Chapter Ten

  It is said that this river outside the town has claimed many lives.

  Recently, a son of an old widow in our town was killed. The old widow is from the mountains, her son yearned for the prosperity outside the mountains when he was young, so he came to our town to work as a coal ash carrier, after less than two years, he was arrested and sentenced to death for intentional homicide, and was shot dead at the age of 25.

  Thirteen years later, a wise and powerful policeman from the town police station caught a robbery suspect. The robber had robbed the girl that this policeman was pursuing, which made the powerful policeman particularly intolerant. The case was handled cleanly and efficiently, not only confirming the robber's crime, but also discovering that he had committed murder thirteen years ago. From then on, the son of the old widow who was shot in her heyday finally cleared his name.

  The old widow, upon hearing the thrilling news, rushed overnight from afar and placed a couplet of firecrackers and incense sticks on her son's grave. The city even sent reporters to interview the old widow and bought her a silk banner, which she was asked to present to the police who cracked the case. The next day, it was published as a headline in the newspaper: "The Party's Good Son Zhang xx Bravely Captures Thieves, 70-year-old Old Lady Presents Silk Banner".

  The townspeople were delighted to see the name of their small town, which had been unknown for many years, appear in the city's daily newspaper. Just as everyone was reading the paper with great interest, a 70-year-old woman jumped into the river that afternoon. Despite the crowd rushing to rescue her immediately after witnessing it, the old lady succeeded in taking her own life.

  This afternoon when I was burning paper money by the river, through the murky river water, I seemed to see an old lady in the water.

  At that time, the sky was blue when I looked up, and the dead water had a slight ripple when I looked down. Within a radius of ten miles, there were no signs of human life, which was just right for creating an atmosphere for jumping into the river to commit suicide. I thought it didn't matter whether I left early or late, as either way, I would still be leaving. Jumping into this river also meant that I would have some seniors accompanying me, and if I were lucky, I might even drift to a distant place, which would also save my family the cost of a coffin. So, I was tempted to take the leap. Just when I was about to close my eyes and jump in, it seemed like I heard a voice saying: "Miss, are you hungry? If your stomach is empty, don't come jumping into the water, or else you'll be starving even after you're dead, and being starved for eternity would be too unbearable."

  I was startled and felt that my stomach was indeed a little hungry.

  Many years later, I thought that if there hadn't been that voice dissuading me at the time, I would have definitely jumped down.

  I have armed myself with Marxist philosophy and scored 91 points in politics during the postgraduate entrance examination. To this day, I still firmly believe that the voice belongs to the old widow who jumped into the river that year. The reason why the old widow wanted to save me was because my mother had paid out of her own pocket to help her buy a coffin and bury her, without letting her expose her body in the wilderness for thousands of miles. It can be seen that people do things and heaven watches.

  But I made up my mind to commit suicide and thought that only by committing suicide could I live a better life.

  After eating a full meal at home and doing some preparatory work, I took out the shiny knife blade I bought this afternoon amidst my grandmother's persistent coughing.

  I had been searching for the radial artery for half a day, and just as I finally found it and the blade was about to go in, three-year-old Yan Lang stumbled in. As soon as he saw the sharp object in my hand and the wrist that had already started bleeding, he burst into loud wails. His grandmother, who had been coughing in the next room, finally managed to stop and asked, "Why is Lang Lang crying?"

  I said: "Nothing, nothing, he wet his pants."

  Grandma didn't speak again, and there was another fit of urgent coughing.

  I hugged Yang Lang and kissed him, saying: "Good boy, you go out and play for a while."

  Yan Lang didn't move.

  I was so busy with school and puppy love during my three years of high school that I didn't spend much time with Yan Lang, and I didn't realize he had grown up to be so clever.

  He whispered with a sob: "Mom, are you going to die soon?"

  I said: "No, I just had a fever these two days, and let out some blood."

  "He said: 'You're being cheated. There's a show on TV about this, you're going to die soon.'"

  I feel a lump in my throat and say: "What if mom really dies?"

  He immediately said: "Don't you want to read aloud anymore?"

  I said: "You see, grandma is in prison, and old grandma has such a serious illness. Mom can't go to college, nor does she have any other skills, so I'm the only one who can support you."

  He said: "I eat just a little bit of food every day."

  I said: "You only eat a little bit, it's useless. The old grandma wants to eat, mom wants to eat, one day they will finish all the rice."

  He said: "Then I won't eat a single bit of it, all for grandma and mom."

  "I said: 'Foolish child, if you don't eat, you'll starve to death.'"

  He was persuaded by me, couldn't think of a more powerful argument to refute, had to change the subject, with tears welling up in his eyes, and said anxiously: "But mom is dead, what will Langlang do?"

  And I finally couldn't help but shed tears, and I said: "Mom feels unwell and can't hold on. After Mom dies, Auntie will come to take you to a place with many children, where there is food every day and fun toys to play with."

  He rushed into my arms and said, "Mom, then take Lang Lang away too. I know the place you're talking about is an orphanage, Grandma used to say that if Lang Lang doesn't behave, she'll send him to the orphanage. The kids in the orphanage are the most bullying, Mom's not there, Lang Lang will definitely be bullied to death." After finishing speaking, he burst into tears.

  My last memory of that night was my grandmother leaning against the door frame, her deeply sunken eyes filled with tears. I and Yan Lang were tightly embracing each other, crying uncontrollably. The scent of osmanthus wafted in through the window, carrying a faint smell of blood. And on that summer day when I was eighteen, the air was thick with the scent of blooming flowers, but I could always detect a faint smell of blood, even though I never attempted to take my own life again.

  Life is like a long run, as long as you can get through that most painful critical point, without downloading any data package, human physical ability will automatically upgrade. After suicide, my physical ability did not upgrade, I couldn't become immortal like Li Xizhi, but my fate has indeed leveled up, no longer as unlucky as before.

  In late August, I surprisingly received an admission letter from F University.

  F University is a third-rate university rooted in the border of the motherland, which is on the verge of bankruptcy due to its remote location. It's only suitable for rich people who can't get into college. I had already planned to give up, but the next day, an entrepreneur from the countryside came to me and hoped to sponsor my university education, on the condition that I must assist them in filming a documentary with me and their factory as the main characters, and in this documentary, try every means to subtly portray their factory as a socially responsible enterprise.

  I originally wanted them to use the money they sponsored me for studying to sponsor my grandmother's medical treatment, but the entrepreneur thought that sponsoring my grandmother's medical treatment couldn't show their company's concern for China's education sector, and also couldn't show their company's sense of responsibility. Moreover, caring for lonely elderly people is no longer popular, now it's popular to sponsor poor university students.

  I haggled with him for an entire afternoon, and then he slapped his forehead: "You little girl are really hard to talk to, forget it, I'll just do a good deed and help your grandmother get treated for her illness too. But you have to become our company's long-term spokesperson and film a special topic every year. Ah, you're also lucky, if I hadn't gone on a business trip recently and had all the poor university students around me sponsored by my competitors, would you have been able to take such a big advantage of me?"

  I said: "Yes, yes, I'm lucky, I'm lucky."

  I really think I'm very lucky.

  Before entering university, I made a small summary of my life for the past 18 years. I feel that life is too mysterious and that all the sourness, sweetness, bitterness, and spiciness are indispensable. The only thing that makes me regretful is that when I was happy, I didn't indulge in happiness enough, and it wasn't until I encountered misfortune that I looked back on this period of time and felt like I had suffered a great loss.

  Happiness is not like a woman's menstrual cycle, which comes on time every month. If you don't do well this time, you can still adjust next time. It's more like a boat ticket, once it expires, it can't be used again. So I made a decision that from now on, I will never let myself be unaware of happiness when it is in front of me. Even if happiness only shows its tail, I will grasp it with all my might. And unhappy things will be blown away by the wind. From now on, I want to start anew.

  From then on, I started trying to forget, forgetting senior three and its summer vacation.

  But the difficulty coefficient of active forgetting is too high, so I have to find a helper. So I joined the school's psychological association, so that every week I can receive free psychological counseling from a psychological counselor. Under his tireless guidance, this memory has grown vigorously, and every detail is vivid, making my heart long-term shrouded in severe winter, urgently needing a bowl of chicken soup to warm and care for it. But even science cannot become the chicken soup for my soul, which is simply desperate.

  Later, I read Lu Xun's essays and re-read "For the Sake of Forgetting", the first paragraph is written like this: "I had long wanted to write something to commemorate a few young writers. This was not for any other reason, but because for two years, sorrow and indignation have been constantly attacking my heart, and still haven't stopped. I very much want to use this as an opportunity to shake off the sadness, give myself some relief, and simply put, I want to forget them." These words deeply shocked me, and in that instant, I gained inspiration, and prepared to write a book, shaking off the past, and moving forward.

  Between sixteen and eighteen years old, I did too many wrong things, if I don't forget them, I won't have the courage to live a good life.

  "The Confession" was written in two years, and after being polished by my mentor, it was published under a pretty sentimental pen name.

  At that time, the popular "youth scar literature" was in vogue. Some of these works were about deception, some about infatuation, some about fooling around, and some about betrayal. "The Confidant" had a bit of everything, which is why it was so well-received by readers. And "Confessions" had all of that too - deception, infatuation, fooling around, and betrayal. It was like the culmination of all those themes. Plus, my instructor helped me revise the ending to make it a thorough tragedy, fully fleshing out the painful and pitiful story of a young girl's youth, which is why readers loved it even more.

  The ending revised by the instructor is that the female protagonist, Song Xiaomi, hugs her grandmother's son and sets fire to their ancestral home, successfully killing herself. Upon hearing this news, Song Xiaomi's mother immediately takes her own life. Years later, the old house of the former town mayor in Ping'an Town is left in ruins. The male protagonist brings his wife and daughter to take over as the new town mayor, and with a grand ceremony, he launches three initiatives, the first being to renovate the streets. Song Xiaomi's ancestral home where she took her own life is bulldozed into a flat lot, on which a commercial building is constructed. The male protagonist buys one of the units himself to encourage others to buy in, and from then on, he lives happily with his wife and children in their new home.

  I think such an ending, how can it not be a bestseller?

  But when I first saw this ending, I felt that if I had committed suicide with a moment's thought back then, things might have really developed like this.

  Lin Qiao lived a vibrant life with Su Qi and their daughter, but years later, they all forgot about the girl named Yan Song whom they had wronged during their chaotic youth. The girl's family was ruined, and she could no longer make ends meet, so she took her own life along with her family members.

  The more I think about it, the more I get into the play, and the more I get into the play, the more grateful I am to still be alive.

  Later, I graduated from college and the job market was severe, so I was forced to take the postgraduate entrance exam. I successfully entered the Chinese Department of T University as a free research student. My grandmother's health improved, and with the help of the manuscript fee for "Confessions", she was able to move into a nursing home in the town and live a slightly better life. Yan Lang also transferred to C City to follow me. When you're happy, you should learn to cherish your blessings. I think my current life is quite happy.

  The dew was heavy, the cold air was pressing in on us, a girl who was dressed like a pincushion ran past us from beside, she gave us a vigilant glance and suddenly took off like a shot. I thought to myself, this scene really does resemble a knife-wielding robbery, and that girl's thick clothing actually allowed her to run with such agility, human potential is truly unfathomable.

  Lin Qiao's beautiful black eyes were hidden behind a pair of golden-rimmed glasses, deep and silent.

  A gust of cold wind hit me in the face, and I shivered slightly, saying: "Yeah, I've been doing pretty well these years."

  He didn't speak for a while, then one hand lifted up my chin: "You've cried?"

  I was stunned for a moment, shook my head: "Damn it, can't my eyes just secrete some tears? Do you want me to say that these years have been lived in vain and died in vain before you're satisfied? You're freaking abnormal!"

  He stiffened for a moment. I took advantage of his stiffness and quickly struggled out. Ran away in a puff of smoke.

  He ran halfway and turned back to look, he was still standing under the streetlight.

  Author's note: Before reading the main text, I hope everyone can take a look at what the author has to say. Uh, I want to declare that this story is purely fictional, and if there are any similarities, it's purely coincidental. Then, friends asked me why I wrote these two chapters like this, and actually, I have considered Yan Song's personality, thinking that if anything can bring her down, it would be life itself.

  This article is not a report, just an urban fairy tale YY, so please don't imitate it. In reality, few young single mothers have good endings, Yan Song was lucky mainly because she's the heroine of this urban YY fairy tale.

  The Book of Three Lives No. 7 will be officially on shelves in mid-January, thank you for your support all the time!