Memory

“The day Chen Anran died, there were no ghosts at the reservoir.”

Bai Miaoqing couldn’t understand what An Ruxin meant.

There were ghosts.

She wasn’t lying.

There were ghosts.

Ghosts are real.

“…Then it’s just a made-up story that happened to match reality.” Bai Miaoqing heard her own voice.

An Ruxin seemed to scoff coldly: “…Don’t you think that sounds ridiculous?”

“Ghosts are real.” Bai Miaoqing realized An Ruxin doubted her because she hadn’t yet understood what she meant. So she couldn’t get mad at Ruxin again—because negative emotions were being amplified by Chen Anran’s ability. She herself had just become unfamiliar and irritable. She had to explain things to Ruxin properly.

“I know, Chen Anran was killed by a ghost,” Bai Miaoqing said calmly. “Ghosts exist—”

“If there were no ghosts, why would my wish have come true?” Bai Miaoqing said this naturally.

“…Wish?” An Ruxin’s face showed a mixture of confusion and cold contempt. It pierced Bai Miaoqing’s heart, but she reminded herself it was just Chen Anran’s influence—amplifying negative emotions as part of her plan to further destroy her life. So Bai Miaoqing swallowed the pain and calmly presented her evidence.

“Ruxin, you looked into the legend of the female ghost at the reservoir, right?” Bai Miaoqing spoke softly and cheerfully. “Even though she’s a ghost, she can grant people’s wishes. That day, I made a wish at the reservoir, and it came true. So, ghosts must be real.”

“I see…” A strange expression appeared on An Ruxin’s face—one Bai Miaoqing couldn’t understand, or rather, didn’t want to understand. It had to be the influence again—Ruxin was normally the gentlest person. Ruxin turned her head and said, “I don’t know what your wish was, but your argument is easy to refute. It’s still absurd.”

“That’s not true.” Bai Miaoqing tried to argue, but An Ruxin cut her off with a direct question:

“You went to the reservoir with Chen Anran that day, right? The one who was more interested in the mystery of the reservoir was actually Chen Anran, wasn’t it?”

Bai Miaoqing disliked the accusatory tone—but since Ruxin was thinking along with her, willing to listen to her explanation, she was satisfied. She nodded, signaling agreement.

An Ruxin adjusted her hair and continued, “So, both you and Chen Anran made wishes at the reservoir, right?”

“…Yeah.” Bai Miaoqing had a bad feeling about where this was going.

“Yes, both of us made wishes.”

An Ruxin raised her chilling question: “But Chen Anran died. Unless her wish was to die—which isn’t hinted at anywhere in her diary—I don’t think that’s possible. Besides, if someone wants to die, they don’t need to make a wish. There are plenty of methods—wrist-slashing, hanging, drowning, poison. If she really wanted to die, she would’ve found a way. You also said she called for help after falling into the water, and you ran away because you were afraid of the ghost. So clearly, dying wasn’t her wish.”

“Chen Anran’s wish wasn’t to die.” Bai Miaoqing stated firmly.

“Then she still died. So, her wish didn’t come true. But yours did. That means ghosts don’t exist. Whatever your wish was, it coming true had nothing to do with the legend of the lovesick ghost at the reservoir.”

Bai Miaoqing laughed.

“…What? Did I say something wrong?”

“No, no…” She shook her head gently. “…Chen Anran’s wish came true too. That’s exactly why I’m so angry—because even though her wish came true, she still wouldn’t let me go.”

An Ruxin was clearly shocked and stood up: “What exactly happened at the reservoir that day?”

If she didn’t tell Ruxin, the doubts would never end, right?

Then she should tell her. If it was Ruxin, she would definitely believe her.

Bai Miaoqing cleared her throat and began the story…

——

When I got to the meeting spot in the back hills, Chen Anran had already been waiting a long time. The moment she saw me, she couldn’t help but complain a little: “Why’d you take so long…”

“W-Well…” I was so nervous I didn’t know where to put my hands. I knew she wasn’t really mad, but I still panicked and whispered like a mosquito, “We said we’d sneak out without the adults knowing… So I waited until my parents started fighting… then pretended I couldn’t take it and ran out…”

“What would you have done if your parents hadn’t argued?” Chen Anran asked curiously.

My answer came out pathetically: “…They argue every day.”

A look of concern appeared in Chen Anran’s eyes. She opened her mouth like she wanted to say something but didn’t, as if afraid of making me more upset. That made me feel even worse—because I knew she was genuinely worried about me. I knew she was probably blaming herself for making a difficult request. But… even if she truly cared, she could never really understand how I felt. She was better than me. Happier than me. That would never change.

Still, even if being with her was sometimes painful… she was my only friend. The time I spent with Chen Anran was the only time I felt like I could breathe.

So I immediately regretted what I said.

Maybe she’d think my family was too troublesome and never ask me out again.

That thought made me gather my courage: “Let’s not talk about that. Let’s… go explore?”

“Ah! Sure!” Chen Anran handed me a small bag of snacks from her pocket and pulled out a photo. “I found this picture of the reservoir online—get familiar with it, so you don’t get scared! If you do, we can just leave right away, it’s totally fine!”

I wanted to say I wouldn’t ruin the mood, but the moment I saw the photo, I started getting scared. So backing out later was still a real possibility… and going back on my word would be even worse. I stuffed the photo and the snacks in my pocket and silently followed Chen Anran.

We passed through the chirping forested hills, and the legendary reservoir appeared before us. The midday sun made it look especially pale and towering. Remembering the ghost story, I couldn’t help but feel afraid. Just then, Chen Anran cheerfully shouted, “The ladder’s over here! Let’s climb up and take a look!”

“Mm… okay…”

Maybe she heard the fear in my voice, because she turned around and reassured me: “It’s fine, don’t be scared! I asked around before coming—people come here sometimes. Even students from our school have explored it before. Nothing bad ever happened, right?”

That made sense. I nodded and kept telling myself it was okay.

We climbed the ladder one after the other to a small platform above the reservoir. From here, you could look down into the water. It was surprisingly dark green—clearly unclean—and there was even some garbage floating around. The smell was unpleasant, and with the sun blazing down, I started to feel dizzy. I really didn’t get what was so fun about this place.

Chen Anran didn’t seem bothered. She leaned on the railing, staring straight down.

For a few seconds, neither of us said anything. Oddly, I began to relax… Nothing strange had happened. Chen Anran was silent. Without seeing her face, I didn’t have to keep guessing what she meant by every word, didn’t have to worry if she was already sick of me. Without the burden of my tangled emotions, I just focused on being with her. And that made me feel… a little better.

“…Hard to tell if there are any ghosts,” Chen Anran broke the silence, pulling her gaze from the water. “Miaoqing, are you okay? Is it too sunny?”

“I’m fine…”

“Then let’s make a wish!” Chen Anran broke into a happy smile, her cheeks glowing under the sunlight. She was wearing a white dress with pockets today—honestly, I’m amazed she wasn’t afraid of getting it dirty. Even when visiting an abandoned reservoir, she still made the effort to dress so carefully. If it were me, I’d never dare wear such a nice outfit here—too afraid of ruining it.

It’s in these endless little details that I find myself especially jealous of Chen Anran. And also, especially in awe of her.

“Make a wish?” I didn’t react right away because my mind was drifting elsewhere.

“Mhm, haven’t you heard the legend? Even though she’s a ghost who died for love, she can grant wishes!” Chen Anran’s eyes sparkled. “Let’s make a wish together!”

Could there really be such an understanding ghost? My fear momentarily slipped away, replaced by doubt—maybe this was all just some made-up rumor.

But Chen Anran had already closed her eyes, hands clasped together, making her wish with such focus and sincerity. Of course, I didn’t dare voice my skepticism aloud.

I glanced up at the sky. It was a cloudless, sunny day. The sky was a deep blue, and the sun so bright it made my eyes blur and water after staring for just a few seconds.

A wish, huh…

When Chen Anran asked earlier, I told her my wish was to be best friends with her forever.

But that was just another one of those lines I used to please her—so she wouldn’t leave me behind.

What is my real wish…?

I sneaked a glance at Chen Anran beside me. Her eyes were still closed, and her face was so sincere, almost innocent.

I actually do know.

But my real wish… is impossible.

Then again… what if a ghost really could grant any wish, no matter what it was?

It’s just a thought buried in my heart, right? No harm in that.

I closed my eyes too. Everything went dark, and my heart pounded—not from fear, but… nerves. My palms were sweaty, my tongue dry. Deep in the quietest corner of my heart, I made the wish only I would ever know:

“I wish… I could become someone like Chen Anran.”

If I could become someone like her—so loved, so talented, the perfect kid—then I’d have tons of friends. I wouldn’t be constantly on edge about how she treated me. Teachers would notice me. My parents wouldn’t fight anymore. If I were her, my life… wouldn’t hurt so much.

“Miaoqing, are you done?”

Her sudden voice startled me. I opened my eyes in a panic and saw her watching me curiously. Even though I knew she couldn’t possibly hear the wish I’d just made in my heart, I still felt oddly guilty.

“What did you wish for, Miaoqing?”

“…Just that we could be best friends forever,” I lied without thinking. When I saw how happy that made her, the guilt and shame surged even stronger. I quickly changed the subject. “What about you, Anran? What did you wish for?”

“Ah, well…” To my surprise, the fearless Chen Anran actually blushed a little. She avoided my gaze and leaned against the railing. “…Miaoqing, I’ll only tell you, okay?”

“What is it…?”

“I have a crush on someone.”

…What?

“C…crush?” My voice came out weird and strained.

“Mhm. So I made a wish about the person I like.” She grinned slyly and slowly turned her head back to the sky, spacing out.

Chen Anran… has a crush on someone.

My brain couldn’t process it.

“Then… why don’t you just tell him?” I asked, stumbling over my words, unsure what I was even trying to say. “Everyone likes you—especially the boys… Why would you even need to make a wish like that? If you just told him, I’m sure he’d say yes…”

“You don’t get it,” she replied with a tone far too mature, “because you’ve never… had a crush, right?”

“Mhm…”

Of course not. No one my age even notices me—except her. That’s why I care so much about Chen Anran. That’s why I care so deeply about whether she cares about me the way I care about her. That’s why being with her hurts so much, and why I’m so careful. She knows all that, doesn’t she? So why ask me that? When did she fall for someone? Why didn’t she tell me? No—what’s more important, most important is…

“…” She paused, then continued, “Yeah, I know you haven’t. So to put it simply, I’m just too scared to tell him directly. And I really don’t think he’d like me back, either. So this was the only option—to come make a wish. They say because the ghost died for love, wishes about secret crushes are more likely to come true. That’s what I was thinking!”

My head was spinning. I felt faint. Why did we have to come here today? Why did I have to hear all this? And yet, even now, I instinctively couldn’t ignore her.

“Chen Anran’s crush must be like a prince, huh?” I ended up saying something childish and stupid. Even though I tried to laugh it off, it felt fake. “Because Anran, you’re like… a princess from a fairytale.”

I really think that, Ruxin. I truly do.

You don’t understand, Ruxin. Chen Anran is so… perfect, so blessed, that compared to her I feel filthy, wretched. If I live in the human world, she lives in a fairytale.

Chen Anran laughed, joyfully. Was what I said really that funny? My ears started to ring. I heard her say, “More than a prince, he’s more like a knight? Like, he doesn’t say much, but he always helps when I’m in trouble, always comforts me when I’m sad, always stays by my side. Mmhm, he’s just that kind of great guy!”

Why… Why didn’t she even look at me when she said that? Just stared at the sky, leaning against the railing, daydreaming. I suddenly felt like everything was over. All the pain I’d endured, all the effort I’d made to maintain this uneven friendship—it was all for nothing. Sure, I’m still her best friend for now, but I have no doubt that once she confesses to that boy, he’ll accept her. And once we’re in high school, would she still be this inseparable from me? Would the only time I can breathe still exist then? What will I do?

I have no friends at school, no one wants to hang out with me, and my home is no safe haven either—always suffocating. The only relief I ever get is when Chen Anran comes to find me. The popular, perfect Chen Anran chose to be friends with an invisible nobody like me just because she’s a kind person, and because we grew up as neighbors. That’s all. Her kindness and friendship are nothing more than a condescending charity… the cheapest kind.

And yet, even so—she’s all I have. My only lifeline. My only friend.

Her life is a fairytale. She’s the princess. And I’m just a little mouse saved by the kind princess.

I’ve always known—our friendship is unbalanced. Being with her hurts so much because I’m just… not enough. But that’s okay.

As long as she’s still my friend, it’s all okay.

Slowly, I asked, “I’ve never had a crush, so I don’t know… What does it feel like, liking someone? Is it like… no one else matters but them?”

“What kind of question is that?” she replied. “…But honestly? Sometimes… yeah. It really does feel that way.”

Ah.

It’s all over.

Why? Why? I really don’t understand. Just so I could stay friends with her forever—even though I was so jealous of her it nearly killed me—I never once hated her. I admired Chen Anran, was grateful to her, wanted to be her best friend for life. For the sake of our friendship, I endured the doubled pain caused by my own shameful weakness. I gave her everything I had: I tried my best to please her, remembered her birthday, paid attention to what she liked, her talents, her moods. Every single moment, I worked tirelessly for her, for the tiny bit of time we could spend together. I gave so, so much, and yet to her, I was still just an ordinary friend she could toss away. Everything I endured, everything I gave—it was all meaningless. She never noticed, never cared… never, not once…

But, none of that should matter, right?

As long as Chen Anran is still my friend, none of that should matter.

As long as she’s still my friend, none of that should matter, right???

“Miaoqing, let’s go ba—” Chen Anran turned around—and I had already reached out with both hands.

All I could hear was my own scream.

It wasn’t a sound a human could make.

It wasn’t strength a human could have.

I heard myself screaming:

“Don’t leave me all alone!!!”

Chen Anran fell like a broken flower, weightless, fluttering down.

She hit the dark green water.

Her arms flailed as she struggled. She cried for help: “Help me! Miaoqing! Something’s grabbing me!”

That deep green water, her white dress, her black hair. My vocal cords were still aching. My hands remained in the posture of having pushed someone. My mind was in chaos, scrambling through thoughts: Is it still possible to start helping her now? Is there time?

Even if there is time—if I pull her back up—she’ll tell her parents I pushed her, and she’ll tell mine too. Maybe she’ll tell the police. When that happens, my parents will fight even worse than they already do. I won’t just be ignored by everyone—I’ll be hated by everyone… No, that’s not even the most important part.

The most important part is: even if I save her, the fact that she has someone she likes won’t change. I’ll still end up abandoned. Even in the best-case scenario—if Chen Anran stops liking that guy—after what I’ve done, she’ll never be friends with me again.

So, saving her = being left alone. Not saving her = being left alone. Whether she dies or not, whether I pull her out or not—the result is the same.

No—there’s still one more thing I hadn’t considered.

This terrifying thing, this horrifying thought—there’s no way it came from me. No way I did this.

I’ve always been the most cowardly one.

And right now, I finally understand: Ghosts exist.

Even though I didn’t see one, the ghost is real. The ghost controlled my body. The ghost pushed Chen Anran.

And if that’s true, then the ghost can grant my wish too, right?

I can become someone like Chen Anran, right?

If I become like her, I’ll never be abandoned again.

Suddenly, fear surged through me. The ghost’s power was far too strong. I grabbed onto the railing and looked down—Chen Anran was still struggling, still crying out desperately, still calling my name. I couldn’t even tell from her voice if she was angry at me. But it was the ghost who pushed her, right? If I saved her, wouldn’t the ghost be angry?

“Help, cough… help me…”

I took a step back. Then another.

I turned around, climbed down the ladder, and ran toward the back hill without saying a word. I had to run—only running could suppress the fear inside me. The ghost really was real. Because I could never have done something like that. But… if I said a ghost killed someone, no one would believe me. What am I supposed to do?

Thinking like that, before I knew it, I had run past the hill. I tilted my head to listen—there was no sound of Chen Anran’s cries anymore.

—

Author’s Note:

Next chapter returns to An Ruxin’s perspective.