#trajectory of my life and everything that ive done the past 3 years has been a result of that day and thats really trippy

[inkybinkyboink]

oh fellas it's essay writing time you know what that means

[cheri-translates]

In Third Person (a translated one-shot)

This one-shot was originally written by 礼里图 on Weibo, who has given me permission to translate it!

“Love possesses not, nor will it be possessed. For love is sufficient unto love.”

[ 1 ]

It had taken great pains to be transferred to the Special Task Force. Your father, with glittering medallions on his chest, was vehemently against you throwing yourself into such a dangerous den. He only authorised the transfer after you threw a fit for several days.

He thought that your stubbornness stemmed from a youthful vigour, and an unwillingness to simply idle away under his protection. But you weren’t that ambitious. While leading an idle life was your ultimate goal, settling down was your life’s ideal.

Well, if it wasn’t for that person.

-

The person waiting for your arrival is Eli. After reading out the word on his name tag, he shoots you a smile, revealing a set of straight teeth as he exudes an aura of gentility. “Nice to meet you, MC. I’m Eli. Follow me. Captain Gavin is waiting for you.”

You thank him, maintaining an external appearance of calm. Trailing behind him, you murmur in your heart: What kind of a paradise is Loveland City? Why are there so many dashing men?

The Special Task Force isn’t large, and you are soon brought to your destination. Eli opens the door for you, and you see the back of someone standing tall and straight near the window. He turns around at the sound of the door opening, wearing a polite smile on his face.

The afternoon sun encases him. Against the light, you are unable to tell for a moment which one is of a lighter colour - his hair or his eyes.

He gives you a mild smile. “Hello.”

Dizziness consumes you, and it’s as though cotton is lodged in your throat. There are so many things you want to say, but you have no idea where to begin.

He doesn’t remember you. You know that.

“MC.. MC, wake up! Don’t go to sleep! The support team is on its way. Wake up!”

The gunshot wound on your lower abdomen is oozing with blood. You seem to be in someone’s arms. Fading in and out of consciousness, you hear someone calling your name in an unpractised manner. You want to respond, but blood rises up your throat the moment you breathe, leaving him to call out on his own.

In this lifetime, no one has ever called your name so many times before. When the helicopter makes its way to the scene, his relieved and slightly trembling voice propels you to struggle in opening your eyes. But all you see is his defined chin and his name tag coated in blood.

“Gavin?”

“Mm?” The man looks at you, slightly confused.

“Oh, mm... hello.” The profile in your memory and the person in front of you separate from each other. You react with a start, responding incoherently.

Fortunately, the other party doesn’t seem to mind your odd behaviour. He offers you his hand in a polite and business-like manner. “I’m Gavin. We welcome you as a member of the Special Task Force.”

“It’s an honour.”

He shakes your hand. His palm is dry and warm - different from the cold attitude he displays.

“Your Evol is stagnation? You can avoid any physical attacks, and within a set distance, you can indiscriminately freeze your opponent’s Evol.”

You hear a sharp intake of breath coming from Eli behind you. Suppressing the sense of pride in your heart, you look at the wad of documents in his hand, and nod.

“It’s a very unique and powerful Evol.” He places the documents on the table. When his eyes flit to yours this time, you can see that the amicableness in them is more genuine. “We welcome you.”

-

[ 2 ]

You came here because of Gavin.

During a special police training drill three years ago, the both of you were allocated to be in the same group. At that time, you were arrogant and condescending, looking down on everyone else. During the self-introduction, you didn’t even bother listening to what his name was. Back then, you were certain that given your abilities, you’d be able to get through this drill alone, even though historical data showed that 90% of the special police failed at this stage.

Your confidence wasn’t grounded in nothing. When it came to practice drills, every Evolver was important. So, there typically wouldn’t be any risky weapons like gunpowder. And you were certain that you could get rid of every Evolver within your range.

It couldn’t be helped. In this line of work, talent triumphed over everything else.

But things were unusual during that practice drill. You never expected that people from Black Swan would infiltrate the drill. He didn’t intend to expose himself, but you had once read about his Evol. 

Young and overly confident, you wanted to stand out, so you pointed him out immediately. Panicking, he chose to fire a gun. Although Gavin had tried his best to control the wind to alter the bullet’s trajectory, he was too far away, and time was too tight. In the end, you received a bullet to your lower abdomen.

That was the first time you had such a close shave with death. Many nights after that, it was only after recalling the warmth of Gavin’s palm on your wound, and that phrase “wake up”, that you could flee from nightmares.

You had to find him.

-

[ 3 ]

The life of a civil servant is a boring one.

“Are there any Grade A or Grade S missions today?”

“Nope.”

After asking Eli the same set of daily questions, you sit in the relatively comfortable office.

Special Task Force missions are split into six levels of difficulty - S, A, B, C, D, E. Grade S and A missions are typically led by Gavin, while Grade B and C missions are led by Eli.

Although your Evol is powerful, you’ve only been sent out on trivial missions during your past month in STF. Perhaps it was at your father’s behest, or because you were a newbie. You’ve always been led by Eli, and don’t get to see Gavin much. The first time Gavin saw you lifting up and Evolver with ease, he subconsciously scratched his nose and said: “Truly an overkill.”

You also found that it an overkill. Which is why you’ve been trying to get yourself roped into more difficult missions.

Each time, Eli would give you a look which said that you were being too thick-skinned. “Miss, it’s a peaceful and legal era we live in. We don’t get that many major cases. Also...”

“Also what?”

“Also, it’s not time for you to be deployed.” Eli points at your name tag, then at his own. “You’re blue. I’m green. When you’re green, I’ll help you make an application.”

“Get lost. You’re the one who’s green! You’ll be green soon!”

[Trivia] In Chinese,  being “green” means that you’re being cheated on.

“Why are you so agitated?” Eli leans closer. “Why are you so sensitive? Do you have a boyfriend?”

Who says boys aren’t interested in gossip? You roll your eyes at him. “Not for now.”

“That means you do have someone you fancy!” Eli nods contemplatively, a knowing look on his face.

You should have someone you like.

At least, if you don’t have a mistaken definition of what "like” is.

-

[ 4 ]

It’s a fact that the swivelling chairs in the office are not suitable for working. After using the chair for nearly a month, you get a stiff neck one day when you get up too quickly.

While laughing at your posture, Eli points you towards the infirmary downstairs, and tells you that there’s a kind-looking elderly physician who is experienced in Dit Da.

When you push open the door, you don’t see the physician. instead, you see Gavin, who you haven’t crossed paths with in a long while.

His face is deathly pale as he huddles on one of the sick beds. He looks incredible drained, and is currently asleep. The back of his hand is hooked onto an IV, and the top half of his body is exposed, bandages wrapped around his torso. His back is covered with pinkish bruises and brown scars, both old and new.

The door suddenly opens from behind, bringing with it a gust of fresh air. 

“Who are you?”

You adjust your breathing quietly, suppressing the urge to retch. You turn around to see an elderly man in his fifties walking in. He should be the physician Eli mentioned earlier.

“Hey! Why is this man asleep?” Before you can respond, the physician walks over, adjusting the flow of the IV, then tugging the blanket upwards slightly.

“What’s wrong with him?”

“Gavin?” The doctor looks you up and down, his gaze settling on your name tag. “STF Member C-24. Are you this fellow’s subordinate?”

“Mm.” You nod, and repeat your question. “What’s wrong with him?”

“Small issue.” The physician holds up the medical record book at the side, pages rustling as he flips through it. “When does this fellow not bring back a body full of injuries after returning from a mission? Do you see that scar on his collarbone?” He gestures at his own collarbone. “If it were three centimetres deeper, it'd have reached his aorta. Even the gods wouldn’t be able to save him.”

Without waiting for you to express your opinion, the physician continues.

“Why are you young people working so hard? You’re already doing such dangerous work, yet you don’t cherish your bodies. Heading out on missions every day and night. Will the Special Task Force cease to operate without Gavin? He’s still in his twenties, yet he’s so tired that he needs to have an IV... ah, did I wake you up?”

You peer at the bed to find that Gavin has indeed been roused from his sleep. His eye bags display layers of fatigue. In a hoarse voice, he asks, “Why are you here?”

“My... my neck is stiff, so I’m here to have the physician do Dit Da for me.”

“...”

The room lapses into silence. Even without lifting your head, you can sense the physician left aghast at the different severity of injuries between the both of you.

“All right.” The doctor sets down the file in his hand, then walks over to you, placing his hands on your neck. “This is simple. Just twist... and done. Hey, why are you crying?” 

The doctor points at your face, stunned. At a loss, he looks at Gavin, as though trying to prove that your tears have nothing to do with him.

You touch your face, and only then discover that your face is damp. Astonished by this involuntary reaction, you use the back of your hands to wipe the wet stains off. But the floodgates have opened, and you just can’t seem to wipe your face clean. In the end, you decide to lower your face, burying it in your palms. 

The tightening sensation in your heart grips you in waves. You have no idea where this sorrow stems from. Or maybe you do. Maybe you have known since a long time ago. 

But you don’t dare to admit it, and especially not in front of this person - that your uncontrollably trembling shoulders have left you feeling ashamed. In countless nights after this, you’ll definitely toss and turn in bed, regretting this moment.

You don’t want him to be curious about why you’re crying. You’re afraid that his curiosity would lead to him uncovering a secret you wish to tell him, but have no idea how to broach.

“Eh... Miss, why are you crying? Did I hurt you earlier?” The doctor sees that you’re crying even harder now, and starts scrambling around for tissues. “I don’t remember exerting that much strength. Ahh, stop crying! I’ll give you some safflower oil?”

“I’m fine...” You summon your entire body’s worth of strength to bring your sobbing to a halt. Doing your best to control your sniffling, your eyes are hazy as you look at Gavin. You ask hoarsely, “Next time, could I go on missions with you?”

Gavin’s gaze lingers on your face for a very long time - until your sniffling gradually disappears. Only then does he ask simply, “The reason?”

“I’m very incredible. I’m really very incredible.” 

Seeing his calm, unmoved expression, I hurriedly rack my brains, and elaborate. “My Evol allows me to control any Evolvers within range, I have a keen perception, and even attained the first place in school.” His expression remains unchanged, and you end with a conclusion, hoping to salvage the situation. “Trust me, Captain Gavin. With me around, you... and the other colleagues from STF will no longer get injured.”

After this speech, it occurs to you that you might have been overly straightforward. You decide to add, “STF lacks an Evolver with spirit. I feel duty bound to answer this call, and step forward bravely.”

The more you speak, the more you feel like you’re building a weak case for yourself, and all you want to do is bury your head into the ground.

As expected, Gavin doesn’t appear to be impressed, and doesn’t even bother altering his expression. In the harsh environment of STF which requires one to numb oneself to life and death, not many people are willing to choose such a path.

But people like you who harbour talent and the mentality of a new soldier wanting to save the world are more common. After all, battlefields always require people who are willing to die in the name of their convictions. They might not be strong, but they are loyal. When it comes to honouring their duty, they are mighty.

He has likely seen too many people similar to you. People who volunteer their services in the heat of passion. With an official tone, he gives you his response. “The STF has its regulations. If you pass the probation period, you’ll naturally have the chance to go on missions with everyone.”

“Also,” he adds. “Reality is much more cruel than what you imagine. Instead of crying over someone else’s wounds, why not think about how to make yourself even stronger - this way, you won’t let yourself or other people get hurt.”

With this, he shuts his eyes, resuming his rest.

He had stapled a non-romantic definition to the reason for your tears. And you have no way of telling him that they were not simply products of a young woman’s fragile emotions.

Crying is a meaningless act, but what else can you do? 

Poverty, coughing, and romantic affection are unable to be controlled.

And you tears are unable to be controlled either.

-

[ 5 ]

Unable to get past the 887th stage of the mobile game, you’re in the midst of strategising your next move when Eli tosses a green ID card onto your office desk. It lands with a “thump”.

You lift your head, looking at Eli as he sits at the desk opposite yours. He throws you a can of beer, and a: “You’re amazing!”

Catching the can, you use a coin to crack it open. The mildly bitter taste flows down your throat, and it’s so cold that you shiver. Even though you already tried suppressing the happiness in your heart, a smile still creeps onto your face. 

“So-so.”

“There’s no need to be so humble!” Eli cracks open his own can of beer. His tone is direct. “I’ve been here for so long, but it’s the first time I met the Director. And it’s all because I assisted a little employee with a transfer. I’m truly basking in your glory.”

You take small sips of the beer, saying the phrase that you once used countless times, and garnered much envy and hate from. “You’ll get used to it.”

Eli bursts into laughter. Before you can roll your eyes at him, he suddenly asks, “Do you like Gavin?”

He’s referring to Gavin. Not Captain Gavin.

You resist the urge to spit out the beer in your mouth. While swallowing it carefully, you crunch the empty can underneath your feet, then toss it into the dustbin situated three metres away. Although it flies in the air in a beautiful arc, it regretfully lands beside the bin.

Eli picks up the crushed can, throwing it into the bin. Then, he holds up his unfinished drink towards you.

“Don’t get so agitated. I was just wondering why someone like you - with such a good family background and powerful abilities - would join a dangerous place offering you such harsh conditions. So I read through your file, and found that you, Gavin, and I were from the same police academy. No wonder you acted a little odd when you met him the first time.. Right from the start, you joined because of him. Right, MC? Or should I call you... Junior?”

You smile, neither admitting nor denying it. Instead, you counter with a question. “Does Gavin know that you’re this gossipy behind his back?”

Throwing his now-empty can into the bin, he straightens his clothes and responds. “Don’t worry. He doesn’t know it yet. It’s a good thing we’re considered friends. So I’d know if he brings you up.” He pauses, then continues. “You should stop caring about Gavin.”

“Why?”

Eli walks over, giving you a pat on the head. “It’s a long story, and I can’t explain it succinctly. In short, if you can forget about him, forget him. If you can’t forget about him, run away quickly. This is the prime of your youth, so there’s no need to waste it on the STF, and there’s no need to waste it on Gavin. Also, we have a Grade S mission tonight, and you’ll be following Gav... Captain Gavin. Make sure you’re prepared.”

Whenever people fall into the river of love, people often say that you shouldn’t waste your youth on one person, as though youth is something amazing. 

But when you think about it, you find that the thing you most cherish in youth, and the thing worth returning to over and over again, is the time you devoted your entire heart to wasting.

-

[ 6 ]

It’s been two months since you last saw Gavin.

In the break room just before the mission commences, you see him decked out in full military gear. He looks so handsome that his picture could be used as promotional material for the National University of Defense Technology.

Expressionless, he scans the team. Finally, his eyes land on you. Furrowing his brows, he asks, “Why aren’t you wearing a bulletproof vest?”

You stare at the new vest at the side, giving him a shrug. “I don’t need it. The enemy can't hurt me.”

Also, you’re worried that the bulletproof vest would be too bulky for your somewhat petite frame.

“Put it on.”

He speaks in a tone which leaves absolutely no room for discussion, and he exudes a rare, imposing manner of a high-ranking official.

Quietly, you pick up the vest and wear it.

Likely sensing that his tone was overly harsh earlier, he steps closer a little unnaturally to explain. “In every mission, there are many uncertain factors. Being overly confident is being irresponsible to yourself.” Saying this, he seems to realise that you aren’t the type of person who would be responsible for yourself. So he adds, “Think about the people who care about you.”

The reason suffices to convince you, although it would have worked better if he had said: “Think about the people you care about”.

-

When you disembark from the vehicle and see a huge, disorderly mass of civilians and Evolvers rushing over, you get goosebumps. 

Evolvers and ordinary citizens have never had a difference in actual strength. The difference lay in talent. Although you were especially terrifying to Evolvers, you couldn’t do much about normal citizens.

On this evening, five of you have been deployed to the scene, and can be considered to be the elites. It shouldn’t be a problem dealing with ten or fifteen Evolvers.

But when you see the vast group of people before you, you can’t help but feel anxious.

“We’ll buy time while waiting for assistance.” Gavin commands in a soft voice, frowning. “I’ve already contacted the armed police. We just need to handle the Evolvers. The civilians will be left to the police.”

Eli and the others nod. Using the car as the base, they form an inverted triangle with you in the middle. This formation takes into account how your Evol provides the strongest assistance. To an Evolver, losing his abilities is akin to being a sheep out of its enclosure.

But your Evol has its weaknesses. And its greatest weakness is you.

You feel dizzy at the sight of blood.

It’s likely a shortcoming resulting from the time you were shot in the abdomen and felt warm blood gushing out of your wound. Since then, whenever you see a patch of crimson or smell the scent of blood, you’d feel dizzy and experience heart palpitations.

Which mission wouldn’t involve blood?

You force yourself to concentrate on the swarming flood of enemies as they rush forward, so that you can use your abilities at the earliest possible instance.

Gavin is standing on your left. It’s obvious that he is on the alert. The veins on his arms are evident, and the surrounding wind rustles from his Evol.

The battle is about to begin.

The other side has also come prepared. Knowing about the existence of someone harbouring the “stagnation” ability, they plan to adopt a human wave attack. But Gavin’s wall of wind prevents them from taking a step closer. Naturally, most of the firepower is targeted towards him, preparing to break your team’s small but sturdy formation by taking him down first. 

You know that Gavin has always been good at fighting, even though many claimed that he rose to his position at such a young age because of his father. But how could the glory of one’s family bless one from escaping death time and time again?

However, even the most fearsome lion isn’t impervious to the bite of a stray dog. He’s gradually unable to hold off the firepower. A small tear appears in the wall of wind. And this is the chance the other side has been waiting for. Without a hint of hesitation, someone takes aim and shoots at the hole. It’s too late for the team to react, and they can only watch as the bullet whizzes towards Gavin.

You lunge forward without a thought. 

Perhaps you were always waiting for this moment, ever since you saw him wounded in the infirmary.

You’re not brave.

But you like him.

And it’s precisely because you like him that you’re brave enough to move forward.

The collision of the back of your head with the solid car results in an earth-shattering noise. The sudden sharp pain makes you blank out for a few seconds, and you hear someone calling your name loudly before you sink into a boundless darkness. 

-

[ 7 ]

When you regain consciousness, you’re in the hospital. Eli is sitting at the edge of the bed, paring an apple.

Noticing your gaze, he responds before you can even open your mouth. “I know what you’re going to ask. Gavin was here earlier, but left after the doctor said you were fine. There are still many things he has to deal with.”

You nod, eyes drifting to the drip tube attached to your hand.

“You’re okay, just a mild concussion. It’s a good thing you had the bulletproof vest on, or you’d be in the ICU right now.” He hands you a poorly pared apple. “Was it worth it?”

Goosebumps appear on your skin at his words, which sound as though they were extracted from a soap opera script.

You take a huge bite of the apple, the sour yet sweet juices filling your mouth. “Don’t ask me whether it was worth it. Ask if I’m happy or not.”

Not waiting for Eli to respond, you continue. “I’m happy. I was able to do something for him. I did it gladly.”

Eil’s hand trembles slightly, then he pats the top of your head gently. “You’re truly a fool...”

-

Later, Gavin pays you a visit. You’ve just woken up from a sweet dream, and the sky is already darkening. He’s standing at the window in a daze. Although you wish to stare at him for a while longer, he’s too sharp, and quickly realises that you’re awake.

“Feeling better?” He turns around and asks.

You nod.

He draws the curtains, letting the remnants of sunlight stream in. Then, he picks the sofa farthest away from the bed, and sits down. You know what he’s going to talk about.

“I hope this wouldn’t happen again.”

It’s exactly what you expected. You shut your eyes. In a hoarse voice, you defend yourself. “You don’t need to care about it.”

After all, you did it willingly.

He frowns and glances at you, as though he’s trying to find the correct words to say. Finally, he leaves you with a stiff sentence. “You don’t need to sacrifice yourself for other people.”

You smile, wanting to respond with: “But you aren’t 'other people’”.

After thinking about it for a very long time, you decide that you lack the guts to say it. 

In the end, you respond with what’s expected of you.

“Got it, Captain Gavin.”

-

[ 8 ]

It’s an old STF tradition to gather for a meal after a successful mission. When you see Gavin dealing somewhat awkwardly with the service staff’s overly enthusiastic ‘interrogations’, you feel like chuckling.

The world works in strange ways. Just a week ago, you were at death’s door. But right now, you’re standing here, watching as Gavin struggles between a half-spicy and half-mild hotpot or a mala hotpot.

Truly, the most ordinary things bring the most comfort.

Foodies love talking about their feelings over a meal. Before, you had mostly interacted with Eli. In the span of a single meal, however, you find yourself growing much closer to the team. Gavin is exceptionally quiet at the table. The person whose expression doesn’t change when faced with ferocious enemies, the most difficult circumstances, is currently red in the face and neck from the spiciness of the dishes. Even the tip of his nose is coated in a sheen of sweat.

He looks ravishing. It’s the first time your heart has fluttered so much during a meal. He seems to be ill at ease, and keeps checking his phone.

In the middle of the hotpot, you receive a call from your father. Gripping your phone, you head to the only quiet spot you can find.

After exchanging a few words with your father, you hang up. 

The clamour from outside drifts over, and you rub your slightly swollen temples. Suddenly, you don’t really feel like going back. You’d rather embrace this rare moment of tranquility.

Coincidentally, once this thought flits through your mind, you hear footsteps approaching. You’re standing on one of the higher stairs, which happens to be cloaked in shadows. If one doesn’t pay attention, they wouldn’t be able to spot you.

The owner of the footsteps leaves you frozen in place.

It’s Gavin.

He has removed his jacket, and is only wearing a white t-shirt. The look in his eyes is even deeper than the shadows. Ever since the two of you reunited, this is the first time you get the chance to observe him from such a close distance.

He coughs lightly at the seemingly empty corridor, then takes out his phone, preparing to make a call.

Despite this unexpected turn of events, you have no intention of eavesdropping. However, making an appearance now would just make things awkward.

While you’re still mulling over what would be the best course of action, the line gets through. 

It’s as if someone flipped a switch on him.

For the first time, you see a gentle expression on his face.

“What are you up to?” He says softly, reminiscent of someone afraid of waking another from a dream.

You can’t hear what’s being said on the other end, but you can see his tender gaze and the insuppressible tugging at the corners of his lips.

“Just coming off a mission. I'm tired.”

He leans against a railing next to the stairs, subconsciously loosening his tie. At this moment, all his accumulated fatigue finally pours out in torrents.

He doesn’t say much after this. A faint smile lingers on his face. It seems the person at the other end of the line is planning something, and his smile grows more and more evident as he keeps agreeing with “mm”, “sure”, “anything you say”.

In the end, he glances at his watch, realising that he doesn’t have much time left. Softly, he says, “It’s late. Rest early. Goodnight.”

It’s a beautiful scene - giving someone a call after a busy day of work, talking about weekend plans, sharing each others’ lives, and basking in the joy of having someone concerned about you.

The only regretful thing is that the person on the other end of the line isn't you.

-

[ 9 ]

Only after a long while after Gavin leaves do you drag your numb feet out of your hiding spot. You spot Eli at the end of the corridor, smoking a cigarette. He looks you up and down, as though trying to verify something.

“Are you okay?” He asks hesitantly.

“I’m fine.”

The moment the words leave your lips, you feel your face heat up. Tears spill from your eyes, and you use the back of your hands to wipe at your face.

“It’s just an old habit. I'm like this whenever I get too emotional. Could you give me a cigarette? It’d help me calm down.” You explain, realising that Eli has no idea what happened.

With a conflicted expression, Eli retrieves a cigarette box from his pocket. He picks one cigarette bud and hands it to you. Placing it between your trembling lips, he lights it. It works wonders. The moment you inhale, you feel your entire body immersed in a warm scent. Encased in smoke, you hear Eli speak. “The last time, I mentioned that it was a long story. But if you want to hear it, I can cut it short.”

“I want to hear it.”

“That person is his junior. Gavin has known her for many years, and has liked her for just as many years. All these things you're doing...” He glances at you, then lights a new cigarette. “They don’t mean much to him. You saw the way he looked when he was making the call, right? It’s only for one person in the entire world. Nobody else.”

The tears surge forth once again. While you rush to wipe them away, you berate Eli. “Damn it! Why can’t you be more considerate to how I feel?”

Seeing that you’re crying even more fiercely, he stops his cutting remarks. Instead, he tousles your hair, then rifles through his wallet for a picture of Gavin. “It’s not for sale. I’ll give it to you as a souvenir.”

You take the photograph from him. It’s one that was taken a very long time ago, and its edges are curled. Under the dim lights, you take this old photograph in your hand, and are transported to the time of Gavin’s youth. He’s standing on the roof of the school, his blue and white uniform blowing with the wind. One hand is on the railing, and another is holding on to a paper airplane. With a slight smile, he turns back to look at the camera. Behind him is the azure sky.

Back then, none of these regrets blossomed yet.

“I don’t know if I appeared too early, or too late.”

Eli stares at you, his gaze sympathetic. “Sometimes, it’s not about whether you’re early or late. I’m not sure if you’ll understand if I put it this way - There won’t be another person. There’s only her. Gavin isn’t the sort of person who would like someone because they treat him well. It’s only when he likes someone that he'd accept that person’s kindness.”

“But,” he continues. “Even if the ending remains the same, you can change its course. After all, if you want a wound to heal completely, the best way is to remove the rotten areas. Perhaps what other people say is useless. You could try listening to his answer directly.”

You nod.

Loving someone requires devotion. One will always have to experience all sorts of hardship before it can come to fruition.

-

[ 10 ]

By the time you and Eli return, the meal has almost reached an end. Your colleagues are preparing to head over for karaoke next door. When you are all packed into the lift, you happen to stand behind Gavin. He has his jacket on, and his sleeves are pulled up, revealing a black plaited bracelet on his wrist. No matter how slow-witted you are, you’re able to recognise that it’s part of a couple set advertised by a certain brand a long time ago.

Behind you, a couple of drunk colleagues start causing a ruckus and bumping against your back. In the crowded lift, you shuffle your feet, trying to steady yourself, and trying to maintain a certain distance between the two of you.

Sometimes, you can’t comprehend your strange ego and pride. You’ve seen girls showering the guys they like with gifts, and wearing beautiful dresses to invite them out to movies. But you’ve never thought of imitating them. You’d even secretly celebrate when they get rejected - You were so glad that you were different from them.

But today, you realise that you aren’t that different from them. You aren’t even as candid as they are. 

The lively atmosphere is a stark contrast to your mood. Upon entering the karaoke room, you find a corner and isolate yourself with popcorn. Despite giving out clear signals that you’d rather not be disturbed, the officers pull you over to play ‘Truth or Dare’, calling it a necessary rite of passage for new members.

The rules are simple - when the mouth of the bottle points at you, you have to choose to answer a question truthfully, or do a dare.

You have very good luck, and the bottle continually points at other colleagues, and you get to hear all sorts of gossip, and witness several 'dares’.

After a while, the person responsible for spinning the bottle starts targeting you. When the mouth of the bottle finally points at you, you actually heave a sigh of relief.

It’s better to get this over and done with.

Without any hesitation, you pick ‘dare’. After all, there’s too big of a risk in choosing ‘truth’. A bespectacled colleague reads out your task. 

“Choose one guy in the room, lean in close to his ear, and say the words: ‘I love you’.”

You freeze in place, a million emotions bustling in your heart.

Honestly speaking, you never really believed in coincidences before. You felt that these were just things used to dupe the superstitious. But at this moment, this meaningless game started making you believe that coincidences do exist. 

Perhaps this is what people often call “fate”.

In the midst of the hooting from the audience in response to your task, you deliberately ignore the conflicted expression on Eli’s face. You stand up while your colleagues whip out their phones, ready to snap pictures and videos. They’re all ready to, as usual, capture memories they can look back on fondly each year.

Everyone is exuberant, and nobody notices your apprehension.

Your eyes fall on Gavin, who is seated at a corner. His brows are knitted slightly, expression indifferent. The black earrings on his ears reflect the cold light. When he doesn’t speak, he gives off an aura of not being close to anyone.

You imagine how he must have been like in high school - a bad boy with his hair dyed, riding a motorcycle, causing a ruckus in school, attaining poor grades, and always pretending to be cool by having earplugs in his ears while sitting at the corner of the classroom.

Until this day, a certain impatience can still be felt from this man. It’s very obvious, and can be noted with a single glance.

When your colleagues realise that your target is Gavin, the clamour grows even louder. Choosing a superior as a target of a dare - they must think that you have a playful spirit. You pause before Gavin, and the exaggerated exclamations are about to burst through the roof.

But when you muster the courage to lean in Gavin’s ear to say that phrase “I love you”, the surroundings lapse into silence almost immediately.

Maybe your expression was too serious. Maybe your tone was too sincere. Either way, everyone’s reaction tells you very clearly - you messed it up. The colleagues who were holding up their phones earlier in anticipation are now feeling awkward and not knowing what to do.

All is quiet. 

That is, until Eli breaks the silence. “This round doesn’t count - it’s so boring. Let’s change the target. MC, what about me?”

Gavin purses his lips into a slight smile, patting Eli’s hand which is resting on his shoulder. “Get lost. Don’t use our female colleagues to joke around.”

With this, the tension in the air dissipates. Everyone diverts the topic, and they begin the next round.

In the next few hours, you drink a lot. You puke a lot too, and it feels as though your guts are about to spill out.

Eli is the one who sends you home. He supports you into the car, and you hear Gavin telling him softly, “Give me a call when you’ve reached.”

Because of what he says, you end up crying all the way home. 

To you, he’s the perfect superior. A worthy comrade-in-arms. A righteous stranger. But he’ll never a reliable lover.

That night, you have a dream about Gavin.

In it, you can’t see his face clearly. He’s wearing a loose school uniform, and is alone in the basketball court, dribbling a ball, a plaster on his hand.

It’s a very realistic dream.

You’re sitting afar off and watching him. Occasionally, the ball would roll to a place near you. When you finally think of picking it up, you see Gavin running over. He’s so close that you can see strands of sweat-drenched hair on his forehead. You try reaching out to touch him, but you just can’t do it. It’s as though there’s a transparent film between the two of you. No matter how close you are, you can only be a member of the audience.

When you wake up, you’re facing the ceiling. Someone once told you that you’d forget the contents of your dreams the moment you turn. So you lie stiffly for a very long time, trying to remember as many details of the dream as you can.

Sunlight streams in through the curtains.

You finally turn to your side, and tears stream down the side of your face.

Even in dreams, you can’t obtain a happy ending.

-

[ 11 ]

After that night, because of your father’s position and how you faint at the sight of blood, you are quickly transferred to a commanding post instead of having to be deployed on missions. 

In an instant, you become Gavin’s superior.

Unlike in fiction where female superiors who experience unrequited love torment the target of their affections, or use their position to seduce them, you have no intention of doing so. Instead, you simply treat him much more coldly than a normal superior would.

Occasionally, in the middle of night, you’d have the urge to ask him a question.

"Why can’t it be me?”

But you know that this question has been buried in the last page of your diary, hidden in the corner of your bookshelf. It decomposes in your innermost heart - a place where no one has ever seen.

Because you already know the answer.

On the night when make-believe turned out to be reality, you had leaned in close to his ear, and said “I love you” in a trembling voice. Back then, he had turned his face away slightly, his expression grave and stern, reminiscent of the marble stone that you used to touch when you were small.

You know that it’d never be you.

-

Sometimes, when Eli takes Gavin’s place to give reports, you’d pull him out for a meal and drinks.

On one particular evening when you had drunk quite a fair amount, he leaned on the table and looked at you. “Have you let go?”

You secretly stole a prawn from his plate. While munching on it, you responded, “I’ve let go.”

You truly have.

Which is why afterwards, when you and Gavin were selected as stellar graduates to return to your alma mater and give a speech, the emotions in your heart were not turbulent. 

You vaguely remember that the sunset on that day was very beautiful.

The yellowish golden sun was gradually disappearing below the horizon, as beautiful as a painting - the most beautiful sunset in your life.

He stood by your side with a depth in his eyes - the most detailed stroke in this painting, etched onto your heart.

Although you tried to suppress the urge, you decided to speak. “I always hoped to get a chance to return to this place with you again. I didn’t think it’d come true. I’m left with no regrets.”

He frowned slightly. Even though he tried to conceal it, you could sense a twinge of awkwardness. He looked as though he wanted to speak, but didn’t. 

You chuckled.

“I once thought that the reason why I came to STF, why I went on missions with you, and helped you take that bullet, was for you. But now I know that it was to complete myself.”

“I don’t need a response from you. In my years of youth, meeting someone like you was already my fortune.”

He froze, lapsing into a long silence. In the end, he says: “Thank you.”

His shoulders relaxed, as though he had set down a large boulder, and was relieved of a heavy load. 

You had nothing much to regret. What’s there to regret? As compared to yourself, you’d prefer for him to get what he wanted.

Thousands of years ago, a poet called Su She once said that the flow of the river and the waning of the moon are simply temporary changes. From a broader, long-term perspective, they are never-changing. 

When you first heard it, you weren’t able to draw any lessons from it.

But when you flipped through Khalil Gibran’s collection, you were finally enlightened. After being troubled for so many years, everything finally made sense with just one sentence.

Gibran said: “Love possesses not, nor will it be possessed. For love is sufficient unto love.”

-

[ Permission to translate ]

礼里图: You can move it over if you state the source. It’s even better when more people can like it~

[offaeandcreation]

Sleep-Deprived College Student Becomes World's Strongest Cultivator By Bullshit Means

Summary:The last thing WanLi An (Ani) expected was to a) die in the most pathetic and ridiculous manner, b) wake up in the body of a villain destined to be beheaded in a war of their own making. Of course with Ani's luck, that's exactly what happened. Now Ani finds herself the ruthless, morally-questionable at best, leader of Qishan Wen, rearing two bratty children, while pretending that yes, she is absolutely Wen Ruohan. Nothing to see here! Everything is just fine. Except the universe isn't done making her life hell. "For fuck's sake, I just wanted my degree!"

Chapter 1: Holy Fucking Shit

1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11+ 

Content Warnings: Death, Mourning, Dirty Jokes

AO3

On my gravestone, I want the following epithet: Murdered by heels via the eighth floor window. Gravity was a co-conspirator. 

There she flew, like an outtake of 'It's a Wonderful Life', skirt flapping in the wind harder than a can-can dancer's. Ani, known to her angry mother as WanLi An, was NOT about to become the world's next human pudding if she had any say about it. She reached for the psychology department’s brick edges, anything to stop the fall that ended in concrete. 

Supergirl, now’s your chance! Fulfill my lesbian dream!  

As she waited for the inevitable hero to come swooping in, a familiar object flew past her like from the Rabbit Hole scene in ‘Alice in Wonderland’: the softcover book she’d been reading, glossy title flashing its Chinese characters, ‘Mo Dao Zu Shi’.  

Oh ya, I could learn to fly on a sword!

She made a grab at it but missed, watching the wind sweep it away. Another possession flew into Ani’s line of sight: a pink tote bag with the words ‘Happy Birthday’ written on it – for A-Li. His meringues packed inside, made just for him to stuff his face with with the intention of proving that yes, he can fit five in his mouth now, all came flying out. The wind clearly wanted to take them for itself. 

Those are for A-Li you air-bag! 

Waving her arms around, she tried to reach for the helicoptering meringues with much gusto and much failure.The whistle in her ear might as well have been snickering.  

A photograph slipped into Ani’s line of sight taken back in China of her entire family: her parents, grandmother, A-Li, days before her father died. 

The wind stole the air out of her lungs. Ani lunged out for the photo, stretching as far as she possibly could while having no anchor. Fingertips brushed it as it flitted into the wind’s grasp, leaving her outstretched hand empty, small.  She lunged again, muscles bulging as she strained towards the closest corner. Failure. The wind howled in laughter. 

No! No don’t do this! 

Ani screamed at the wind that tore at her, at the grey sky that looked at her with no mercy. 

I’m going to die. I can’t die- Grandmother, I can’t! Not now. I have to take care of A-Li–

A single tear kissed her cheek before floating in the air, too light to fall, before she plunged into the concrete. 

Xxxxxxxxxx

Ani’s eyes shot open, a gasp escaping her lips. Her heart pounded into the pillows she was lying face-first in, breathing as if she’d just woken up from a nightmare. 

She was in bed. At home. Safe. Her muscles relaxed, sinking into the mattress beneath-

Something hard resisted against her body, as if the mattress was more akin to a wooden board then memory foam. She blinked, allowing her hands to wander the bed, pressing and feeling against silky bedding. 

This isn’t my bed- 

Wait.

She shouldn’t even be in bed.

 Ani lunged out for the photo, stretching as far as she possibly could without an anchor. Fingertips brushed it as it flitted into the wind’s grasp, leaving her outstretched hand empty, small.  She lunged again, muscles bulging as she strained towards the closest corner. Failure. The wind howled in laughter. 

She should have died.

I fell. 

I fell eight stories. 

I fell eight stories onto concrete.  

Ani sat up, finally looking where she was lying. She was in a large bed with a thick, silky, maroon blanket – something that her grandmother would have owned.  

What the fuck?

Ani looked up. Wooden beams criss-crossed above her, holding up a low ceiling made of an unknown dark wood. 

Why was there a ceiling? Wasn’t I just seconds ago falling out of a building into the concrete, outside? Where no ceilings could exist? 

Ani crawled towards the edge of the bed to take a good look. 

It wasn’t a ceiling, but a wooden canopy, with ostentatious diamond and floral engravings, accompanied by transparent red and black valance.  

Where am I?

Ani finally looked up from the bed. Her eyes bulged. Three college classrooms couldn’t have fit within this single bedroom. 

 Beyond the bed, a built-in nightstand had been covered in glass bottles, some small as pennies and others like glass blown art, and torn white sheets . 

 Bandages perhaps? I’m supposed to be in a hospital…? This doesn’t look like a hospital bed.

Beyond, silky red and woolen carpets decorated the dark floors.  Across the room, a large table sat perpendicular to the wall covered in stacks of scrolls.

Some regular-old New York City hospital most definitely wouldn’t have this – a waste of space and money. 

Ani blinked. Where was the IV drip? The heart monitor? White curtains? The sink? The putrid smell of alcohol and plastic? Flowers? She definitely deserved flowers. Especially after everything. 

What sorry excuse of a hospital is this?! An alt-medicine hospital?Did they give me acid? Was the whole accidentally-falling-out-of-a-building-from-the-top-floor-because-why-not sequence a dream? 

Ani rubbed her eyes to make absolutely certain she wasn’t indeed hallucinating. Except, her hand felt strange, as if someone attached weights to them without asking her permission. Ani pulled at them with more force, until she smacked herself in the face. She hissed in pain, glaring at her stupid hand-

What. The. Fuck.

This wanna-be-Micky-mouse-glove abomination was abso-fucking-lutely not her hand. She brought it close, staring at the long pale fingers, razor sharp nails –absolutely a lesbian hazard – and delicate wrist. It was at least twice the size of her face, and felt…foreign. Flexible, catching more air. Ani was pretty sure she could make shoes out of these hands and comfortably walk in them and with room.

She brought up her other hand in comparison. To her utter horror, they matched!

Ani closed her eyes, hoping that somehow to conjure up her smaller, tanner, lesbian-friendly hands. She opened one eye, her kernel of hope popping 

Nope. 

Either Ani was tripping very hard on acid to the point that her brain forgot the importance of clipped nails, or she’d fallen eight floors and needed a transplant and the only thing available were these man-hands. 

Cold pooled in Ani’s gut. Ani tossed off the blankets, scrambling to her feet. She ran towards the golden mirror attached to a nearby vanity. Despite skidding to a stop, her torso continued its trajectory until she face-planted into the floor. 

“Fuck,” she bit out. 

The sound that came out of her mouth was not the familiar timbre of her voice. She coughed and spoke again. 

“Hello.” 

It sounded so wrong. Ani spoke a few more words– “Hewwo,” “Nya-Nya,” “Nico Nico Nii,” “Motherfucker,”– before taking a deeper breath. No matter what sounds she made, the voice remained low like a choral bass singer. As low as her father’s had been. Tears welled in Ani’s eyes as she slowly tried to get to her feet, head spinning.

What’s happening? Why are my hands weird? Why is my voice weird! 

 Even her feet were weird: pale and big like her hands. Sweat prickled at the back of her neck, trickling down her back into the collar of white robes that fell to her calves. She never could afford something like this.

 Nor did hospitals supply silk robes. 

 She brushed the robes aside as she got to her knees, her jaw throbbing, and faced the golden mirror. 

The face that stared back at her wasn’t her own. 

It was a face of man, with bright, unnatural scarlet eyes. 

The mirror broke. 

Xxxxxxxxxxx

Ani flinched at the violent crack. She looked behind her, searching for whatever had broken the mirror. Outside of the table and a sliding-door that led to who-knows-where, there was nothing that could have caused the damage. 

She closed her eyes, counting to ten. Reopened them. She closed her eyes, counting to twenty. Reopened them. The same unknown male face stared back at her: long oval face, messy bed-head black hair, and vivid crimson eyes, tinted slightly by the color of the mirror. Not the round face, short dark hair and eyes that she has seen in the mirror every day for twenty-three years. Not the face she preferred. 

Red eyes? Seriously? Red? Hardly realistic. 

Not even albino irises were this intense. She backed away from the mirror, coming into the body’s full height. At least twice her height - which explains the sheer size of her hands and feet. 

At least I’ll be able to reach the top shelves without being laughed at. 

The thought quickly scurried away the longer she looked at herself. The mirror mimicked every move she made. The cracks distorted her figure– no, the man’s figure. 

What’s happening? What’s going on? Why am I in this body? Is this a hallucination? 

Ani mentally ran through all her psychology courses until she had an idea. 

Wait, there is still one more test. People who suffer from delusions often attempt to use other senses to figure out if they truly are seeing what is in front of them. So if this is all a delusion- 

Shutting her eyes, Ani stuck her hand between her legs-

Yup. That was most definitely not there before. I’m in a man’s body. Confirmed. 

She groaned, sinking to the floor in defeat, resting her head on the table. Leaning her head back, she noticed the scrolls wrapped in beige ribbons.  

Perhaps these documents will tell me what the hell is going on. 

She pulled at the ribbons, looking for something, anything that could give her answers. She scanned the unfurled parchment, noticing a collection of vertical lines, occasionally underlined once or twice that made no sense to her. Dates? 

She could understand the Chinese characters, except the style was clearly more archaic, with words that would never be used in any book that would be found at home. Except the older poetry books, because poets like to be pretentious know-it-alls. 

Ani looked for writing utensils, except instead of finding pencils and pens that every self-respecting person would have, she found only bamboo brushes. 

‘Want to learn?’ a memory itched at the back of her mind, floating to the surface. 

Her grandmother had returned from Beijing, eyes crinkling with a smile that her bright blue face mask hid. Ten-year old Ani cried out in happiness, rushing towards the open door in only her purple floral pajamas. Her father grabbed her before she could topple her grandmother with an unexpected bear hug. 

‘Ani, Ani, look what I brought you,’ she said with a familiar grin the moment she pulled down her mask under her aging chin.

From a plastic bag, she removed several shiny brushes, the bamboo wood birch-yellow, polished to a shine, and the bristles a variety of browns and white, pointy like a pencil.  

Her grandmother handed them to her, ‘Now Ani, these are the brushes of our ancestors, they used to work with these so long ago to make beautiful calligraphy. Want to learn?’ 

With careful fingers, Ani lifted one of the brushes, running her finger over the bristles and the smooth handle. These weren’t the brushes her grandmother gave her – the handles weren’t as dark nor as smooth as the wood lacked the sheen polish that modern brushes had, and the bristles were more frayed – not supported by synthetic material. These weren’t her grandmother’s brushes but- 

“Am I…in the past?” 

She scanned the space around her, searching for any sign of modern technology. A fireplace, a wardrobe that most probably cost at least a quarter of her tuition, mats that most definitely were made of organic material, not the synthetic fibers of the modern age. There wasn’t a single modern artifact in the room.

“I’m in the PAST?” Ani cried out, tearing at her hair, “How did THIS happen?” 

Her heart beat pounded in her ears. How? How? How? How! 

“Sect Leader Wen!” 

Ani yelped, grabbing  a bronze candle holder as the door slid open. She backed up into the mirror, glad it hadn’t shattered earlier. Assuming whatever entered the room wasn't trying to kill her, the last thing she needed was to pay for broken property just because she stared too hard at the mirror. 

A man with dull robes walked in on his knees. Their eyes met and he fell into a bow, face first into the hard wooden floors. 

“We are pleased to see you awake Sect Leader!” 

Yes, I’m sure you are. 

 “Physician Wen is being notified now,” he continued. “Is there anything that we can do for you in the meanwhile, Sect Leader Wen?” 

Luckily, the servant was too busy digging his nose into the floor and quivering like a vibrator to notice the way her mouth dropped along with the candle. 

Sect Leader…Wen? 

The name was familiar. Too familiar. She looked past the servant, above the door to the banner that decorated the walls. 

The sun symbol. 

A stone dropped into her stomach. She hadn’t just traveled into the past. She’d transmigrated into the world of Mo Dao Zu Shi. 

As Sect Leader Wen Ruohan. 

Who was destined to die.