Chapter 2

Chapter 2

As an anti-fan, I felt completely exposed in front of this little girl.

Her eyes suddenly lit up as she said, “Really? I love Sister Zhu Yuan so much.”

I pulled out the video on my phone to show her, and her eyes sparkled even more.

“How did she know I like her? She’s such a good person.”

I stared down at the sole of my shoe, wondering when I’d stepped on a piece of bubblegum.

How could she possibly know? I was just making stuff up.

“It must be because the Nurse Jiejies helped me leave a message for her and she saw it, right?”

She’s dead; how could she have seen it?

But the words got stuck in my throat. I couldn’t say them.

She said, “Jiejie, you’re such a good person.”

How ridiculous. That was the most laughable thing I’d heard all day.

Since when did I become a good person?

I’m the girl others call a hoodlum.

I’m your idol’s anti-fan.

I’m like a rat that crawled out of the gutter onto the street-dark and dismal.

I’m the polar opposite of your bright, sunny idol.

“I’m not a good person.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m not.”

“Jiejie, could you help me wind this up? I want to listen to some music.”

“Can’t you do it yourself?”

“Jiejie, I’ll tell you a secret. I think this arm of mine is going to fall off soon. Snap-it’ll just break right off.”

I’m such a piece of trash.

She laughed again. “Ha, did I scare you?”

I took the music box. It was a little carousel, but instead of horses, it featured four adorable cats.

I wound it for a moment, and the melody of ‘Castle in the Sky’ began to play.

“Jiejie, are you really giving me such a wonderful gift?”

“It wasn’t mine anyway. If I say it’s yours, it’s yours.”

She stared at the music box and made me wind it ten times.

By the eleventh time, I’d reached my limit. “Okay, you’re pushing it.”

She pointed to the top of the music box. “What’s that inside the top of the carousel?”

I tilted it over to look.

There was a slip of paper.

[I am no god. If luck isn’t on our side, shall we try having courage together?]

It was signed by Zhu Yuan at the bottom.

Strangely, the name she wrote was Zhu Xiali.

When I said I had to leave, the little girl insisted on giving me a hug.

I politely declined.

The excuse I used was: “I’m afraid your arm might go ‘snap’ and fall off.”

In reality, I grew up in an orphanage.

Children from orphanages never learned how to hug people.