【Mu Zi Zhi Jian】9

Chapter Nine

My body ached, a bone-crushing pain mixed with a piercing, itchy numbness—it was unbearable. I collapsed face down,

everything was black, I had no idea where I was, the only thing I was sure of was that I was lying on damp ground.

That's right, I'd accidentally fallen from the third floor into the nearby wasteland.

Damn it! I couldn't recall any reason why I'd acted so foolishly. A vague feeling crept in that

this accident wasn't simple, but I was too weak to think about it anymore.

...Strange, really? Why hadn't anyone noticed my fall?...

My nostrils were filled with the smell of weeds and mud, a rotten, strange stench that filled my senses and blocked out other

odors; my mouth tasted gritty and sticky, nauseating and unpalatable, I wanted to vomit but couldn't; I heard a whooshing sound in my ears

, and a chilling wind blew against my soaked body, making me shiver.

With a great effort, I mustered some strength and struggled to sit up, using my hands to prop myself up. Unexpectedly,

it was even more difficult than I imagined. Covered in mud, it clung to me like maggots, impossible to remove, not to mention restricting

my movement and expending even more energy.

Like a caterpillar, I wriggled and crawled, finally reaching the concrete after a great struggle. Climbing onto

the road, I collapsed onto my back like a beggar, feeling a strange sense of relief at being alive.

The sky was already dark, the streetlights casting an orange glow that attracted many mosquitoes. The

nearby houses were brightly lit, and the aroma of cooking food filled the air.

"It's evening..." I muttered to myself, "...I'm so hungry!"

After what seemed like an eternity, I gradually got used to the pain, stood up, and limped home with difficulty

.

People often say, "Home is the warmest place."

While this wise saying has its truths, it can sometimes be unexpected.

I rang my own doorbell, feeling strange. It was my own house, yet I had to ring the doorbell, but covered in

mud , I couldn't refuse.

Ding-dong! *Ding-dong!

* My father was there to greet me. We stared at each other; his face was ashen, his lips twitched, and his forehead

was slightly furrowed, seemingly taken aback by my miserable state. However, having weathered many storms in life, he remained

calm and composed. I shrugged, expressing my helplessness, my expression one of utter reluctance

. "I'm back," I said first.

"Hmm…" My father seemed unsure how to comfort me. "Are

you alright?" "What do you think?" I countered.

Just then, I heard my mother run to the door, exclaiming, "Oh dear! Who is it?"

She then saw me.

"…Yi Shang!"

Seeing my appearance nearly made her faint. Covered in mud and utterly exhausted, she didn't

know whether to laugh or cry. Despite her heartache, she stood frozen

, unable to speak.

Then, someone else I hadn't expected ran out.

Damn it! It was Mu Zi.

This little girl actually got home. I didn't dare look her in the eye, because she was definitely

holding a grudge against me for not picking her up at the station. Her expression was initially angry, her little fists clenched tightly, waving them at me defiantly.

Then she noticed my miserable state, her expression softened, turning to worry—probably a change of heart. After watching me

for a while , her mouth suddenly went limp, and she clutched her stomach, bursting into laughter.

That wretched little girl!

"Hahahaha!" Mu Zi laughed until tears streamed down her face: "Yi Shang, are you kidding me?"

I said irritably, "Do you think I would deliberately make myself look like this just to be funny?"

"I don't know... Pfft! Hahaha..." She laughed until she was exhausted, leaning against the wall next to the door: "...

But , it's really funny... Wahahaha!"

The three people in front of me were like totem poles, staring at me without any further action, showing no

intention of helping. I started to wonder, were they really my family and lovers?

My eyebrow twitched, and I couldn't help but ask, "Can...can I come in and take a shower?"

As soon as I said it, my mom finally reacted, rushing inside to grab a towel for me and instructing

, "Get clean first before you come in!"

Then, she stood guard at the door, refusing to let me in.

Uh...why was this the answer?!

Covered in mud, I didn't even have the right to go inside...wasn't that too pathetic?

"There's a tap outside, just take care of yourself," my dad

suggested "Yeah, go wash up quickly!"

"I'll help you," Mu Zi volunteered, but her expression was one of schadenfreude.

I knew this little girl rarely saw me make a fool of myself and didn't want the fun

to end . She quickly turned on the tap, attached the hose, and then sprayed me with water.

Good heavens! It was so cold!

The January night was damp and chilly, and the water spray made it even colder. I wanted to dodge but couldn't, enduring

the jets of water until most of the mud was washed away before I was allowed to enter the house.

I thought this would definitely become a laughing stock for the rest of my life, sigh!

After showering and eating, and once I finished my tasks, I returned to my room, exhausted,

with a thought in my mind:

"Finally, I can rest properly..."

Inside the room, the light green painted walls, the two-door wardrobe, the double bed, the seven-drawer iron desk,

the three-tiered wooden bookshelf, and the dressing table with a world map pasted on its mirror—this was the space I had lived in for almost twenty

years . Suddenly, I felt a sense of familiarity mixed with strangeness.

...It felt like it had been a long time since I had been back to my own room.

On the double bed, Mu Zi didn't notice me enter. Leaning against the wall, she was engrossed in

reading in a languid posture. I glanced at it casually; it looked like a notebook.

I didn't think much of it, because my room was filled with notebooks filled with my writings. There were moods,

essays, short stories, and some scribbles. I really enjoy recording my thoughts in

writing.

Perhaps she's stumbled upon one of my writings that suits her taste, which is why she's reading it so intently…

I sat down at my desk, turned on my computer, and casually asked Mu Zi, "Baby, what are you looking at?"

"..." She remained silent.

Sure enough, as I expected. She didn't answer, continuing to intently look at her notebook, flipping through the pages

slowly but with a serious expression.

Oh well, this little girl is often like this; I'm used to it.

I turned on the computer and browsed the internet, reading the latest news, comics, novels, and so on,

using my favorite reading to dissipate and dissipate the gloom of military service.

Until I finished catching up on this week's reading, I was surprised to find that this little one hadn't finished yet. I couldn't help but feel

annoyed , frowning, wondering what kind of content could make her ignore my presence.

"Mu Zi!" I called her again, but she still ignored me.

A surge of anger welled up inside me, and I turned and leaped onto the bed. Little did I know, Mu Zi didn't even glance at me.

She stretched out her small foot and kicked me in the left cheek, coldly warning me,

"...Shut up!"

The force wasn't light, but it felt humiliating. Seeing my surprise attack fail didn't mean I gave up.

I immediately regrouped and reached out to snatch the notebook. However, she anticipated my next move

, kicking my hand away with her other foot, sighing and soothingly saying,

"Sigh...wait, I'm almost finished reading..."

Her soothing words didn't calm me down. My stubbornness only fueled my desire to forcibly take

the notebook . It seemed like it was time to use force. Unexpectedly, Mu Zi preemptively said,

"Yi Shang, although this story is quite melodramatic, the ending leaves a lingering sadness...I think

it's great ."

My prepared punch felt like hitting cotton; I felt an unpleasant rebound.

Mu Zi's words left me completely bewildered: "Huh? What did you say?"

"Well? This story..." Mu Zi closed her notebook: "...wasn't it yours? No,

the descriptions inside are definitely your writing style."

"...Which story?" I still didn't understand her question: "I've written so many stories, how would I

know which one you're talking about..."

"It's a love story about a rich young master who falls in love with his little cousin... Their first encounter

is actually the heroine raping his own mother in front of him, which really surprised me and has a transitional

effect .

The middle part of the story is a cliché plot: the young master saves his cousin, the two gradually become familiar, and then

develop feelings for each other. It's through his interactions with other women that he understands who he truly loves, and finally, they

unite in body and soul.

I'm not entirely satisfied with the second half; the background of abandoning family for love and leaving home... if you hadn't included the pregnancy and war

elements, I don't know how you would have ended it..."

The familiar plot gave me an indescribable flutter. I touched my chest, as if

I could feel the true emotions of the wealthy young master Mu Zi spoke of… a choice made out of helplessness, not what he truly desired.

Mu Zi continued recounting the story:

“…I quite liked the ending. Returning to his hometown, everything had changed, yet the scenery remained the same, a sense of desolation and

melancholy, a faint sadness, and then, holding hands, promising to grow old together, trembling as they pulled each other together, it was quite moving…”

“Can…can I see it?” I asked Mu Zi for the notebook in her hand.

The more I heard, the more I wanted to know the details, even though I had no memory of it, my body felt an uncanny 　　familiarity

. It was like a story I had personally experienced, but my life had never been like that.

I didn’t understand why I felt so deeply moved.

“Here you go.” With that, Mu Zi tossed the notebook to me.

Black cover, silver lettering. 　　My eyes, which had been filled with confusion, instantly brightened from the moment I saw the book, radiating a clear, ethereal light. 　　…It was that magical diary that had transported me through time! 　　"Wait!" 　　My brain issued a command to refuse, but my outstretched hand was too late. Like a slow-motion movie , the diary landed in my hand in a bizarre curve. It was as if Mu Zi hadn't thrown it to me, but rather the diary had jumped onto my right hand on its own 　　. My memories returned, and a dramatic change occurred instantly. The black diary inflated with a "pop," becoming a giant balloon, then reached its limit and shattered with a "thud," scattering countless yellowed . These scraps surrounded us, like planets orbiting the sun, completely enveloping Mu Zi and me. 　　Mu Zi's eyes were filled with confusion and doubt as she stared at me, who had reached out and then refused. I immediately understood that she wasn't seeing the same scene as me; we were in different parallel universes. Then, I found myself becoming transparent, radiating a red light—my skin, muscles, then bones, leaving only the blood vessels throughout my body, contracting and expanding with my heartbeat, faithfully carrying out their task. 　　The next second, the flying scraps of paper stopped moving, then suddenly began to rotate, all gathering in my right palm, transforming back into the original black-covered, yellowed diary with large silver characters. The pages opened automatically, flipping rapidly until they abruptly stopped on a certain page. 　　Ink-black words leaped out, intertwining into black chains that bound my limbs, exerting an irresistible suction that forcefully pulled me into the diary. 　　I couldn't see or hear, my senses rendered useless, a void. 　　The pulling chains seemed to be leading me into a dark river, upstream, eerily strange. My thoughts didn't stop; I felt the water flowing through my body, a natural sensation. Yet I could breathe, and I wasn't wet. 　　A glimmer of light appeared in the darkness, gradually becoming clearer. I knew I was moving towards the light, guided by the chains . 　　Then, I broke through… 　　"You unfilial son!" 　　The middle-aged man's voice was filled with rage. A feeling of disappointment and frustration permeated the air. Tears streamed down my face uncontrollably, because of this phrase, composed of those five words I understood so well. 　　It was like a sharp arrow piercing my heart. 　　The pain wasn't physical, but... the pain of love!

After the sound, a dark shadow fell. I looked up and saw a club-like object hurtling towards me. I was kneeling,

hands on the ground, bracing myself for the blow.

In an instant, my instinctive resistance overcame my body's submission. Without thinking, I sidestepped

, my left hand rising to block the attack; my right fist, having gathered strength, shot upwards, my knees straightening,

with a "whoosh" as I delivered a powerful uppercut to the man's chin.

"You…"

The middle-aged man's lips twitched, the words stuck in his throat, his eyes slowly rolling back, his

pupils losing their light, and he collapsed, dizzy and disoriented.

This punch was heavier than I had imagined. My heart ached, a wave of guilt washing over me, and tears

streamed uncontrollably down my face.

It hurt, it hurt so much.

"Qing…Lin…" A middle-aged woman was also present, covering her mouth,

staring .

My fists were down; I couldn't bring myself to hit the woman before me.

"I'm sorry."

It was a meaningless apology.

I turned and stormed through the gate, leaving without looking back. I ran through the vast courtyard, but I knew

where . I passed the pavilion, leaped across the stream, and a red brick wall came into view.

Instinctively, I jumped and pushed off, grabbing the top of the wall with both hands, easily clearing it. Soaring through the air,

I couldn't help but look back. It was a familiar Western-style house, and a voice in my heart said:

"Goodbye, my home."

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