Reservoir 2

“Before Chen Anran died, during the exploration, she already told you about that matter. You just didn’t realize it.”

“……”

“Nothing to say, Miaoqing?”

“…I think I get what you mean now, Ruxin.” Bai Miaoqing turned her head slightly, revealing a smile—or rather, a sarcastic sneer, like some deep form of self-mockery. “You’re trying to say that the reason Chen Anran asked me to come to the reservoir with her that day was to tell me she had a crush on someone… That she wasn’t planning to hide it from me, because she considered me her most important friend, or something like that, right?”

An Ruxin opened her mouth to speak, but before she could, Bai Miaoqing’s calm demeanor—which had persisted all day—finally erupted. Endless, chaotic words spilled from her lips:

“…You’re trying to prove that she, Chen Anran, really saw me as a friend? And you think that changes anything? You think I didn’t know? You think I didn’t know about this?! You think I’m going to start crying and fall to my knees and apologize—‘I’m sorry, Chen Anran, I didn’t think of a way to save you in time, I was too scared, I ran away, I’m sorry I lied to the police’—you think I’d actually do that?! You don’t understand, An Ruxin, you just don’t—of course I knew Chen Anran saw me as a friend!! But in my heart, how jealous I was of her—of how perfect she was, how lucky she was, how everyone loved her, how happy she seemed, even you… Even you liked her. I could tell—these things, all of it! And because I knew she wasn’t a bad person, because I knew she genuinely saw me as a friend, that only made my self-loathing worse. My hatred for myself—what about all that pain?! You don’t get it… And the worst part is, she had someone she liked. She admitted it herself. She said there were times when nothing else in the world mattered to her except that person… We were about to graduate, about to meet new classmates, she was going to make new friends—how long could a life like that, being with her, really last? And she just said that to my face…!! If she really meant to tell me that that day, it’s even more pathetic! Because she didn’t know or care at all what I was thinking… When she said, ‘Yes, sometimes I really do feel like no one else in the world matters besides that person,’ do you know how much it hurt? She didn’t care at all—at all!! That’s why the ghost found a way in, why it possessed me, controlled me, why the ghost killed her! I told you everything—so now, after everything, why are we still talking about this?! Are you trying to make me cry and beg for forgiveness? Impossible! No way!! Chen Anran stole my entire life! That’s a fact! It was the ghost who killed her—that’s a fact! You don’t have any proof that the ghost doesn’t exist—

The ghost is real!!”

Over and over, she shouted, screamed, her voice echoing around the dead-silent reservoir, as if it would tear her chest open.

In Bai Miaoqing’s memory, she had never said so many words at once. She had always been shy, timid, living in the glow of Chen Anran, alone, relying on An Ruxin… She had never, ever let all of her true feelings spill out like this. All those dark emotions had finally found their way into words.

It felt unreal. Bai Miaoqing thought hazily: even with the turmoil in her heart, this level of rage… the deep green surface of the reservoir remained perfectly still, and after all the screaming, the silence around them still didn’t break.

Only her own emotions felt a little more at ease.

Maybe this reservoir, because of the ghost’s presence, had some innate power to make people spill their secrets without realizing it.

An Ruxin stood quietly in front of her. Bai Miaoqing looked at her—the person she liked the most. Bai Miaoqing loved her so much. Compared to high school, An Ruxin hadn’t changed much: an expressionless face, pale and clean, long dark hair hanging down to her shoulders. That was probably most people’s first impression of her. Unlike Chen Anran, who had a bit of a natural wave in her hair that made her look unique, like a doll—bright eyes and startlingly pretty features that made everyone remember her. No, they were different. An Ruxin had a forgettable face, rarely changed her expression, always looked like she was lost in thought, not tall, not short, not fat, not thin—she could vanish in a crowd. But if you stared at her long enough, you’d start to realize: she was delicate, with a quiet sort of charm that was hard to explain—why did she go unnoticed? Only Bai Miaoqing knew she was the gentlest person… the one she liked most of all…

At that moment, An Ruxin was looking at her with her usual in-between expression—between serenity and drifting away—facing Bai Miaoqing, who was still gasping for air.

As if Bai Miaoqing’s whole outburst still hadn’t disturbed her calm in the slightest.

Bai Miaoqing suddenly seemed to catch on to a flaw, and immediately said, “…Anyway, you don’t—don’t have any proof the ghost doesn’t exist… Besides, based on your theory, the thing Chen Anran wanted to tell me that day must’ve been written on that note! So—so it’s impossible that she was just going to tell me she had a crush… There must’ve been something else. In any case… she didn’t get the chance to say it—

Because the note only mentioned the meeting place!”

And to An Ruxin, what did this conversation even mean?

After her unexpected breakdown, Bai Miaoqing looked almost as if she’d been shocked deeply—her chest rose and fell wildly, her eyes darted nervously toward An Ruxin’s face. An Ruxin wasn’t frightened. For a moment, she was more worried Bai Miaoqing might get too worked up and fall into the reservoir and drown. Instead, she fell into her own endless spiral of thoughts again:

Stereotypes—how we see ourselves, how we see others—how far can they go in twisting a person’s entire mind?

Thinking about how one part of the girl she had always secretly liked was Bai Miaoqing, An Ruxin couldn’t help feeling heartache and sadness… And precisely because of that, she couldn’t possibly be angry at Bai Miaoqing’s unstable behavior.

As long as she remembered that a part of Bai Miaoqing was loved by her, An Ruxin couldn’t be angry with her.

Even though Bai Miaoqing had said “Ruxin, you don’t understand my feelings at all,” how much did Bai Miaoqing really know about An Ruxin’s feelings? Her love, her thoughts, her inner brokenness, her struggles, her obsessive passion—did she understand any of that?

To the Bai Miaoqing who claimed to have always loved her, what kind of person was An Ruxin, really?

“…There must’ve been something else. In any case… she didn’t get the chance to say it, because the note only had the meeting place written on it!” Bai Miaoqing’s rant finally came to a close, her chest still heaving, her eyes filled with what seemed like hatred.

An Ruxin came back to herself, and after giving her a moment to calm down, she finally spoke, slowly, bringing this nightmare’s final chapter to its conclusion:

“I’ve already found the evidence.”

“What…?”

“I’ve already found proof that it wasn’t a ghost who killed Chen Anran,” said An Ruxin.

“No way… you weren’t even there… Ruxin…”

An Ruxin shifted the topic: “Mm. This morning, after thinking about it again, I ended up on the same page as you. I believed the thing Chen Anran wanted to tell you was that she had a crush. But the phrase ‘It’s fine, I tell her tomorrow’ really did suggest that what she wanted to say was written on the note—and the note only had the meeting place… So I kept thinking over and over what I could’ve misunderstood. And finally, I realized—it wasn’t that I was wrong—

It’s that I misunderstood the note.”

She pulled Chen Anran’s diary from her bag and quickly flipped to the final page: “Let’s take one more look at what we actually have, okay?”

Last Page

On the final page, Chen Anran’s childish yet neat handwriting was displayed, beneath which the rough, jarring tear of an old, yellowed slip of paper stood out:

『So annoying. I forgot to give the little note to Bai Miaoqing.

Forget it, I’ll tell her next time we meet… it’s the same anyway…』

—Trace of a cut-and-paste, slip of paper—

『5』 (written large, in pink ink)

『Do you remember what you promised me?

Let’s go bring some joy to that haunted reservoir!

It’ll definitely be a day full of fun ☆

Meeting spot is set—behind the school on the back hill.

We agreed—absolutely no telling the adults.

You have to show up, okay!』

“Is there… something wrong?” Bai Miaoqing asked, a little confused.

“Just doubts. So many doubts,” An Ruxin said quietly. “Why isn’t there a single mention of a crush in her diary? Why didn’t she write what she told you on the slip of paper? Why did Chen Anran treat that day with such ceremony? Why didn’t the ever-popular Chen Anran just confess directly? Why did she write ‘I’ll tell her tomorrow—it’s the same,’ but then come to your door that very day to set the time and place? And if she had already arranged to meet you, why didn’t she go back home and update her diary—add something? If all she wanted was to tell you the meeting time and place, then after she’d already knocked on your door and told you, that line—‘I’ll tell her tomorrow, it’s the same’—would’ve been meaningless. And then, why is there a number 5 on the note?”

“And then I suddenly realized,” An Ruxin’s voice began to shift, “one huge, glaring inconsistency. In fact, I’m honestly shocked I never noticed it until now…”

Bai Miaoqing’s expression could only be described as fearful. She was trembling, as though bracing for something terrible that was about to arrive—

The truth. The truth Bai Miaoqing had never dared to face.

“Miaoqing, you said the day before the reservoir incident, Chen Anran came to your house, knocked on your door, met with you, and set the time and place for the next day, right?”

“Is… is something wrong with that?” Bai Miaoqing’s eyes widened.

“There’s nothing wrong exactly,” An Ruxin looked down at the slip in her hand, “but it made me realize the loophole—look at this note again. Really look. Do you see it now? It’s obvious… Alright, I’ll just say it outright:

There’s no meeting time written on the note.”

Bai Miaoqing gasped involuntarily.

Yes. The loophole was that obvious… yet An Ruxin had only caught it this morning. And the moment she saw it, it all seemed unreal—because…

“You get what I’m saying, right, Miaoqing? The note only says, ‘Meeting spot is the back hill behind the school.’ On the surface, the only information it gives is to invite you on the reservoir adventure. But once you realize there’s no meeting time, the whole thing becomes impossible. Without a time, there’s no way Chen Anran could’ve used this note to arrange a meeting,” An Ruxin continued. “Of course, I’d already wondered before—your exams were over, you weren’t at school anymore, so how was she even supposed to pass you a note? Why use a note at all? And if she forgot to give it to you, why did she bother keeping it?”

“It’s actually simple. Because you’re neighbors, she probably planned to knock on your door, hand you the note, and verbally confirm the meeting time and place. But for some reason, when she knocked on your door, she forgot to bring it. And if she had to turn around mid-sentence to fetch it, that would’ve looked really weird. Plus, you two were trying to keep it secret from the adults, right? She probably didn’t want to be seen knocking on your door twice in one night. So, she told you the time and place, then went home and wrote in her diary, ‘Forgot to give the little note to Bai Miaoqing,’ and taped the forgotten note inside—yes, I believe she came to your door first, then wrote the diary. Not the other way around.”

Bai Miaoqing stared at her, stunned. Her voice faltered, perhaps from shock: “Ah… you’re right… that does make sense… But why is this evidence… why?”

An Ruxin didn’t answer immediately.

Because in that moment—she saw Chen Anran.

Chen Anran stood behind Bai Miaoqing, her body soaking wet, face pale as porcelain. Water dripped from her fingers, her hair, the hem of her dress. Her eyes were beautiful. She was beautiful. Her arms looked like they were carved from ice or wax, nearly the same white as her dress—except that dress was stained with filthy green smudges.

“Tell her,” Chen Anran’s lips moved, and An Ruxin’s eyes followed the faint trail of bubbles that drifted up from her cold mouth—impossible bubbles, on land, floating toward the brilliant blue sky like puffs of breath in winter.

The sight was like a spiderweb, snaring An Ruxin’s heart. And when she turned her gaze back to Bai Miaoqing—what a face it was. Terror. Urgency. Agony. Dread. And sorrow.

So yes, An Ruxin understood.

She understood that at this moment, both Bai Miaoqing and Chen Anran were waiting—for the truth.

Everyone was waiting for the truth.

“…So, I think,” An Ruxin began again, “why didn’t Chen Anran write the meeting time on the note? Because she was too careless? That’s not possible. You know she was smart. Was there no room? Also not likely. She wrote six lines. If she remembered to write the meeting place, why forget the time? Unless…”

An Ruxin said, “Unless this note was never meant to confirm the meeting time or place at all.”

—

Author’s Note

Contents of the note:

『5』 (written large, in pink ink)

『Do you remember what you promised me?

Let’s go bring some joy to that haunted reservoir!

It’ll definitely be a day full of fun ☆

Meeting spot is set—behind the school on the back hill.

We agreed—absolutely no telling the adults.

You have to show up, okay!』