Ohh.
Shit…
my head still spinning.
I tried to move my hands… tied.
Legs? Also tied.
Blindfolded, gagged, and tied up like some damn hostage in a cheap crime movie.
What the hell did I even do?
Is this some kind of prank? No. Too painful to be a joke.
"Captain, she's awake," one voice said, footsteps approaching slowly. Heavy boots. Probably that idiot from earlier.
"Doesn't matter," Captain Dai said, voice cold like ice.
"No one will remember her after this."
Wait– what the actual fuck does that mean?!
NO ONE WILL REMEMBER ME?!
Am I gonna die today?
Just like this?
Tied up, ugly crying, and not even knowing why?
No, no way. Not dying like this.
I ain't done anything wrong. I didn't steal, kill, or scam anyone. I even paid my taxes last year!
"Prepare the van. Boss said location changed. We move now."
"What about the girl?"
"She's coming with us, obviously. Alive—for now."
Alive—for now?
That's not exactly comforting, dipshit!
I twisted my wrists again, hard. Rope's rough, skin burning. But I won't just sit here waiting to die.
Think, think!
Where was I last?
I was walking home after buying cup noodles and chips… yeah! That tiny store near my alley. Then—BAM. Darkness. And now… this mess.
Okay, stay calm. Breathe.
Wait—where's my phone?
Oh right… the fuckers burnt it.
"Captain, phone's burnt."
"Good. No trace. Let's go."
What kind of operation is this? Secret agency? Mafia? Human trafficking?
I swear if I survive this, I'm reporting y'all on every app—Twitter, Threads, Tiktok, whatever.
I heard the van door creak open, then heavy hands dragged me up like I weighed nothing.
"Ugh—Don't touch me! Bastards!"
Not that they cared.
Door slammed. Engine started.
Now I'm in a van, heading God knows where, with armed idiots, no phone, no clue, and still hungry for my cup noodles.
This is seriously the worst day of my life.
The van stopped.
Doors slammed open, voices shouting.
Not the same voices from before.
What the hell is going on?
BANG!
BOOM!
Gunshots? What the—?
Is this a gang fight?! Are these bastards fighting each other now?!
Suddenly, the door near me got kicked open.
I flinched, heart racing like crazy.
Someone jumped in, rough hands grabbing me again—but this time, they were untying me.
"Run," a deep voice said.
I looked up, dazed, blinking through tears and confusion.
"W-What…?"
"I said RUN!"
"What the fuck is happening?!" I yelled but my legs were already moving.
I stumbled out of the van, barely finding my balance. My legs were noodles. I looked around—dark alley, red lights flashing from some van headlights, people screaming, bullets flying.
"I want to see how long and fast you can run," someone behind me muttered like it was a sick game.
Are you fucking kidding me?!
I ran.
I actually ran.
Footsteps pounding, my breath sharp, lungs burning.
Then—
Shz—BOOM.
I felt it.
Hot.
Sharp.
Like lightning tore through my stomach.
I looked down… red. So much red.
My shirt soaked, sticky, warm.
"Ah…"
My knees buckled.
I fell.
It hurt. God, it hurt so bad.
I couldn't scream.
I couldn't even move.
Just lying there, blood pooling under me, the cold road hugging my back like it was saying goodbye.
"I'm… dying?"
Everything blurred. The sky, the lights, the voices…
All fading.
"Fainted… fuck… I'm dying."
"I'm… die…"
Even now—last moment—
Mom…
Dad…
You're not here.
You're not gonna know how I died.
Why I died.
Why did it have to be like this?
Just like that—
Darkness.
Dark.
Cold.
Silent.
Then… something.
A feeling. A pull. Like I was floating in water but not drowning. A weird, quiet peace.
"I thought I died…"
No.
Wait—something's wrong.
I feel weight. I feel heat.
Pain.
My chest hurts. My stomach burns. My skin feels stretched and patched.
Then light.
White light. Too bright.
My eyes squint. Slowly adjusting. My head throbs like someone playing drums inside it.
I hear beeping. That soft, annoying, rhythmic sound.
Machines?
Then it hits me.
That strong smell of antiseptic. That stupid plastic tube stuck into my hand. Saline dripping slowly.
I'm… in a hospital?
I blink. Try to sit up. Can't.
My arms are jelly. My back? Barely moving.
I move my lips. Cracked. Dry.
"Huh… huhh…"
Is this what dying feels like? Or… did I not die?
I lived?
A whisper nearby catches my attention. Behind a curtain.
"It's really a miracle that girl survived," someone says.
A man's voice. Calm, low.
"I didn't think she would make it… her wounds were in a terrible state. So much blood loss."
"Yeah, I thought the same, Dr. Yu," a woman replies. Probably a nurse.
So I was dying.
My whole body twitches at the memory.
The van.
The guns.
The strange gang fight.
The bullet tearing through my stomach like I was made of paper.
They tried to kill me. Just like that.
And I… survived?
Footsteps. The curtain swishes slightly.
I shut my eyes halfway, pretending to sleep.
"Dr. Yu, is she really alright?" the nurse asks again.
"Yes," he answers.
"She pulled through surgery. She's stable now. But weak. Very weak. No memory loss, I hope. She needs rest."
"Should we contact her parents or relatives for discharge and payment procedures?"
"Yes. Start preparing the forms. If she has identification, notify them immediately."
Then they walk off.
Payment? Parents?
Suddenly I feel sick again, but not from my injury.
My face twists with panic.
My chest tightens.
"My parents…!"
They must be worried sick.
They probably think I'm dead.
Or missing. Or worse.
The thought of their faces, crying, calling the police, putting up flyers—it makes my eyes tear up without warning.
But wait—
My heart drops even lower.
My ID.
My phone.
They burned it.
Those bastards actually burned my only link to my life. My everything.
No documents. No number. No records.
How are they gonna find out who I am?
I stare at the IV drip. The slow, silent drip… drip… drip…
They'll think I'm a nobody.
Some orphan. A Jane Doe.
The embarrassment burns worse than the bullet wound.
What if they post my photo online?
Hospital missing report?
People from school might see it. That class gossip Reina will totally repost it on her stories and say some fake "prayers" caption like she cares.
God. Kill me again, please.
I grip the bedsheet weakly. I hate this. I hate feeling this helpless.
The door creaks open.
I freeze.
Not the doctor. Not a nurse.
A stranger.
Tall. Pale coat. Thin frame. Slicked-back hair.
He walks in like he owns the place.
Who the hell?
He pulls a chair near my bed. Sits without asking.
I try to talk. My throat burns.
I whisper, "W-Who…?"
He raises his hand.
"Shh. Don't speak. You're safe. For now."
Safe?
The hell does that mean?
He looks at me for a while, like he's examining some weird painting.
"You were part of something bigger. A wrong place, wrong time situation. We're investigating it."
Investigating?
So he's… a cop?
FBI?
Some underground agent?
I open my mouth again, confused and tired.
He interrupts, "Don't worry. They won't find you again. And we'll handle your medical bills for now."
For now?
That part didn't sound comforting.
He stands. Places a card near my bed.
A plain card. Black. No logo. Just numbers.
"Call this when you're stronger. Use the hospital phone."
He leaves. Just like that.
What the fuck is happening?
I went from eating cup noodles to almost dying, to waking up in a damn hospital with strangers talking about miracles and investigations.
And I still haven't had my noodles.
God. What kind of joke is this?
I stare at the ceiling.
It's quiet again. Just me, and that damn beeping.
It's been 5 days now.
Five long-ass days stuck in this hospital bed, smelling like medicine, eating tasteless porridge, and trying not to go insane from boredom.
At least I can talk now. My throat doesn't feel like sandpaper anymore.
And today—I actually stood up and walked a few steps. Victory.
The nurses clapped softly like I just won an Olympic medal or something.
Honestly, that made me want to cry.
But still, everything hurts. My stomach is stitched up like some half-assed patchwork. And when I look in the mirror—
God.
I look like shit.
My hair's a mess.
Dark circles under my eyes.
Face pale like I fought a ghost and lost.
But whatever.
I'm alive.
Every day, someone new comes to ask me questions.
Plainclothes officers, men in suits, sometimes a woman with a stiff bun and a notebook.
They flash their IDs, write stuff down, ask the same questions over and over again.
"Do you remember the number plate of the van?"
"No."
"Any names or tattoos?"
"Uh, one guy had '666' on his neck, but I don't know if that helps."
"Do you remember what direction they took you?"
"I was blindfolded, genius."
Still, I told them everything I could.
How I got hit from behind.
Woke up tied.
Overheard them burning my phone.
How another group came—some weird gang fight.
Then I ran.
Then I got shot.
Yeah, I didn't leave out anything.
Even the guy who rescued me and told me to run like it was some twisted game.
I told them about him too.
His cold voice. His creepy line.
"I want to see how long and fast you can run."
Who even says that?!
Today, one of the officers returned. The nicer one.
Older. Calm voice. Smells like mint and cheap laundry powder.
"Uncle Su Cheng," I started calling him.
Even though he's technically a stranger, he's been checking on me like a distant uncle from another city.
Brought me bananas once. They were unripe but the thought counts.
He came in, sat beside my bed like usual, with his pen and paper.
"Kid," he said gently. "Thanks for cooperating. You've done well. We've recorded everything and passed it to the criminal unit."
I nodded. My hands were shaking again but I hid them under the blanket.
"Your parents will come to pick you up tomorrow. I checked the database—used your fingerprints. Got your resident record. Hospital will inform you when they arrive."
I just stared at him.
"Thank you… Uncle Su Cheng."
He blinked, then laughed a little.
"You call me uncle now?"
I shrugged. "Well… you kinda took care of me. Brought bananas. Told me I wasn't crazy."
He chuckled. "Alright. Then, take care. I'll come say goodbye tomorrow."
He stood and waved before walking off.
My heart felt weirdly warm.
Like someone turned on a small heater in my chest.
It had been five days of confusion, pain, and loneliness…
But at least I wasn't totally alone.
And tomorrow…
My parents.
I bit my lip.
What would I even say?
"Hey Mom, Dad—sorry I got kidnapped, shot, almost died, and caused emotional damage for the rest of your life."
Yeah. That's a tough one.
Still…
I wanted to see them.
Just one hug from Mom. Just one look from Dad. That'd make all this feel… less horrible.
Outside, the sky was turning orange.
Sunset.
I turned on my side slowly, staring out the window.
No gunshots.
No running.
Just the quiet hum of the AC, and a nurse humming a soft song at the station outside.
Maybe things would be okay now.
They came.
My parents.
They didn't cry or scream or hug me like in those emotional movies.
But I saw it.
In the way Mom kept fixing my blanket even though it wasn't cold.
In the way Dad kept clearing his throat and looking out the window.
Yeah.
They care for me.
Even though we don't say it much, I know it.
After three hours in the car, through streets and signs I barely paid attention to, we reached the Lin Residency.
My home.
Same walls.
Same smell.
Same creaky door that never got fixed.
I walked in slowly, everything familiar but weirdly distant now. Like I was visiting someone else's house.
I headed straight to the bathroom, peeled off my hospital gown, and stood under the shower for what felt like an hour.
Let the water wash away the blood, the pain, the fear, and that awful medicine smell.
I changed into fresh clothes. Pajamas. Loose and warm.
Then I collapsed into bed.
My bed.
The sheets smelled like sunshine and soap. God, I missed this.
Ring… Ring…
My phone?
No. House landline.
I picked it up.
"I heard you returned to Guanzho, little Lin."
Uncle Su Cheng.
His voice calm as ever.
"Okay, take care. I'm busy with some murder cases, so I can't come to say goodbye."
"It's okay, Uncle," I said softly, smiling. "Take care of yourself too."
Then the line went dead.
At the dinner table…
Mom cooked my favorites.
Steamed egg. Sweet tofu. Boiled chicken with ginger.
Simple stuff, but warm and familiar.
We sat down. Just the three of us.
Mom. Dad. Me.
"Hey, Lian'er," Dad said suddenly.
His voice low.
Yeah… Lian'er—my name.
Lin Lian'er.
Grandpa gave it to me when I was born.
Said it meant lotus child, pure and bright.
I love Grandpa so much.
He used to tell me stories about dragons and kings and stupid goblins that trip over their own swords.
But now… he's sick. Really sick.
Hospitalized for months.
Last time I visited him, he couldn't even speak clearly. That memory still hurts.
"Hey Lian'er, I heard you said you remembered someone took you into a van and there was a number mark on someone's neck?"
Dad's question cut into my thoughts.
I blinked.
"Yeah, Papa. I already told the cops. A tattoo. Three numbers."
He nodded slowly. "Oh… so it was 760, right?"
My chopsticks froze mid-air.
"No," I said. "It was 666."
"Oh."
That's all he said.
But my heart dropped.
HOW?
How did he know anything about 666?
I made that number up. On purpose.
For my safety.
In case someone from them was still watching.
It was a lie. A fake clue.
Nobody should know it.
Nobody.
Unless…
Unless they were there.
My hands shook. I placed my bowl down carefully.
Mom was silent. She just glanced at Dad.
"So… do you remember anything else?" Dad asked again, more casually now.
I swallowed.
My throat dry.
"No. Why do you ask?"
He smiled. Small.
"Just making sure."
"Okay. Good. Take a rest."
I nodded.
But inside—
I was screaming.
Something's wrong.
Something's really wrong.
Oh fucking pain.
My head hurts—like something's drilling through my skull from the inside.
I grabbed it with both hands, fingers trembling.
Did… did my parents poison me?
No.
No, no, what kind of thought is that, Lian'er?!
It's your parents.
But…
This feeling.
This heaviness in my chest, this weird, sick taste in my mouth… it's not normal.
Something's wrong.
Something's really wrong.
"I think I need fresh air…" I mumbled.
I pulled on my hoodie and slippers. Quietly, I opened the door.
"Mom, Dad, I'm going for a night walk," I called out.
No response.
Just silence.
Outside, the air was cold. Night wind brushed my cheeks.
I took slow steps, trying to calm my spinning head.
Then—
Whispers.
Low voices, like from inside the house, behind a cracked-open window.
I stopped. I listened.
{"Do you think she knows something?"
"I don't think so. She even gave a different tattoo number. The man we hired had a totally different mark. She has no idea."
"So tonight's medicine will work, right? Honey?"**
"Yes, my darling. Tasteless poison. I added it to all her dishes. By morning… she'll be dead."
"We'll finally get Grandpa's will. Twenty million yuan. We're going to be rich."
My stomach dropped.
No breath. No words. Just silence.
My body froze.
My soul froze.
Mom… Dad…?
You… poisoned me?
For money?
For Grandpa's will?
No… No way…
But it all made sense now.
The number.
How Dad knew.
How calm they were.
How they rushed dinner.
That weird aftertaste.
Suddenly—
Cough!
Cough, cough, cough!!!
Blood.
Warm. Metallic. Sticky.
Came out from my mouth.
I'm poisoned.
I panicked.
I ran.
Down the street. Past the alley.
It was 1:00 AM.
Shops were closed.
The world was asleep.
I need a medicine shop.
Something—anything!
I can't die.
I can't die.
My legs.
They feel like concrete blocks.
My heart's racing like a broken engine.
Why?!
Why does it feel like the world's spinning?
My vision…
It's blurring.
Lights becoming shadows.
Shapes melting.
My eyes…
I can't see.
I can't see anything.
"What's happening… to me…"
I whispered, staggering forward.
One more step.
Then another.
Then—
Thud.
I collapsed.
Face down on the cold concrete.
The taste of blood on my lips.
My Whole body lying on street Like a dead body .
Cold…
Again.
But it's not the same cold.
Not hospital cold. Not city cold.
This cold felt like—earth. Like damp dirt. Fog. Stone walls.
My eyes blinked slowly.
"Huh…?"
Where…?
There's no ceiling lamp.
No AC sound.
No saline tubes.
Just… straw roof?
Wooden beams?
A mosquito net?
What the hell is this place?
I slowly sat up, groaning. My body ached, but—
Wait.
My wound… it's gone?
I pulled my robe (wait, robe?!), and looked.
No blood.
No scars.
Just smooth skin.
"What the actual…"
Suddenly—CRASH!
The wooden door burst open.
A girl wearing old-style hanfu ran in, holding a steaming bowl.
"Xiao'er! You're awake!" she cried, eyes teary. "Heavens! Doctor said you'd not live through the night! I prayed all night!"
"Wait—who?"
I stared at her blankly.
She hugged me tight.
I froze like a statue.
"Your fever broke! Thank the heavens! I'll go inform Madam Lin!"
Madam Lin?!
Xiao'er?
Heaven?
What kind of drama am I in now?!
I ran to the mirror—
A bronze one. No glass. Just a shiny metal plate on a wooden stand.
And the face staring back—
Wasn't mine.
You gotta be kidding me.
New face.
New clothes.
New world?
This has to be a dream.
Or maybe…
Did I die…?
Am I reborn?
Like in those novels I never finished reading?
But this—
This feels too real.
The room. The smell.
Even my breath in this chilly air.
Outside, I hear bells. Drums. People shouting "tax inspection" and "report to the village head!"
Some guy yells about "Imperial edict" and "Tang calendar year 13."
Tang?
Wait. Tang Dynasty?!
Hold up.
I'm in Ancient China?!
Like real ancient? Silk, swords, scholars, and eunuchs type of ancient!?
WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON.