The First Pill

Grass Seeds

When she received the phone call from her mother, Gui Tingyue had just finished lunch and returned to her bedroom.

Her mother, as always, got straight to the point, and as always, showed her concern and worry, asking about her recent mental state.

Gui Tingyue stopped in front of the window and replied with just two words: “Not bad.”

“Oh……” her mother seemed to sigh in relief, then hesitated slightly: “Your brother will be taking his high school entrance exam in a few days. After that, why don’t you move back home?”

“No, it’s good here,” Gui Tingyue lowered her eyes, gently stroking the cotton-linen curtain, and softly refused: “I don’t want to go back for now.”

Her mother fell silent for a moment: “Alright, but you must tell Mom if anything happens.”

“Mmm.” Gui Tingyue responded, then hung up the phone.

This was the 173rd day since Gui Tingyue moved to this neighborhood.

The house she lived in was under her mother’s name, but after it was fully purchased, their family of four had basically never stayed here – it had always been vacant.

Until half a year ago, her parents worried that her condition would negatively affect her brother who was at a critical point in his education, so they arranged for her to live here temporarily.

That night at the dinner table, her parents’ expressions were gentle yet apologetic as they proposed this arrangement which was also their last resort.

But no matter how impeccable their attitude and tone were, it couldn’t deny the fact that this scene felt more like a “notice” rather than a “discussion.”

Gui Tingyue naturally had no objections. She was well aware that her long-lasting depression had exhausted her family physically and mentally.

On the first day of moving in, her mother had people seal the balcony and windows completely.

A house with bright windows and a great view was turned into an impenetrable stainless steel prison after an afternoon of “conservative” renovation.

Gui Tingyue stood by the window, watching the pale sky and lead-gray clouds being divided into equal parts by the bars, resembling blocks of moldy cream cakes.

— tailor-made for an eccentric, a swamp monster like her.

Her mother stayed with her that night.

The next morning, before leaving, she hugged her tightly, her voice choked with emotion, hoping she would get better soon.

Gui Tingyue could feel her mother’s warmth, yet could not be melted by it.

She had disconnected from the world, or rather, she had faded and become transparent in this world, losing all her senses, unable to see vibrant colors, or taste sour, sweet, bitter, or spicy flavors. Eating, drinking, and other bodily functions became monotonous and arduous tasks.

Many times, she just wanted to stay in her bedroom, lying there alone, even though poor sleep was equally tormenting for her.

Her brother was unaware of the move, thinking she had just gone back to the hospital for rehabilitation. The clueless little boy sent her a message on WeChat over the weekend, recommending her to watch “Doctor Strange,” saying: “Sis, you have to watch this movie. Doctor Strange also got severely injured in an accident and couldn’t perform surgery anymore. But he ended up saving the world, with some help from magic of course, but what really helped him recover wasn’t magic – it was him overcoming himself. His self-respect and pride meant he never gave up, always had confidence in himself.”

Gui Tingyue replied: Thank you.

In the end, she only watched ten minutes before closing the video. Her ability to empathize had hit rock bottom – she could no longer draw any energy from images and text.

Gui Tingyue didn’t live alone of course, as her personal condition wasn’t suitable for solitary living.

There was an auntie hired by her mother to accompany her, taking care of her meals and daily needs, ensuring she took her medication on time, and most importantly, guaranteeing her personal safety.

The auntie was stoutly built but with a particularly gentle face. Gui Tingyue addressed her as Auntie Li.

When her mother introduced her to Gui Tingyue, Auntie Li hurriedly tried to get close to her, her voice hearty and mixed with a hometown accent: “Yueyue, we have a great connection, my name also has the character ‘yue’ in it.”

Yue – moon

Gui Tingyue asked: “What’s your name?”

Auntie Li replied: “I’m Li Yuexiang.”

Gui Tingyue said: “Nice name, it reminds me of the fragrance of laurel.”

Auntie Li was stunned, turning to Gui Tingyue’s mother: “Your daughter is beautiful and articulate. I never thought my name could be associated that way.”

A few days after her mother left, Auntie Li became more relaxed. After bringing dinner to Gui Tingyue’s room, she wouldn’t rush to leave, instead chatting non-stop: “Yueyue, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you. I have a lot of experience. My husband also had your illness, and he was even worse, he had that bipolar something—I can’t remember the name. Sometimes he was very excited, and other times he didn’t want to do anything. My daughter took him to see a doctor, and he was medicated too.”

Gui Tingyue asked: “How is he now?”

Auntie Li looked spirited, “He’s much better now. He can live independently. Otherwise, how could I come out to do this job?”

Gui Tingyue responded with an “mm,” slowly sipping the stewed egg soup from her spoon.

Auntie Li looked at her delicate and thin appearance and sighed: “You will get better too.”

You will get better.

Over the past year, Gui Tingyue had heard this sentence at least ten thousand times, from different people – some sympathetic, some well-intentioned encouragement.

But has she really gotten better? Sometimes she felt like her soul had been knocked out of her body in that accident, and since then she had only been a hollowed apple, withered and fragmented, clinging to the branch waiting for the final autumn breeze to blow her down.

Sometimes, Gui Tingyue even doubted if she still had a heartbeat.

But in the deep silence of night, she could clearly hear the rhythm inside her body. Under the influence of medication, it seemed extremely frantic, as if struggling helplessly yet with all their might to sustain her life.

Regulating her breathing to fall asleep had become a daily challenge for Gui Tingyue. Despite the aid of medication, nights were still like black plastic bags, tightly wrapping her. Yet, in it, she found a suffocating stability, as she didn’t have to face people and things during the day, and their scrutiny and questioning.

These days dragged on for a long time.

On the 173rd day, Gui Tingyue stared at the days on the app, as if performing some kind of countdown ritual, despite knowing that the relief point was far off under multiple constraints.

Gui Tingyue sat back at her desk, clicked open a black pen, and started writing in her diary.

Ever since being diagnosed, she had developed the habit of keeping a diary, and the content was all in the form of letters, always beginning with “Gui Tingyue, hope this letter finds you well.”

But usually, as soon as she wrote her own name, the page would begin to blur.

Gui Tingyue covered her eyes with one hand and closed the diary with the other, giving up on recording today’s entry.

Today, as always, she had accomplished nothing – even a single stroke was a luxury.

Her palm quickly dampened, moisture seeping through the gaps of her fingers. She had weakly sunk back into this gloomy, viscous swamp, unable to save herself, nor call for help.

Suddenly, a completely unfamiliar high-pitched syllable darted into her ear.

Gui Tingyue was stunned for a moment, putting down her hand in confusion.

“Bang!”

Before she could even process it, a volley of drumbeats came crashing down – dense and intense, yet not chaotic, following a cadence.

The closed glass and heavy curtains couldn’t stop this torrential rain of sound from reaching the room, rhythmically beating and stomping in the dim atmosphere, seeming to spark countless electric sparks.

Gui Tingyue got goosebumps all over her body.

The drumming grew increasingly wild, brimming with astonishing vitality, like thousands of grass seeds being scattered wantonly, then bursting through the soil, sprouting and surging forth magnificently, weaving a towering forest, a lush green canopy in an instant.

Gui Tingyue was completely captivated, listening with rapt attention. Not until the drumming faded away completely, leaving only distant voices and bird calls from outside the window, did she realize her hands had been clenched so tightly for so long that her nails had left several bloody marks on her skin.

But she didn’t feel any pain at all, only an unexpected stillness as she remained seated there.

After taking leave, this was the first time during daylight hours that she clearly heard her own heartbeat, as if she had just witnessed the power of a pacemaker.

After a while, Gui Tingyue stood up from her chair and, without a second thought, walked out of the bedroom.

Because the drumming was too swift and exuberant, it was like a fleeting encounter that seemed unlike anything in her current life. She was very worried it was an auditory hallucination and was desperate to confirm it clearly.

Auntie Li had just back from the balcony after picking a few green onions, and was both surprised and delighted to bump into her: “Eh? Yueyue, what’s the matter?”

In the full half-year since she had started caring for Gui Tingyue, this girl seldom took the initiative to leave her bedroom, like a flower trapped in a dark box that may or may not survive no matter how much nurturing it received.

In the full half-year since she had started caring for Gui Ting Yue, this girl seldom took the initiative to leave her bedroom, like a flower trapped in a dark box that may or may not survive no matter how much nurturing it received.

At this moment, she stood there, taking a deep breath, then anxiously asked: “Did you hear any sounds just now?”