Chapter 2

Chapter 2

A Reader’s Letter-

Dear Mr. Chen Song:

Hello!

I am an ordinary working woman and a loyal reader of yours. Please forgive me for the liberty of writing to you.

For a long time, I have been like most of your readers, supporting you in silence. However, I have always believed that I am different from the others. Now that you are suffering from a lack of inspiration and have even announced your retirement from writing, I feel I can no longer remain silent.

I am writing this long letter with a heart full of trepidation to tell you about my personal experience. This experience is like a demon, seizing my vitality at every moment. I can say with certainty that it will torment me for the rest of my life.

The only person I can confide in is my favorite author-you, Mr. Chen Song.

Ten years ago, our paths crossed briefly in my hometown, Xingping Town. Do you still remember?

The year was 1998. I was eighteen years old and in my final year of high school.

Back then, I was introverted and eccentric, a girl of few words whose only hobby was reading.

I had a close friend in my class named Qin Yue. We shared the same interests and would often skip PE class together to sneak into the library to read.

During PE hours, the school library was basically deserted, giving us a quiet and cozy time that belonged only to us.

Until one day, we went to the library and saw a strange man.

He was sitting by the window reading, and he looked up at us when he heard us enter. His skin was pale and he looked unwell, but as the sunlight spilled across his face, his features appeared gentle.

He said he was a writer named Chen Song who wrote horror novels.

At that time, he had only just debuted and was still an obscure, nameless author. His routine involved traveling from place to place, staying in a new town to read, write, and experience life for three months before moving on.

His three months in Xingping Town had just begun. He had rented a two-story self-built rural house to stay in.

Having learned that the only library in town was located at our high school, he obtained the principal’s permission to come and go from the school to borrow books.

Qin Yue and I both loved reading, but it was the first time we had ever met a writer. We were beyond excited. That day, Chen Song talked to us about many new and interesting things. We listened so intently that the class period flew by.

Small-town girls are full of curiosity, and Chen Song was happy to satisfy it. Every PE class after that, we made a point to meet Chen Song in the library to read and discuss literature together. Chen Song would tell us about his previous travels and show us the novels he was writing.

Days passed. Looking back now, that time always seems bathed in bright sunshine. Outside the window, our classmates played soccer and jumped rope; inside, the three of us talked passionately about literature. As summer approached and the temperature rose, a young girl’s feelings also began to change quietly.

A month after meeting Chen Song, I realized I had fallen in love with him.

He was ten years older than me, but age wasn’t an issue; the connection of souls was what mattered most. The excitement of first love kept me awake at night.

Yet, no matter how much my heart surged like a tidal wave, I remained calm and collected on the surface because of my introverted nature.

Through the lens of love, I began to see myself and Qin Yue more clearly.

Qin Yue and I had grown up together and had been friends for years. For the first time, I realized that I wasn’t as beautiful as Qin Yue, nor was I as cheerful and confident as she was.

Every time we met in the library, it seemed to be Qin Yue who engaged in spirited, back-and-forth conversation with Chen Song. Although I had many insights of my own, Qin Yue would often fluently express the same views before I could even organize my words. I mostly just listened and echoed her.

Qin Yue and I were always inseparable. We walked to school together, ate lunch together, skipped class for the library together, and even went to the restroom together during breaks… I had long since grown used to it.

But now, I felt that this lack of freedom was stifling.

I didn’t want to go to the library with Qin Yue anymore. I wanted to see Chen Song alone. This thought had been circling in my mind for a long time, but because I lacked a proper excuse, I hesitated to act on it.

With only a month left before the college entrance exam, time became tight. PE classes were taken over by study sessions, and we no longer had time to meet Chen Song at the library. Both Qin Yue and I were devastated.

Chen Song encouraged us to study hard for the exams. He said that by the time we finished, he would likely be done with his current novel, and he invited us to his house during the summer break to read it.

During that final sprint toward the exams, Chen Song’s invitation became my only motivation. Whether I was solving problems or memorizing texts, I was thinking of him. My longing for him grew with each passing day.

A month of accumulated love gave birth to immense courage. I was determined to make a change-after the exams were over, I would bravely confess my feelings to him.

Time flew by, and soon, the exams were over.
We had originally agreed to visit Chen Song’s house together the day after our exams ended.

However, I had a little scheme of my own. I went there a day early by myself, without telling Qin Yue.

The self-built house Chen Song rented wasn’t in the village proper; it stood alone, surrounded by woods and a stream. It was quiet, elegant, and rarely disturbed.

In the countryside, front doors are often left wide open, but one should still announce themselves before entering someone else’s home.

At the time, though, my mind was so full of thoughts about confessing my feelings that I was both nervous and reckless. I didn’t say a word and simply slipped inside, treading softly.

I didn’t see Chen Song on the first floor, so I headed up to the second.

The light on the second floor was dim. I saw a door left slightly ajar, a narrow sliver of light spilling through the gap, though I couldn’t see what was inside.

My intuition told me Chen Song was in that room, perhaps reading or writing.

I rehearsed my lines in my head, imagining his reaction.

My brain was a feverish mess, but my feet moved without hesitation, stepping closer and closer to that cracked door.

Those few short steps seemed to stretch on forever; time itself seemed to slow down.

Finally, I came to a halt before the door and raised my hand to knock.

In that moment, the world went silent and my mind cleared. I heard-

“Chen Song…”

A woman’s voice inside called his name, low and soft, whispering intimate words.

I froze on the spot as if struck by lightning.

Even though I was only eighteen and barely an adult, I knew exactly what was happening in that room.

Those suggestive, sticky sounds belonged to my best friend, Qin Yue.

While I was still thinking about soulmates and spiritual connections, Qin Yue had already moved past that stage and started playing adult games with Chen Song.

I shook my head in disbelief and took a step back.

I watched as the ajar door swung slowly and closed with a soft click.

I turned and left, treading as softly as I had when I arrived.

It wasn’t until I got home that the delayed waves of anger, resentment, and betrayal washed over me.

Of course, I had never told Qin Yue about my feelings for Chen Song, and she had never told me about hers. We owed each other nothing; it was a fair competition.

But I couldn’t stand that Qin Yue had gone behind my back-even though I had done the exact same thing-and I especially couldn’t stand that she had gone straight to doing *that*-

Qin Yue-she-how could she-

How could she be so shameless?

And then there was Chen Song. He looked like such a gentleman, an intellectual who always talked about philosophy and literature. How could he end up doing that kind of thing too?

My worldview collapsed. I felt the double betrayal of friendship and love. I was so angry that I felt I had to do something; I had to make them pay.

So, keeping my composure, I acted as if it were a casual slip of the tongue and leaked the matter to the biggest gossip in class. I begged her to keep it a secret.

But secrets are meant to be whispered from ear to ear. That girl simply didn’t reveal that I was the source.

As I expected, within a single day, the whole class knew. Soon, it reached the ears of the adults.

When the news reached the two people involved, Chen Song admitted to it openly, while Qin Yue refused to see anyone.

After all, Chen Song was just an outsider staying there temporarily, and a man at that; he had nothing to fear. But Qin Yue was a local, born and raised, an unmarried eighteen-year-old girl. Her reputation was utterly ruined.

“Mr. Chen Song, though I am bringing up the past, please believe that I am merely recounting this experience and mean nothing else by it. I never told anyone else about this later on, and the locals don’t know that the person involved was you, the now-famous writer.”

I continued.

During those few days, Qin Yue’s scandal became the talk of the town, but my heart was in agony.

I questioned if I had gone too far, but then I thought: who told Qin Yue to be so shameless first? Regardless, I made up my mind never to associate with someone like her again.

And that was exactly what happened.

It was 1998, and the people in our small town were conservative, placing a high value on a woman’s chastity. Consequently, Qin Yue’s family couldn’t bear to stay. One early morning in July, the whole family moved away.

A few days later, Chen Song, who had lived there for three months, packed his bags and headed to his next destination.

I spent a dull, listless summer before leaving the town myself to attend university in the city.

All the friendships and stirrings of adolescence ended naturally that summer.

After starting university, I was exposed to a much wider world. I made new friends and got a boyfriend.

On the surface, my social life seemed unaffected, but only I knew that I often dreamed of that door in the middle of the night.

That door left ajar in the darkness, with only a narrow sliver of light spilling through the gap. In my dreams, I pushed it open countless times.
After that blinding white flash, I would see Chen Song and Qin Yue lying in the same bed-my friend and my boyfriend, together.

In every interpersonal relationship I had from then on, I couldn’t suppress my suspicion. I was unable to truly trust in friendship or love.

Consequently, none of my relationships lasted. My friends and boyfriends would eventually leave me, even though they were perfectly innocent.

Over those years, so many people came and went, but I was always alone.

Furthermore, my inner life was barren. I used to love reading novels and had even fallen in love with a writer, but after my romantic disillusionment, I lost all interest in fiction.

During my junior year of college, the horror novelist Chen Song began to rise to prominence. My classmates were all discussing him, and more than a few recommended his work to me. But I wasn’t interested; I didn’t care, and I ignored any information regarding Chen Song.

Several years passed like this. I graduated from university, worked for a year, and then the year 2003 arrived.

One day, my mother contacted me and told me to return to my hometown to attend Qin Yue’s funeral.

Hearing that familiar yet strange name again, I was met with the news of her accidental death.

I took a leave of absence from my company and rushed back home.

The doors to the Qin Family home were wide open, with a steady stream of mourners coming and going. A memorial hall had been set up just inside the entrance, a coffin placed in the center, with Qin Yue’s parents and older brother sitting on either side.

Qin Yue’s photograph hung on the wall; it was a picture taken back in high school. Her cheeks were round, her eyes curved into crescents as she smiled, her expression so vivid it felt as if she might call out to me to go play at any second.

Looking at that photo, it felt as if no time had passed at all. I couldn’t believe that after five years apart from my former best friend, our reunion would be across the divide between the living and the dead.

Times had changed, and no one mentioned what had happened back then anymore. Faced with the sudden death of a young girl, everyone was filled with regret.

Qin Yue’s mother took my hand and cried, “Yueyue, your best friend has come to see you…”

I walked forward numbly, unsure whether I should kowtow or simply bow.

Qin Yue’s mother told me that they had returned to their hometown a few days prior to clean up their old house and stay for a while. One evening, Qin Yue went out for a walk and accidentally fell into the river. It happened to be the flood season; the rains had been heavy and the current was swift. The neighbors helped search for three days and nights before they finally recovered the body.

By the time the body was found, it was so bloated it had reached the stage of a ‘giant’s view’-a truly gruesome sight.

Listening to these descriptions, it felt as foreign as listening to a news report. I still couldn’t connect those words to the girl in the photograph, so I could only offer a few hollow words of comfort.

After leaving Qin Yue’s house, I wandered aimlessly. The streets and scenery were still familiar; this was the place where I had grown up.

I used to walk this road to school, meeting Qin Yue at this intersection; I’d walk that road to the shops, parting ways with Qin Yue at that corner… Everywhere I went, I was reminded of scenes of us together.

As I walked, I felt a wetness on my chin and realized that my face was covered in tears.

A girl who was once beautiful and vibrant had ended up as nothing more than a sigh in people’s conversations.

Nothing is more significant than life and death. After so many years, it was indeed time to let many things go.

I sincerely prayed and wished for Qin Yue, hoping she could rest in peace.

As I passed the town’s bookstore, I bought a newly released novel by Chen Song.

-Mr. Chen Song, it was from that moment on that I began reading novels again. By now, I have read all of your works and have become a loyal reader of yours.

I saw your interview a while ago where you said the pressure was too great and you decided to stop writing. I can actually understand that. Because psychological pressure isn’t something you can just let go of simply by saying so.

After attending the funeral back then, I was determined to leave the past behind. But over the years, I still haven’t stopped having nightmares, flashing back to that cracked-open door.

I am still forced to stand before that door, suffering through unutterable torment.

Furthermore, for some reason, I frequently find myself thinking back to my friend’s funeral.

I always feel like something wasn’t right. I have a feeling that during the final viewing, the person lying in that coffin…

Wasn’t Qin Yue.

-Mr. Chen Song, as I write this, my heart is in a state of turmoil. I have picked up the pen several times only to hesitate. I am sorry, but I am sending this letter to you before it is finished.

Please send this letter back to me after you have read this far. There is no need to include a reply; I will tell you what happened next in the following letter.

The next letter is very important. I will only send it to you once I have confirmed that you have finished reading this one.

I wish you well!

Your Loyal Reader

December 7, 2008