News

“Ruxin?”

Bai Miaoqing had somehow silently emerged from the bedroom and was now standing at the door. She suddenly called out.

An Ruxin instinctively stuffed the stack of photos into her handbag, stood up, and said as if nothing had happened, “See, it’s fine now… that… thing, it’s already gone.”

Bai Miaoqing seemed to stop trembling as well. She clutched tightly at the large bag she had just packed, speaking softly, “But… I’m still scared… I don’t want to stay here anymore… Ruxin, can I…”

“Why don’t you stay at a hotel tonight?” An Ruxin suggested.

Bai Miaoqing froze, then slowly nodded. “Uh, okay… I’ll listen to you…”

“Don’t be afraid anymore. Maybe it was just a hallucination.”

“If it were just a hallucination, how could you have seen her too?” Bai Miaoqing gave a bitter smile. “…Ruxin, could you come to the hotel with me tomorrow? This whole thing is too weird. I’m really scared to be alone…”

“…Okay.” In the end, An Ruxin couldn’t bear to refuse.

She helped Bai Miaoqing carry her bags, hailed a cab, and took her to an affordable nearby hotel. After helping her check in and unpack, she watched Bai Miaoqing sit distractedly at the edge of the bed. An Ruxin pursed her lips and decided to say goodbye, reminding her to get a good rest and wishing her sweet dreams.

Then, An Ruxin went home.

So much time had passed that it was already completely dark. After a full day of work and a slew of unexpected events afterward, even someone made of iron would be exhausted. An Ruxin was completely drained. She took a shower, collapsed onto the bed, and didn’t even want to move a finger. Staring blankly at the ceiling, only her thoughts drifted aimlessly.

Why was she doing so much for Bai Miaoqing? An Ruxin couldn’t figure it out.

Hadn’t it been years since they last saw each other?

…But still, when she thought of her past self, she remembered liking her. Liking her very much.

Only now did An Ruxin realize—this secret crush had never really faded. Mixed with nostalgia for her youth, complicated by time and circumstance, it had been endlessly idealized in her memory. It became the only extraordinary thing in her otherwise ordinary life, taking root so deeply it could never be removed.

“So tired…” An Ruxin murmured.

…Maybe I should do something.

Rolling over in bed, she grabbed her phone, hesitated a moment, then—almost involuntarily—opened her browser and typed in a name:

Chen Anran

The results were all over the place. An Ruxin frowned, recalling how Bai Miaoqing had said, “She died when she was only 15,” and “We were middle school classmates.” She calculated the age and adjusted the search time filters accordingly. This time, the very first result caught her attention.

It was a local news story:

“Teen Girl Disappears After High School Entrance Exams, Parents Devastated and Begging for Her Return”

An Ruxin’s heart trembled. Without hesitation, she clicked into the page. At the top of the article was a photo of a beautiful young girl. Her hair was slightly wavy, with light hair and eye color, and her petite figure gave her the look of a mixed-race porcelain doll.

Yes, she was the same girl in the missing person photo—the same woman An Ruxin had seen outside Bai Miaoqing’s house.

Her eyes moved past the photo and naturally dropped down to read the article.

> **…Chen Anran, a third-year student at Yucai Middle School, was the pride of her parents and teachers, and well-liked by her peers.

According to reporters, she studied diligently and was cheerful and lively. Her entrance exam scores qualified her for a prestigious local four-star high school.

Chen Anran was known for her optimism and never seemed to have any troubles.

Yet, right after finishing her exams, this model student mysteriously disappeared.

Her parents recalled that they had both been busy with work that day. They left her home alone in the morning, and she’d seemed in a good mood. But when they returned before dinner, their daughter was gone.

They searched the neighborhood and called her friends, but found nothing. In desperation, they contacted the police and filed a missing persons report. Surveillance footage showed that shortly after her parents left, she left home alone. The last recorded footage showed her leaving a convenience store across the street from her residential complex.

Her father insisted: “She’s always been obedient. She’s only 15, her life was simple. There’s no way she ran away from home—something must have happened.”

The police launched an investigation and have not ruled out the possibility of foul play.

Anran was the couple’s only child—their pride and joy. When reporters visited, her mother broke down in tears, crying out her daughter’s childhood nickname and begging the public for any leads.

By the time of reporting, Chen Anran’s classmates at Liuxiang Middle School had already started a fundraising effort to help the family—but no amount of money could ease their pain.

Chen Anran, where are you? The people who love you are waiting for you to come home.

…

After reading the article, An Ruxin felt a heaviness settle in her heart.

Back when it all happened, she, Bai Miaoqing, and Chen Anran had all been just fifteen. Time had flown since then. She and Bai Miaoqing had started their adult lives, but for Chen Anran’s parents, their daughter would forever remain frozen at fifteen.

How could anyone not be heartbroken by such a thing?

An Ruxin let out a long sigh, wondering if Chen Anran’s parents were still waiting in vain…

How wonderful it would be if the woman she saw outside Bai Miaoqing’s house really was a grown-up Chen Anran. She looked so much like her younger self—so pretty. If she could return home, her parents would be overjoyed… But miracles like that don’t happen. If that woman really were Chen Anran, she would’ve gone home. Why would she look for Bai Miaoqing instead? Besides, Bai Miaoqing had clearly said—Chen Anran died when she was fifteen.

…Wait a second.

“No… something’s not right.”

Goosebumps prickled across An Ruxin’s back. Her mind chilled with a sharp ache. She quickly browsed more follow-up reports and finally spotted the inconsistency:

…The news only said that Chen Anran had gone missing. Her parents never knew what really happened to her…

So why had Bai Miaoqing blurted out—so confidently—that “Chen Anran died at fifteen”?

What exactly was her relationship with Chen Anran?

And if what she saw really was Chen Anran’s ghost… why had she gone to Bai Miaoqing?

Was there something Bai Miaoqing was hiding? Something terrifying?

A flood of questions filled An Ruxin’s mind. She curled up under the covers, biting her thumb in frustration. Her mind, exhausted by the growing tangle of thoughts, eventually shut down. She drifted off, restless and confused.

——

An Ruxin seemed to fall into a dream.

She dreamed of a high school classroom… doodling in her notebook, secretly writing Bai Miaoqing’s name in the margins and then scribbling it out, her fingers twisting a lock of her ponytail.

It was evening self-study. A cool breeze slipped through the cracks in the window, soothing the heat of summer. In the distance, she could faintly hear music students in another classroom doing vocal warm-ups.

An Ruxin looked up. Bai Miaoqing was sitting several rows in front of her, back perfectly straight, like a tree in bloom. Her hair was tied into a single ponytail that fell down her back, the ends curling playfully.

An Ruxin was secretly watching her again—just like always. It felt as if, by looking long enough, she could imprint that back view into her eyes, into her heart, turn it into an eternal idol, silently harboring a secret love. Bai Miaoqing would never know how deeply An Ruxin liked her, admired her…

She would never know that An Ruxin was watching her.

But in the dream, Bai Miaoqing suddenly, slowly turned around.

Her face turned toward An Ruxin.

There were no features on her face.

A blank sheet of flesh had replaced her face.

And it was facing An Ruxin.