(2)

I discovered the content of the first chapter at a restaurant. This article was printed on magazine paper, and that page of paper was used to wrap the fast food I ordered.

I read through that article while gnawing on a chicken leg.

The more I read, the more horrified I became—this was writing the story of my life.

Using a tissue to wipe off the rice grains stuck to the paper, I used scissors to cut it out and saved it in a new notebook.

The reason I named it “Chapter One” was because I wanted to take my own story and continue writing it after this story so similar to mine.

—Somewhere in the universe, is there someone exactly like me?

After finishing the story in Chapter One, I couldn’t help having this thought.

If I were to list my family background, it would be completely identical to the content of Chapter One: parents divorced, father an alcoholic, I was left at my grandparents’ house; grandmother paralyzed, grandfather died in my first year of high school. Even that I lived in a small town and my grandfather used to pedal a tricycle for a living—it was all the same.

If I had to say what was different—I don’t know if the author of Chapter One didn’t write it, or if our worlds have subtle differences: my biological father passed away long ago. Later, my mother left me, leaving me in the care of my biological grandparents. That person who never cared about me and loved drinking was my stepfather.

After my mother left, my stepfather never cared about me again. I had no contact with him whatsoever. Even if I were at my wit’s end, I could hardly imagine going to him for help. And then pushing him into a well because he wouldn’t help.

I think this difference can be ignored—I still believe she is another me. Because whether it was what my mother said to me or the scenes I saw as a child, she accurately wrote them all down.

Oh right, at my school, there was also a “him” I secretly watched.

He had a small mole on his face. Usually he didn’t bully me like the other students did—this was also the same as described in Chapter One. According to what was written, would he actively partner with me in the upcoming group presentation?

This awaits verification…

Oh my god!! It’s true!!

He partnered with me!! I can’t believe it!!

My feelings are so strange.

According to the prophecy of Chapter One, I like him, but ultimately it will be a one-sided crush that comes to nothing.

I’m anxious, yet I can’t control myself from getting close to him. It’s as if I’m doing problems while looking at the answer key in the back of the workbook.

The reason that “he” gave when rejecting the “first me’s” confession has always bothered me.

—Does my “him” also already like someone?

If I could really investigate who that girl is, perhaps I could give up.

After careful observation for a while.

Regarding who he likes—I got an accurate and singular answer.

During breaks, when he went out to stretch, he always looked toward her class’s direction.

During group work, when he logged into his account, I saw his password on the screen was a string of pinyin from a name.

On draft paper he threw away, among scribbled formulas, were hidden some doodles from class—her name, and a cartoon version of her face.

That girl was very close with his older brother. I saw her smiling and talking with his brother, while he was left aside, his expression lonely.

So he’s also very timid.

He doesn’t dare look at her much, doesn’t dare talk to her.

Even though I’m extremely jealous, I have to admit the girl he likes is really excellent.

She’s the class monitor of the neighboring class. At school, her grades rank at the top. She often represents the school in competitions.

I think that girl looks like an ice beauty who walked out of an ancient painting… fair skin, great figure; her long hair is black and straight, usually tied into a meticulous ponytail for school. Her features are exquisitely detailed, like drawn carefully by the finest painter. Her black-and-white eyes show little emotion, and her pale thin lips are always pressed together seriously. She often looks at people with her chin slightly raised, her expression haughty.

She’s not very happy, is she? I rarely see her smile.

Her popularity in the neighboring class isn’t good. You could say, like me, she has no friends in her class. But she’s still so amazing—by ability alone she became class monitor and made her classmates somewhat afraid of her.

I can tell she hasn’t noticed at all that there’s a boy secretly crushing on her.

The small town has been raining continuously for two months.

My mood is as terrible as the weather. I don’t know how much longer these days will continue.

I’ve repeatedly read the content of Chapter One countless times.

Naturally I won’t choose to cheat again, but what was written there about my grandmother dying, and that line “I don’t plan to endure through this rainy season”—both have become a weight on my heart.

Magically, there’s actually someone like me who feels panicked about the long rainy season.

It’s that girl I’ve been observing, the one he likes.

Her recent behavior is like she’s become a different person, abnormal to an eerie degree.

I saw with my own eyes—after school, she ran to the middle of the field and shouted toward the school building: “A flood is coming! July 17th, the entire town will be submerged. Everyone quickly escape to take refuge. This is true, please believe me.”

That previously stern-faced class monitor now frequently loses composure in public, looking panicked, like a startled bird.

She tells everyone she meets: “A flood is coming, quickly leave the town.”

She also said this to me. On my way to school, when I passed the school gate, she grabbed my school uniform sleeve and earnestly urged me. I looked into her eyes—inside was like an out-of-control key hidden away, as if about to release something terrible.

Actually, I believed her a little, because her tone was so certain.

The boy I like looked completely confused about what was happening. He kept hovering around her, his face written all over with worry for her.

Later, I rarely saw that girl at school. Occasionally when I did see her, it was when the school had exams and she would come. I heard that the school felt her behavior was disturbing students about to take exams, so they called her parents and had them educate her.

I successfully took the college entrance exam.

Not having the courage possessed by the me in Chapter One, I didn’t confess to the person I liked.

The good news is, although my home is still a dirty, messy mouse nest, under my careful care, my grandmother hasn’t left me.

There was still a place in my heart that felt uneasy. Before the date the girl mentioned for the flood, I asked a school teacher for her home address and went to her house once to find her.

She and her family had already left this place.

The small town overflowed with rain. The townspeople’s lives continued as normal. The panic the girl had spread was like a small pebble dropping into a lake—it didn’t create any ripples.

The boy I like and I still remain in the small town.

Writing to this point, I always feel I haven’t finished writing. Ever since I discovered the story of “another me” on the fast food wrapping paper, I’ve had a feeling that I’ve been swept into something strange.

What exactly it is, I can’t say.

It reminds me of childhood, beneath the ancient tree, that twig in my mother’s hand. It’s as if I’m dwelling in the world of that twig bent by force.

Sigh, I feel this Chapter Two isn’t written as well as the other me’s Chapter One. Because it’s a continuous record, the content is fragmented. I’m not very satisfied with it.

I’ll stop writing here for now.

I’ll find a safe place to keep my story. If on July 17th no flood occurs, I will return and continue recording my story.