Jiang Chan was Jiang Xi’s younger sister.

Back in their hometown, people called the two sisters “Xiao Chan” and “Da Xi.”

The older sister, Da Xi, was carefree and reckless, always getting into trouble; while the younger sister, Xiao Chan, had shown extraordinary intelligence from a young age—obedient, clever, and quick-witted. As the family’s hope, Xiao Chan was taken away by a wealthy uncle when she was still young and raised in his household. After moving to the city, she only returned home during summer vacation.

During Jiang Xi’s youth, Jiang Xiaochan died.

For years, every time Jiang Xi fell asleep, she would have the same nightmare:

A beautiful girl in a white dress lying in an ice coffin. Her long, black, soaking wet hair clung to her face and neck like fine spider silk. Jiang Xi stepped forward, trying to brush away the tangled strands for her sister.

But she couldn’t. A violent force slammed into her and knocked her away.

“Stop pretending! If it weren’t for you, she wouldn’t have died!” her mother would yell angrily. Dark clouds loomed in the sky, and the world would dim.

Her mother seemed to say something else, but Jiang Xi could never make it out. She would look at the wind-blown curtains, like a dream bubble swelling in the air. And the moment that bubble burst, her mother’s figure would fall past the window—straight down, right before her eyes.

It was a nightmare, but also a memory that played on repeat.

—After her sister’s death, her mother couldn’t bear it and followed Jiang Xiaochan into death.

For Jiang Xi, forgetting became a means of survival.

The grief was too overwhelming to process. She fell seriously ill, and her mind locked away all memories related to “Jiang Xiaochan.”

She forgot her sister—but not completely.

Jiang Xi feared dreaming, and from that, developed a fear of sleep itself.

Each day, she barely dared to rest. She lived in a state between human and ghost, yet still couldn’t escape the haunting presence of Jiang Xiaochan.

That shadow—crawling from her nightmares—began appearing even when she was awake.

From then on, whether in dreams or reality, Jiang Xi never knew peace again.

Inside the hotel room, the man beside her was sleeping deeply.

Outside, heavy rain slammed against the windowpane like knuckles rapping on glass.

At the foot of the bed, that cold, bone-chilling gaze clung to her hopelessly. Jiang Xi forced herself not to dwell on it. She shut her eyes and pulled the blanket over her head, curling up in misery.

The next day.

After the rain, the sun seemed to burn even hotter, as if someone had thrown more wood on the fire.

When sunlight hit her arm, Jiang Xi opened her eyes and saw the space beside her was empty.

Not surprising. A man picked up at a bar would naturally leave on his own. Last night had been enjoyable; Jiang Xi’s body still felt sore. She rolled over, planning to sleep a bit longer.

As she turned, she caught sight of someone sitting on the sofa—and nearly jumped.

The man hadn’t left. He was sitting there, staring at her intently.

His posture and gaze reminded her instantly of the ghost at the foot of the bed.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” she snapped, suddenly feeling uneasy.

“You’re awake?” The man got up from the sofa and sat on the edge of her bed, his expression gentle. “Are you hungry? Do you want something to eat?”

His voice was warm and sweet, like honey. In the bright morning light, his handsome features looked even more striking. His eyes carried a smile, long lashes blinking gently, and there was a touch of warm affection in his gaze.

The alcohol from the night before churned up a sour feeling in her stomach. Jiang Xi frowned and said,

“I don’t want to eat. You go ahead without me.”

“It’s okay, I’m not hungry. You keep sleeping—I’ll wait. When you wake up, I’ll take you to eat something delicious.” As he spoke, he returned to the small sofa. Respectful, polite, quiet—he didn’t disturb her rest at all.

They were strangers who had only shared one night, and his unexpected lingering wasn’t romantic at all. In fact, it was downright creepy. Jiang Xi couldn’t figure out what he wanted, and she didn’t bother trying—she just asked directly.

“Do we really have to eat this meal together?” she said with a fake, flirtatious smile. The blanket slipped from her shoulder, the view underneath vaguely suggestive. “What, do you want to have lunch and then sleep with me again?”

Her bluntness caught him off guard. The man was momentarily speechless, then stammered out a response.

“I mean… sure, if you want… either way’s fine.”

If her body didn’t still ache, Jiang Xi might’ve believed he was the one being taken advantage of.

She coughed lightly and turned him down. “I can’t. I have work this afternoon. Let’s save the meal for next time.”

“Alright.” He agreed immediately. “Then let’s add each other on WeChat.”

“I don’t know where my phone is.” Jiang Xi was sprawled out lazily, not wanting to move an inch.

“It’s right there.” The man pointed to the nightstand.

Jiang Xi looked over—and saw something even more bizarre.

Her clothes, dress, and even her underwear were neatly folded like tofu cubes and stacked beside her phone on the nightstand.

The man cheerfully pulled out his phone. “And your number—give me your number too.”

For a moment, Jiang Xi suspected he was a salesman or trying to sell her insurance. But since things had come this far, she had no choice but to go along with him.

As he wished, he got Jiang Xi’s contact info.

She thought that was the end of it, that he would leave. But instead, he just sat back on the sofa with his phone in hand.

With him still loitering around, Jiang Xi gave up on sleeping. She got up, got dressed, and headed out.

The two left the hotel room together.

Jiang Xi walked ahead, while the man followed closely behind.

If he had even a little bit of social awareness, he wouldn’t have chosen to leave at the same time as her. Jiang Xi felt awkward but didn’t want to waste energy making small talk with him.

While waiting for the elevator, she’d already called a taxi; inside the elevator, she kept her head down, playing with her phone the whole time.

By the time she finished checking out at the front desk, her taxi had already pulled up at the entrance.

Jiang Xi said a quick “bye” to him and turned to walk out of the hotel.

It was noon, and the sun was blazing.

Squinting against the glare, Jiang Xi hurried toward her ride in quick strides.

She shut the car door, only to see that man relentlessly following after her again.

“I know… you don’t remember me.”

He paused, and his voice suddenly turned hoarse, as if suppressing a surge of emotions. “But… do you still remember Jiang Xiaochan?”

The sun was blinding.

In her rush, she looked up at him.

The driver stepped on the gas, and she missed seeing his expression at that moment.

The taxi drove a long way before the goosebumps on her arms even started to fade. That man’s final words had thrown Jiang Xi into complete confusion.

It felt like a speaker in her head was blasting his words on loop.

Jiang Xiaochan—he didn’t even just say “Jiang Chan,” he called her Jiang Xiaochan.

Who was this man?

Jiang Xi thought about it the entire ride.

She had never really known much about Jiang Xiaochan to begin with. After falling ill once, what little she could remember was nearly nothing.

She tried her hardest to recall. In her memory, Jiang Xiaochan often suffered heatstroke in the summer. She’d had a man she was madly in love with, someone she met in the city. His name was… it was…

Her sense of smell returned first. In a daze, she recalled the scent of overripe fruit.

Then it hit her.

The man Jiang Xiaochan had been obsessed with—his name was Lin Jia.

Frantically unlocking her phone, Jiang Xi opened WeChat. The top chat box had a new greeting message.

The message read: “I’m Lin Jia.”

His profile picture was a hand-drawn burger. Jiang Xi’s fingers trembled slightly as she clicked into his profile. His location was set to “Maocheng”—Jiang Xiaochan’s hometown.

That couldn’t be. The man she’d slept with last night—was he Jiang Xiaochan’s Lin Jia?

Jiang Xiaochan had already hated her enough as a ghost. If that were true, she’d absolutely come back to kill her. Jiang Xi could feel her blood pounding in her temples.

It couldn’t be such a coincidence. There were plenty of people with the same name, and Lin Jia was such a common one.

She told herself this was nonsense and clicked into his Moments, hoping to find more clues.

Lin Jia’s Moments were set to “viewable for the past three days only.” His background photo was of a lively little diner under a streetlamp.

Jiang Xi stared at that photo the entire way home, growing more and more anxious the longer she looked.

The taxi reached her neighborhood.

She paid the fare and got out, feeling dazed and disoriented.

The moment she opened the car door, the blocked-out summer heat surged forward all at once.

She stepped too quickly, unprepared, straight into the searing air—like a block of ice tossed into molten lava.

Her stomach turned violently, her head spun and swelled. She stumbled to a tree and dry-heaved so hard it felt like her guts would tear out.

A mess of emotions swamped her, sweat breaking out across her forehead in sticky layers.

Jiang Xi couldn’t even pinpoint exactly what was wrong—everything just felt awful.

The scorching sun seemed hell-bent on melting her. She straightened up, trying to catch her breath, but her rational thoughts snapped under the weight of the heat.

The world spun. Suffering from heatstroke, Jiang Xi collapsed into the bushes like her soul had left her body.

…

Summer made people irritable; the world felt distorted.

When the wind blew, it made only the faintest sound.

The air was heavy with humidity, sticking to everything it could, making it hard for anything to disperse.

Jiang Xi’s throat tightened; it was so dry it felt like it was about to catch fire. She wanted a drink.

She was holding a full bottle of water in her hand.

The plastic bottle was long, but her hand was small. She was running, wearing translucent blue jelly sandals on her feet.

She was a very young, very short little girl.

Jiang Xi was sharing the same pair of eyes with the girl.

The girl bounced along the dusty village road, swinging the bottle full of water.

Trees, walls, bricks, stones—she tapped everything she passed with the bottle. She jumped higher and higher, as if she were trying to leap straight into the midday sun.

Sweat poured endlessly from her body. Her steps grew unsteady, as though she were walking on cotton.

Just as she was in the middle of pure joy, the bottle knocked against the edge of someone’s window, making a soft thud. Like a pebble dropping into a still pond, it sent out ripples.

After the soft thud, things inside the house suddenly began to fall, one after another.

First it was small things—bowls and plates.

Then larger ones—cabinets.

And then—someone hit the floor with a loud crash, followed by a moan of pain.

The little girl panicked, thinking her tapping had caused all this chaos. She quickly hid the bottle behind her back and turned to run.

In her rush, she forgot to breathe properly. Her mind went blank, and she was just about to fall…

In that moment of danger, Jiang Xi stepped in and took control, steadying the girl’s balance by leaning against the wall.

Once she was standing firm again, Jiang Xi realized something shocking: she could control the girl’s movements.

She lifted an arm, then a leg.

The short arms looked like chubby lotus roots. The thin legs were weak and had little strength.

Jiang Xi had no idea what was happening.
Where was she?
How did she go from being an adult to a little girl?
And who was this child?

“Go to hell!” a boy’s angry shout snapped her out of her thoughts.

She turned toward the house where the loud noises had come from.

The glass window reflected a familiar face.

It was her younger sister—Jiang Xiaochan.

The little girl had her hair in pigtails and held the plastic bottle in her hand. When Jiang Xi touched her own face in stunned disbelief, the Jiang Xiaochan in the reflection did the same.

That was when Jiang Xi finally realized—she was inside the body of young Jiang Xiaochan.

And that wasn’t even the most shocking part.

Behind the window, someone was staring at her.

Their eyes met.

Cold and clear eyes, peach-shaped and full of unspoken emotion. He was still a boy, like an unripe fruit, but already carried hints of the striking beauty he would grow into.

His looks were unforgettable.

Just last night, Jiang Xi had slept with him.
Now, that same person appeared before her—only younger, still a teenager.

Holding a bloodstained knife, Lin Jia looked out the window at Jiang Xi.