'd been evasive, using words like "suspected," "possible," and "cannot rule out." But Fang Linyan had still sensed something deeply ominous.
So he called a client who knew medicine. He didn't say it was his own report, only that it belonged to a friend. After Fang Linyan finished reading out its contents, the client said casually:
"Late-stage lung cancer. There's basically no hope."
Then Fang Linyan's mind went completely blank for more than half an hour. He stood dazed at the roadside and, in the end, had no idea how he got home.
When he came to, he found himself sitting blankly beside his bed, his hands cold and his mind utterly lost. He mechanically poured himself a glass of water and drank it down a little at a time. Only then did his mind gradually clear.
Suddenly, it was as though all the strength had been drained from his body. He slumped to the floor, covered his face with both hands, and let out a sob:
"I don't want to die. I'm only nineteen!"
For Fang Linyan, that November in late autumn was the longest month of his life. First, the family member he'd depended on passed away. Then, as soon as the funeral was over, he was diagnosed with late-stage lung cancer.
Fang Linyan had suffered countless hardships since childhood, and they had made him resilient. But faced with one devastating blow after another, he broke down all the same. He spent two whole days shut away in his rented room before he recovered. Yet even then, faced with the sheer terror of life and death, his emotions still spiraled out of control from time to time.
But wasn't that how it was for everyone? Drifting silently far from home, sometimes screaming and weeping, crying out to the heavens in an outburst—only to gradually grow quiet again, numb as they gritted their teeth and struggled through this indifferent world?
Cold stares, cold nights, cold rain, cold encounters. Over the course of that month, Fang Linyan had endured too many disdainful looks and too much pressure. The fact that he hadn't completely fallen apart was proof of just how strong he was. The world had been far too harsh and cruel to him, yet he still gritted his teeth and held on with a cockroach's tenacity!
After a while, Fang Linyan finally stood up again. He wiped away the tears at the corners of his eyes and took several deep breaths, managing to pull himself together. He coughed a few times, his brow furrowing as he clearly fought through the pain. After searching the house, he found half a stick of beef jerky that had gone slightly damp.
Though Fang Linyan had no appetite at all, he gritted his teeth and slowly ate the leftover beef jerky. Anyone watching him tear at the food with furrowed brows would have thought he looked just like a wolf.
A starving wolf driven to the end of its rope in a blizzard, yet still baring its teeth and bristling!
Wild, and dangerous!
One sentence had always stayed with Fang Linyan:
Whatever doesn't kill us only makes us stronger!
After eating, Fang Linyan checked his phone and saw that some money had come in. He was just about to head out when a violent coughing fit suddenly struck. He doubled over, bracing himself against the wall, coughing so hard it felt as though he would hack up his own insides.
After a long while, Fang Linyan finally straightened up, panting. Blood had clearly trickled from the corner of his mouth, and his palm was smeared with blood where he'd covered it. He casually grabbed a piece of paper to wipe away the blood, took a pill, and then walked out weakly.
The supermarket on the street corner was still open, but a light rain was falling. Cold raindrops mixed with the frigid wind, bringing a chill that seeped into the bone. Even those carrying umbrellas hunched their heads and necks as they hurried along.
Because this road was rather secluded, the security cameras and traffic cameras installed there had long since broken down. And since this was a poor neighborhood, the authorities didn't pay it much attention. As a result, overloaded trucks and construction-waste haulers sped down the road with reckless abandon, roaring as they barreled along. The road itself was badly damaged.
With an indifferent expression, Fang Linyan walked along the road. Five minutes later, he reached the supermarket and began shopping.
"A case of Jumbo Cup instant noodles."
"Ten jin of dried noodles (near expiration, on sale)."
"One bag of beef jerky (for nutrition)."
"One packet of broad bean paste (for noodle seasoning)."
"..."
It was clear that Fang Linyan had bought these things simply to keep himself fed. Why was he so frugal? Because he had borrowed a lot of money to pay for Uncle Xu's medical treatment and funeral. Altogether, he owed more than a hundred thousand yuan.
Fang Linyan's childhood and adolescence had been difficult, and he carried a deep resentment in his heart. But when his outlook on life was taking shape, he had been deeply influenced by the honest and sincere Uncle Xu.
So now he clung to one conviction: even if his terminal illness really couldn't be cured, he had to repay his debts before he died. On top of that, the boss he'd worked for before was a notorious skinflint. That was why Fang Linyan was so frugal.
After quickly buying everything he needed, Fang Linyan picked up his purchases and headed for the checkout. But just then, he felt a pain in his stomach and went to the supermarket restroom.
After leaving the stall, he naturally went to the sink outside to wash his hands. There was usually a mirror directly opposite the sink, where customers could tidy themselves up.
The pale light overhead shone down on the empty sink area. After washing his hands, Fang Linyan habitually splashed cold water on his face to wake himself up. It was a habit he'd picked up during the years he worked at the auto repair shop.
But when he looked up at the mirror opposite, a sudden chill swept through him. An indescribable terror instantly engulfed him from head to toe!
Because Fang Linyan couldn't see his face in the mirror!
Where the mirror should have been, there was only a dense swirl of black mist! Worse still, a scarred, bloodied hand reached out of the vortex, seized Fang Linyan by the throat, and yanked him forward.
Fang Linyan felt a searing pain where the hand gripped his neck, as though it had been branded by a red-hot iron! His whole body was utterly powerless. More accurately, his strength was no match for the blood-red hand at all.
Just as Fang Linyan's face was about to crash into the swirling black mist, he suddenly saw a crazed, blood-red eyeball emerge from within it. It looked as though it had been torn right out of its socket, with scraps of crimson tissue still clinging around it, its surface filled with blood vessels.
The deep, dark pupil seemed to exert an immense pull. The moment Fang Linyan's gaze met it, he felt as if he were soaring through the clouds, the world spinning around him. Then he lost consciousness, unaware of anything at all.
He had no idea how much time had passed when Fang Linyan suddenly felt a searing pain in his chest. His whole body convulsed, and he came to amid a dizzying spin.
He realized he was still standing at the sink. He gasped several times and swallowed, then looked around. There was no bloodied, scarred hand, no swirling mass of dense black mist, and no bloodshot eye.
There was only the quiet restroom, the sound of water dripping from the faucet, and the pale, gentle light shining down from above. He was still bracing himself against the sink with both hands, staring into the mirror, as though everything he'd experienced had been nothing but an illusion!
Fang Linyan stood there in a daze for a while, then walked out, picked up his shopping basket, and headed for the checkout. But as soon as he left the restroom, he froze. The supermarket staff had already started mopping the floor and tidying the shelves.
This ordinary sight meant it was already close to nine thirty. The supermarket closed at ten, and the staff had to start cleaning early if they wanted to get off work on time.
But Fang Linyan remembered clearly that he'd left home at seven thirty. When he left, the TV in the little shop by his door had been showing CCAV's weather forecast. It took no more than twenty minutes to walk from his home to the supermarket. He never browsed the aisles, either—he just picked up the things on his list and left. So he had spent in the restroom...
A full hour and a half!!
The bizarre thought made the hairs on Fang Linyan's back stand on end.
"That... that's impossible!"
If he'd really been standing there with both hands braced against the sink for an hour and a half, someone in the supermarket would have come to check on him. At the very least, they wouldn't be looking at him now as though nothing were wrong.
What on earth had happened during that hour and a half?
Before you continue