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Dreams might be connected to reality. Zhuang Xiaodie once understood this, and her parents likely thought so, giving her the name "Zhuang Sheng's dream at dawn is filled with butterflies." If you remember the poem, it might seem poetic, but on a normal day, it feels rather rustic. She disliked the name, yet she didn't change it in adulthood. She had a friend named Nian Jinsi. They'd first met in elementary school, eager to show off their knowledge. While discussing names, they realized their names came from the same poem, quickly drawing a close bond. "The brocade zither has fifty strings, each one a pillar, a reminder of youth. Zhuang Sheng's dream at dawn is filled with butterflies, and King Wang's spring heart is placed on the cuckoo." The lines even connect. Later, they hoped to meet someone related to the cuckoo, but alas, they didn't. Afterward, they drifted apart and rarely contacted each other.
Zhuang Xiaodie hardly ever looks in the mirror, not just at this moment, but has been like this since she was a child.
In elementary school, crudely printed ghost story books were all the rage. Anyone who brought a copy would circulate it throughout the class, peeking in class, discussing it after class, and scaring each other for fun. After a long wait, Zhuang Xiaodie finally got her copy. From so many thumbnails, the pages were curled, and two staples had come loose, leaving one page detached and tucked away in the middle.
That was the page Zhuang Xiaodie first turned to. It told the story of a man living in a dormitory with a classmate. They were discussing a legend that said someone combing their hair in front of a mirror at night for a certain number of seconds would discover an identical person behind them. At this point, they must not look back, or the lamp on their shoulder would be blown out, and someone else would take their place. As is typical in ghost stories, at this point in time, someone must take a risk, and the inevitable result of such risk is a bloody catastrophe, fulfilling the legend. While combing their hair, the man saw another "self," turned back, and perished.
The author was a skilled storyteller, describing the scene vividly, making the blood seem to splatter right before her eyes. Zhuang Xiaodie hadn't intended to remember it, but the image lingered. So she brought it up with Nian Jinsi. Nian Jinsi, known for her courage, was also frightened, but she quickly forgot about it. Zhuang Xiaodie felt left out and lonely, but this only made her dwell on the story. She used to get up all night, and whenever she passed the large mirror at home, she'd duck her head and rush past, only to feel a creepy sensation of a shadow chasing her. Over time, to stop the night terrors, she forced herself to break the habit.
Later, the story faded from her mind, and she no longer thought about it often. But the habit of not getting up at night and not looking in the mirror persisted into adulthood. Whether in college or after graduation and work, she rarely looked in the mirror. Especially now, sleeping under the bridge, there was no mirror to look at. Every day when she got up and washed her face in the river, she would not even look at herself in the water, as if needles were pricking her.
However, she couldn't see it in reality, but she couldn't help but see it in her dreams. Perhaps it was because she didn't follow the routine today and met Shentu Hai, or perhaps it was because Shentu Hai painted her today and she saw her own painting, which was similar to looking in the mirror. In short, she found herself combing her hair in front of the mirror.
It was pitch black outside the window, and the lights in the room were dim. She stared intently at the mirror as she combed her hair until a figure emerged behind her. It was unreal at first, but then became more and more real, smiling faintly at her. When she saw the face of the person behind her clearly, her whole body trembled, and she screamed in shock, waking up from her dream.
Daybreak arrived, and it was already past four in the morning. Zhuang Xiaodie, still terrified, jumped up at the vibration of something beneath her, only to discover it was her phone. The screen trembled with the vibration, flashing a name she hadn't seen in a while: Nian Jinsi.
After years of no contact, yet here she was calling. She'd just had another strange dream. Zhuang Xiaodie stared at the three words, unmoving. Shentu Hai, wrapped in a blanket, turned over in his dream, unaware of what was happening.
The phone ended. Zhuang Xiaodie felt a sigh of relief for some reason. She looked up and around. Even the fisherman hadn't arrived yet. Everything was silent, shrouded in a quiet, pale blue. The moon still hung high in the sky, but its light was only faint. The sky gradually brightened.
Just as she was about to lie down again, the phone screen lit up again, with the same three words - Nian Jinsi.
Zhuang Xiaodie picked up her phone, glanced at Shentu Hai, and walked away. After a moment's hesitation, she finally answered the call.
"Xiaodie?" Nian Jinsi was panting on the other end of the phone, and with the sound of footsteps, she seemed to be running.
"Running at this time?" said Zhuang Xiaodie.
"I always go to bed early and get up early." Nian Jinsi said. She stopped, but Zhuang Xiaodie felt that she was traveling at a very fast speed.
"What's up?"
"It's like this—" Nian Jinsi said, "How have you been lately?"
"improvise."
"Remember when we graduated from college, we agreed to visit each other's cities?" Nian Jinsi asked, "and we said we could stay at each other's houses?"
Bringing up this matter at this time?
Zhuang Xiaodie hesitated for a moment, then said, "Yes, of course I remember. Do you want to come?"
"--May I?"
Zhuang Xiaodie wanted to refuse, but the words were stuck between her teeth and she couldn't spit them out.
"I've already bought the ticket. It'll arrive in two days. Can you send me the address?"
"Now?"
"inconvenient?"
"I'll send it to you after I hang up." Zhuang Xiaodie said, ready to hang up, pretending to have forgotten about it and then blocking the other party. But Nian Jinsi laughed on the other end. This laugh made her miss it so much that her fingers trembled and she didn't press the button to hang up.
"Xiaodie, you are the only one I have." Nian Jinsi said, and his voice seemed choked with sobs, but his next sentence returned to normal, "Then send a message later. I have something else to do, so I'll hang up first." Then he hung up the phone.
It happened so fast that Zhuang Xiaodie felt like she was still half asleep. She lay back down, but couldn't fall asleep. As soon as she closed her eyes, the other "self" in her dream was etched deep in her mind, still smiling at her. After tossing and turning for a while, she finally got up. By then, daylight had broken, and she saw Shentu Hai's sketchbook lying next to her. It turned out that Shentu Hai had slept with it the night before.
So precious?
Zhuang Xiaodie flipped through a few pages, first coming across her own. She stared at it silently for a few seconds before turning the page. At first, there was a continuous blank space. Just when she thought there was nothing else, a figure suddenly flashed. Zhuang Xiaodie was startled and quickly flipped back. She saw a man, plainly dressed, with a serious expression, his eyes glancing off, as if observing something. She turned the page again, and there was the same man again, this time crouched in a place Zhuang Xiaodie couldn't recognize.
This continued for several pages, with a date written in the lower right corner of each painting, which lasted for two months. The date on the last page happened to be the day before yesterday. In addition to the portrait and date, this page also had a few more words:
--Where?
Zhuang Xiaodie looked up at Shentu Hai who was sleeping, and suddenly shivered, feeling cold in the early morning of late spring.
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