Chapter 5

The worst part was that, as a disposable side character mentioned in passing,

I got told I would die, but not why.

I often complained when reading novels that the authors didn’t care whether I lived or died.

Turns out they really didn’t care whether I lived or died! Hahahaha!

Turns out I wasn’t a protagonist.

Turns out I was just someone doomed to die young.

Fuck you, author.

I’m mentally stable (flips middle finger), I’m fine (screams), really great (crawls), no big deal (curses in the shadows), don’t worry (drop dead), I’m Long Ah Ning (world-ending strike), crawling, crawling, crawling, crawling out of the screen (murdering the author), hahahahaha (pulls out a knife), finally found you (Sadako smile), one satisfying stab (your turn), huh (why won’t it go in), fuck (dimensional barrier, attack ineffective), anger, impotent rage, howling with impotent rage, howling with impotent rage but choking, coughing, still coughing, puts on a mask, crawling, crawling, crawling, crawling back into the screen (sulking mushroom)…

Really, it wasn’t such a big deal.

I only had to accept that I wasn’t a protagonist. Just a short-lived supporting character.

Just as I’d accepted as a child that the moon wasn’t following me, I eventually accepted my fate.

After all the Qidian, PO, Jinjiang, Haitang, and Zhihu stories I’d read,

Sometimes I didn’t even need the plot to force me. I could nail any random extra’s part all on my own.

When Dad needed someone to cheer for him, I’d say:

“Dad’s power is truly terrifying!”

“Dad’s destiny is in Dad’s hands, not Heaven’s!”

“My dad’s fucking awesome!”

When assorted powerful men were forcing their love on Mom, I’d say:

“Sir, why is Mommy’s face so red? Does she have a fever?”

“Oh dear, I suddenly can’t see anything.”

“Mom, am I part of your story too?”

But I wasn’t mentally sound all the time.

Occasionally I wanted more lines. I wanted to be a supporting character with absolutely no manners.

While Dad was crushing everyone in sight, I’d throw up my arms and yell:

“Dad, you’ve got food in your teeth!”

“Dad, your fly’s open!”

Whether he actually had food in his teeth or his fly undone was immaterial. My specialty was sabotage through slander.

While Mom was murmuring affectionately to someone, I’d scream and howl:

“Mommy, I’m hungry I’m hungry I’m hungry I’m hungry hungryyyyyyyy AAAAAARRROOOOWAAA—”

“Mom Mom Mom Mom—Xiaobai’s pooped his pants!”

Xiaobai was our dog. He normally used the dog toilet in the yard all by himself.

Whether Mom believed I was hungry or Xiaobai had pooped his pants was immaterial. My specialty was a sonic attack that took everyone out.