Dilemma

A classroom… submerged in the dark green water…

Floating hair… the back of a girl…

She turned around. It was Chen Anran’s face. She smiled at An Ruxin—a sweet, gentle smile.

And for the first time, An Ruxin didn’t hear her through a recording. She truly heard Chen Anran’s voice: “You’ve missed me all this time, haven’t you?”

“W-What…”

“I’ve missed you too…”

“……”

“I’m already dead, so even though we miss each other, we can never be together…” Her smile was beautiful, and she floated in the water like a blooming water lily. “My death—it was all Miaoqing’s fault, and you already know that… My death wasn’t caused by a ghost. It was Bai Miaoqing. You know it all…”

Ah… even within the dream, An Ruxin felt a trace of absurdity.

Chen Anran, as a ghost, insisted no ghost was involved in her death.

Yet Bai Miaoqing, as a human, firmly believed a ghost had killed Chen Anran.

What a… stark contradiction…

“…When you said you liked me, you never once called me by my real name,” her arms floated near, mimicking the slowed struggle of a drowning body—gentle, graceful, but eerily chilling. “The one you loved was me, Chen Anran, wasn’t it? So… help me…”

Help you… with what?

“Help me…”

In the chaos of the dream, An Ruxin seemed to hear the voice of her own heart…

The one I loved the most… the one I’d always, always secretly loved…

…

In the dream, Chen Anran floated in the filthy green water. She and An Ruxin were together in a silence that spanned life and death, dream and reality. Chen Anran had been dead for years, but her presence continued to stir deep contradictions, leaving An Ruxin conflicted in her heart. She might have been a pitiful victim, the saintly figure in An Ruxin’s one-sided tragic love. Or perhaps a cruel avenger, who destroyed Bai Miaoqing’s entire life and ended An Ruxin’s youthful fantasy with a harsh rejection.

No matter what, when An Ruxin looked at the drifting hem of that white dress, she could still see the soul of the girl who had drawn all her love, shining faintly.

What… is love, really?

By this point, she had no choice but to admit it. An Ruxin suddenly thought.

In this twisted past, she would never find the answer.

The person she loved the most, the one who lit up her heart, the symbol of her most beautiful youth—the girl she had always secretly longed for—wasn’t Bai Miaoqing, nor Chen Anran. Or rather, not entirely either of them. Maybe an objective god could judge and give a clear answer. But An Ruxin was merely a witness to the past, to her own feelings, bound by her subjective view. She could never determine who that girl really was. Or rather, she could never determine what proportion of that girl belonged to which one.

But that wasn’t the standard by which she measured love—not her kind of love. An Ruxin had always loved a whole person, never once tried to divide her feelings.

But now, An Ruxin couldn’t tell anymore:

Was that girl both Bai Miaoqing and Chen Anran at once? Or was she neither?

An Ruxin was driven by love. She had never understood it so clearly. And yet, she could not tell where her love was pointed.

“Help me…”

The dream-Chen Anran leaned close, cold arms wrapping around An Ruxin’s shoulders.

They embraced, there at the bottom of the deep green water.

An Ruxin suddenly didn’t see her as a vengeful spirit. Her body was still so small, curled up in An Ruxin’s arms, lips pale and bluish, bubbling slightly as they moved.

She’d died at only fifteen, full of adolescent sensitivity, little-girl secrets, a future brimming with possibilities—but now she was gone.

A strange thought suddenly arose in An Ruxin’s mind: What if, back in high school, Chen Anran possessing Bai Miaoqing wasn’t just about revenge?

Chen Anran had lived most of Bai Miaoqing’s high school life in her place, through her body.

She’d never gotten the chance to live that kind of life herself.

“Help me…” Chen Anran whispered, the water currents brushing An Ruxin’s cheeks like a soft spring breeze.

In the dream, Chen Anran said: “You have the evidence.”

An Ruxin woke up.

—

Lying in bed after waking, An Ruxin stared blankly.

Evidence…? What did she mean?

No, there’s no need to overthink it. Chen Anran must’ve meant that An Ruxin had evidence proving no ghost was involved in her death. Which means what she wanted help with was…

Getting Bai Miaoqing to realize it wasn’t a ghost, but she herself who had caused Chen Anran’s death.

Had that always been Chen Anran’s purpose?

An Ruxin’s thoughts slowly branched off.

From her perspective, something had to be done—this couldn’t go on. If it did, Chen Anran would keep haunting Bai Miaoqing, and Bai Miaoqing… assuming she wasn’t lying about being in love with her (and An Ruxin didn’t think she was—the repeated emotional breakdowns were too raw to fake), then clearly, Bai Miaoqing now saw An Ruxin as the final life-saving straw in her tragic life, and wouldn’t easily let go. And An Ruxin’s feelings for both Bai Miaoqing and Chen Anran remained vague and tangled, her heart still alight with love. Imagining herself vanishing completely without a word to either of them… she couldn’t do it. Unless…

An Ruxin didn’t finish the thought.

Letting things continue would mean she’d be endlessly entangled with the living Bai Miaoqing, and Chen Anran wouldn’t disappear either. This vengeful spirit could amplify negative emotions. An Ruxin wasn’t optimistic about either her own or Bai Miaoqing’s mental state. If this went on, it could only end in tragedy.

If there was a way to resolve this, only two paths remained…

One: Let Chen Anran have her revenge on Bai Miaoqing. That might even mean letting Bai Miaoqing die. But An Ruxin couldn’t separate Bai Miaoqing from the person she’d loved. No matter what, she couldn’t let that happen. Absolutely not.

Two: Find a way to prove no ghost was involved in Chen Anran’s death. That’s what Chen Anran asked for in the dream.

In a way, these two paths led to the same place.

Proving that a ghost didn’t kill Chen Anran would force Bai Miaoqing to face the cruel truth—that she killed her only friend, destroyed her own life. That would be a form of brutal revenge in itself…

But there was still room for a softer outcome. With An Ruxin involved, maybe Bai Miaoqing wouldn’t have a complete breakdown upon discovering the truth.

And rationally speaking, this path seemed more aligned with justice and public morality…

The key problem was—An Ruxin didn’t have any evidence.

She’d only been able to maintain that “maybe there was no ghost” stance because of her uncertain feelings—her neutral, rational mindset as someone unable to decide who she loved. She raised many doubts and possibilities. She was like one of those armchair detectives, relying solely on logic and thought to reconstruct the truth. Even she felt it all made perfect sense—except for one thing: she had no proof whatsoever.

Meanwhile, Bai Miaoqing clung to a position that couldn’t be logically disproved: It was all the ghost’s fault.

An Ruxin was going mad.

If the one she loved was Bai Miaoqing, then it wouldn’t matter whether Chen Anran’s death was tragic or unjust—cold as that may sound. An Ruxin simply wouldn’t care. She wouldn’t even think of proving the ghost didn’t exist. She wouldn’t risk the slightest chance of Bai Miaoqing breaking down. Maybe she’d run away with her, hoping the two of them could find happiness in some hidden corner of the world.

If the person she loved was Chen Anran, then An Ruxin wouldn’t have to be so troubled. Chen Anran wanted to take revenge on Bai Miaoqing—she didn’t need something like evidence. If it was already certain there were no ghosts, and it was certain Bai Miaoqing had hurt Chen Anran… and yet Bai Miaoqing still dared to impersonate the girl An Ruxin had loved most in her heart… then just kill Bai Miaoqing.

As long as Bai Miaoqing was killed, wouldn’t Chen Anran find peace?

It was all because she couldn’t tell them apart…

Now, it seemed the only path left for An Ruxin… was to find that piece of evidence.

After going in circles, she was back to where she started.

An Ruxin began to recall all the information she had gathered—what she had in hand, and what she didn’t…

What exactly could prove that the one who pushed Chen Anran into the water on the day she died… was Bai Miaoqing?

In other words, what exactly could prove that the reservoir ghost, the lovestruck spirit who could grant wishes, had never existed?

…

…

An Ruxin suddenly seemed to remember something.

She thought of the most crucial “key” that would lead to the confirmation of the truth.

Author’s Note

This is a transition chapter. The full reveal is coming next.

You’re also welcome to choose your own key piece of evidence (×). If you’re unsure, you can try going back to the beginning and guess (just kidding… or not).

It’s actually pretty easy to guess.

A. The destroyed photo of Bai Miaoqing from high school

B. The photo of Bai Miaoqing and Chen Anran together, seen only once and then burned

C. The message on Liuxiang Middle School’s forum confessing the ghost story about the reservoir was fabricated

D. The digital camera and recordings in Chen Anran’s bedroom

E. Chen Anran’s diary

F. The newspaper clipping about a male classmate of Chen Anran’s drowning in Bai Miaoqing’s house

G. The photo of the reservoir that Chen Anran gave to Bai Miaoqing back then