Chapter Twenty-Three: Traces to Follow

After owing Jiang Chen such a big favor and taking with her a huge bag of sanitary pads he bought, she felt her skin was growing thicker. Yet, this sensation was strangely familiar, as if she’d experienced it before. She couldn’t understand why Jiang Chen treated her so well, and not just once or twice. After all, he really didn’t seem like the kind of person who would meddle in other people’s affairs.

Lowering her head, she anxiously turned over a troubling question in her mind. If Jiang Chen had been this kind to her in her previous life, and their families had lived so close, how could she not remember him? She could even recall Dong Yulian. Someone as dazzling as Jiang Chen, how could he have slipped from her memory?

“This is just too strange,” Ye Mian murmured softly, unable to resist turning over again in her mind the dream from the night she was reborn—absurd as it seemed, a thread of logic ran through it. Even though it was only a suspicion, a wilder thought began to take root in her mind.

In her past life... had she perhaps lost some of her memories?

Once the idea sprouted, it grew like a towering tree, quickly occupying a significant corner of her heart. She knew it was unlikely, but still, she couldn’t help wanting to find out the truth.

…

The West Alley was only about a ten-minute walk from Ye Mian’s home, but lost in thought, she walked slowly. Just then, a clear, questioning boy’s voice sounded at her ear. “Ye Mian? Why are you alone today? Did your father go back?”

Startled, Ye Mian shivered in the cool autumn air. Looking up, she saw the son of old Zhong, whom she’d seen last time. He wore an innocent smile, sitting on a bench by the street—a typical sunny, cheerful young man. But just like before, seeing him made Ye Mian’s skin crawl, even though his appearance was ordinary and he didn’t look the least bit threatening.

He looked her up and down, his smile broadening. “Why aren’t you talking? Don’t you recognize me? I’m Zhong Qian, your big brother Zhong. We used to play together as kids.”

Goosebumps prickled on Ye Mian’s skin. She did her best not to show her discomfort, forcing a polite smile. “Oh, hello.”

Her lukewarm response made Zhong Qian’s smile falter. “Alright, I guess the little girl’s all grown up now.”

Ye Mian didn’t answer, only nodded slightly and walked past him toward the main road. He seemed to lose interest as well, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking away.

A light rain was falling again, and more people appeared on the main street. Only then did Ye Mian finally relax. These sudden, instinctive sixth senses were exhausting.

…

Once home, Ye Mian closed the door behind her, the sense of safety returning. She set aside her worries and soon felt drowsiness wash over her again.

She was truly exhausted. A sleepless night, an early rise, and several scares from her peculiar sixth sense had drained what little energy she had left. Like a zombie, she climbed to the second floor, buried her face in the soft pillow, and was asleep within minutes.

The sky was damp and gray, the sun never breaking through the clouds. By dusk, the streets were almost deserted; in the old city, wind and rain quickly pooled water on the ground.

At eight in the evening, the window creaked loudly. Hearing the noise, Ye Mian didn’t react at first. She wanted to get up and check, but sleep’s gentle pull was stronger. Wind rushed in through the window; she wrapped herself tighter in her quilt and sank into a peaceful sleep.

Honestly, sleeping on a rainy day was quite comfortable.

Just as she was drifting off again, Ye Mian sensed something was off.

Wait—who opened the window?

A chill ran down her back.

Half her drowsiness vanished in an instant. Out of habit, she didn’t get up immediately. Only after listening carefully for more strange sounds did she grip her phone and get out of bed.

Outside, the wind howled. Rain, mixed with leaves, lashed at the walls and floor, leaving them soaked. Ye Mian checked the window and breathed a faint sigh of relief.

Maybe she’d forgotten to close it before sleeping, and the wind had blown it open.

Her phone buzzed in her hand—a voice call. She glanced at the screen: Jiang Chen.

Without thinking, Ye Mian answered. The next moment, a cool, low voice came through, calm and direct. “Ye Mian, you forgot your shoes.”

Such blunt words left Ye Mian momentarily stunned. Looking down, she saw a pair of large, gray slippers on her feet—far too big, completely ill-fitting.

She stood there, confused for a couple of seconds, then remembered that at Jiang Chen’s house, she’d left her own shoes at the door and gone to wake him up.

So…

It was then.

She’d forgotten to change back into her shoes!

…

She’d been wondering why Jiang Chen was calling her.

Ye Mian felt her whole world go dark.

Oh, god!

How many times could one person die of embarrassment in a single day?

“I’m so sorry!” Ye Mian’s heart was collapsing, but her apology came quickly. She bit her lip. “How about I come pick them up in a bit and return your slippers at the same time?”

Jiang Chen stood at the entryway, picked up his backpack, hesitated for a few seconds, then set it back down. “Alright, if it’s convenient for you.”

“It’s no trouble,” Ye Mian replied with a smile.

But just then, a faint sound reached her ears, so subtle it could barely be heard—the creak of a wardrobe door.

A clap of thunder outside quickly drowned out the noise, but Ye Mian stiffened, her fingers trembling as she gripped her phone.

She hadn’t misheard.

It was impossible to have misheard.

The hinges on her wardrobe were a bit faulty; opening or closing it always made a slight noise. Such a subtle sound could only mean something inside had shifted.

So the window hadn’t been blown open by the wind after all.

Someone had slipped inside.

Don’t panic.

Ye Mian told herself so.

There was no way to run—her wardrobe was right next to the door, and whoever was inside could easily block her path.

Steeling herself, she spoke into the phone again. “Jiang Chen, could you bring them over for me?”

“Hm?”

“It’s raining, and there’s thunder. I’m scared to go out alone.”

As she spoke, her hand crept toward the table nearby—she remembered there was a small utility knife there.

The longer she lived this second life, the more she understood her new body. Without the rigorous training of her past life, she was as fragile as a wildflower battered by the rain. If she faced an adult intruder, the difference in strength would be overwhelming. Without a weapon, she stood little chance.

Jiang Chen’s reply was even and calm. “Alright.”

Failing to find the utility knife, Ye Mian closed her eyes in frustration, anxiety sharpening her voice. “Can you hurry? I need to go out soon.”

After a few seconds’ silence, Jiang Chen frowned at his phone and asked, “Ye Mian? Is something wrong?”

Ye Mian forced a smile into her voice, answering with a nasal “Mm.”

“Don’t hang up. Wait for me.”