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“Woof! Woof!”
A large yellow dog broke free from the staff’s leash and dashed toward the stretcher, barking fiercely while gripping onto the frame with all its might.
The red string with copper coins around Pei Yu’s wrist was yanked off and fell into the dusty ground, while the copper wind chime hanging inside his costume ended up in the dog’s mouth.
Thick black smoke lingered heavily in the air, dyeing a patch of sky into a murky gray.
Amid the barking, Chen Shuyin regained a sliver of consciousness. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed onto her knees, pressing her hands weakly against the shattered stones. As she slid forward, she fell onto the ground, scraping her palms into deep, bloody gashes.
A person without the will to live is as heavy as a mountain. Liu Yiran failed to hold her up and ended up kneeling alongside her. “Shuyin!”
“I’m fine, I’m fine.” Chen Shuyin rotated her wrists, trying to brush away the dirt from her hands. Her voice was as faint as a mosquito’s buzz, tightening the hearts of those who heard it.
The yellow dog, as if recognizing its owner, changed direction and ran toward Chen Shuyin. It knelt on its front legs, pressing its head against her waist, trying to nudge her over, whimpering sorrowfully.
Chen Shuyin recognized it. This was the stray dog Pei Yu had picked up in his second year of university. Back then, it was nothing but skin and bones, its frail body covered in wounds of unknown origin, its eyes dull and lifeless.
When Pei Yu took it to the vet, he had used the excuse that Chen Shuyin still owed him a fieldwork project and dragged her along.
Chen Shuyin was afraid of dogs and naturally didn’t want to go. She struggled for a long time before finally staying far away, clinging to the glass door as she watched the operation from a distance.
Later, Pei Yu, seeing her genuine fear, stopped forcing her. After sending her away that day, he never brought the dog around her again.
Who would have thought he would even bring it along to film? And he had raised it into such a glossy, healthy creature.
Shivering from the dog’s nudges, Chen Shuyin hesitated. The dog seemed to sense her fear and backed away a few steps. Its dark eyes remained locked onto her, and tears clung to its fur, making it damp and sticky.
Dogs have souls. The heavens knew whether Pei Yu treated it well or not.
A pang of guilt struck Chen Shuyin.
She hazily recalled the look in his eyes when he mourned over the stray dog’s unknown past, the focus with which he meticulously cleaned its fur, and the way his entire face lit up with joy when the surgery succeeded—his lips curling upward in a slow, bright smile. Every scene became clearer and clearer in her mind.
A fleeting thought crossed her mind—maybe he wasn’t that unbearable after all.
At the very least, aside from his manipulative ways toward her, he was, as the world said, a cold-faced but kind-hearted person.
They say heaven envies the talented. Chen Shuyin wouldn’t deny it—she, too, felt an uncontrollable jealousy toward Pei Yu.
He was born into wealth, his career was smooth sailing, and his life was a picture of success. He even donated generously to charity. Even the dog before her—its second chance at life had been given by him.
His perfect life continued to climb higher and higher, stirring up trouble in hers.
Chen Shuyin had cursed him countless times. This man, even if he died, would have died a fitting death.
And now, he really was dead.
It was as if someone had pressed a reset button on her existence. She felt like a balloon floating in the sky, slowly deflating.
If she hadn’t cursed him in anger, if she hadn’t wished for his disappearance, if she hadn’t harbored such dark thoughts… would he have survived?
Disaster from the mouth… She vaguely recalled the words of a fortune teller.
She had been warned.
Chen Shuyin’s eyelids grew heavier. Her world slowly shrank from an oval slit into a single line until darkness swallowed everything. She murmured, “Pei Yu, I don’t hate you… That’s enough now, stop acting.”
The yellow dog circled helplessly in front of her, its mouth shaking the wind chime wildly. The crisp ringing mixed with its sorrowful howls, sounding indescribably mournful.
“Zzz—”
A sudden burst of electric static pierced her ears without warning. The blockage in her hearing was abruptly cleared by fresh, sharp air. Chen Shuyin gasped sharply, clutching her ears.
It hurt.
Both her ears felt as if they had been seared with fire. A sharp, unbearable pain pulsed through her ear canal, spreading all the way to her earlobes.
“Baby, are you okay?” Liu Yiran, noticing something was wrong, quickly yanked off her earpiece while scolding a young man on the other end, “Didn’t I tell you to double-check the equipment? Lu Fang, can’t you be more responsible?”
“Jeez, how was I supposed to know it would short-circuit? It must’ve gotten soaked in the rain last time, and the staff didn’t dry it properly.” Lu Fang rushed over, frowning. “Shuyin-jie, are you okay? Should we take you to the hospital?”
Snapping out of the pain, Chen Shuyin sat up in shock.
Liu Yiran and an unfamiliar young man stood in front of her, looking at her with concern, repeatedly asking if she was alright.
“Yiran?”
“Yeah, are you feeling better?”
She quickly scanned her surroundings. It was an old residential area in the western district of Tanzhu City. The sign on the front gate read: “Anding Nursing Home.”
Why was she here?
“Where’s Pei Yu?” She grabbed Liu Yiran’s hand urgently.
“Pei Yu? Why are you asking about him?” Liu Yiran gave her a puzzled look, then leaned in and whispered, “Shouldn’t you be the one answering that? How would I know?”
Right. Hadn’t she just witnessed Pei Yu’s death with her own eyes?
She reached for her phone, but no matter how she pressed, it wouldn’t turn on.
Liu Yiran noticed. “Your phone’s dead. Use mine.”
She handed her phone to Chen Shuyin, and the moment she took it, the screen lit up.
The time was displayed clearly. Chen Shuyin stared blankly at the numbers—April 1, 2020.
Three years later?
How had three years passed?
A splitting headache wracked her skull, as if something was forcefully cracking it open. Her fragmented memories were a jumbled mess, impossible to piece together. It felt as if someone was hammering at the back of her head, sending waves of pain that made tears stream down her face.
“Lu—Lu Fang, call 120! Can’t you see how much pain she’s in?” Liu Yiran, seeing her in tears, grew frantic.
Chen Shuyin gripped her wrist, stopping her. “No need.”
Liu Yiran sighed. “Are you sure? You’re crying.”
Why couldn’t she remember anything from these three years? Had she simply passed out, forgotten everything in between, and then resumed working?
She flipped her hands over. They were clean, without a trace of dirt. That theory didn’t hold up. She shook her head, eyes downcast. “No, I just thought of him again.”
Liu Yiran smirked. “Wow, Chen Shuyin, are you showing off your love now?”
This is a dramatic opening full of mystery and tension! Let me know if you’d like any tweaks or refinements.