Chapter 44: Become Me

The black Maybach glided to a stop by the roadside.

A few seconds later, the car door opened.

Only when the greasy smell of the night market drifted in through the open door did Jiang Yueming feel his chaotic thoughts settle slightly.

Xia He sat beside him, looking at him with concern. “Are you really okay?”

“I’m fine. It’s just a scrape. A band-aid will do,” Jiang Yueming said as he got out of the car. “You should head back first.”

“How about coming to my place instead? I’ll have Aunt Chen treat it for you. Otherwise…”

“I’m really fine. Don’t worry.” Jiang Yueming cut her off. “Just drop me here. See you tomorrow.”

Xia He still wanted to say something, but seeing Jiang Yueming’s insistent attitude, she could only give up.

“Then… okay. See you tomorrow.”

The car door closed. The Maybach started its engine and slowly drove away, soon disappearing around the corner up ahead.

Jiang Yueming withdrew his gaze and let out a long breath, carrying exhaustion all over his body as he walked toward the entrance of the residential complex.

The elevator doors opened. He reached the third floor, walked down the long corridor, and returned home. He threw his backpack down and collapsed onto the sofa.

He stared up at the ceiling in a daze until black afterimages began appearing in his vision from the white woven lamp. Only then did he look away.

“Today was really terrible.”

He muttered to himself. His body felt sticky and uncomfortable. He had sweated a lot today and gotten covered in dust in the alley. It was unbearable.

He should take a shower and go to bed early.

He got up and went to the bathroom. He turned on the shower faucet. After white steam filled the bathroom, he took off his clothes and stepped under the showerhead.

Hot water poured down from above, flowing over his body and carrying away the fatigue of the day.

The moment the water touched the skin of his left arm, a sharp stinging pain suddenly came from there.

Jiang Yueming frowned and raised his hand, but he didn’t find anything unusual on his arm. The skin was smooth, with no redness or swelling. It looked completely normal.

As the water temperature gradually rose, that stinging sensation actually became more and more obvious. It was as if there were countless tiny invisible wounds on his arm, densely covering the entire limb.

“Hiss——”

Jiang Yueming sucked in a breath of cold air and moved his hand out of the water’s path.

He rubbed that patch of skin with his right hand. The pain became even more distinct. Jiang Yueming’s brows furrowed tightly. He rubbed harder and harder.

His skin turned red and swollen from his actions, but he still didn’t stop. The force in his hand grew stronger and stronger.

Suddenly, his vision blurred for a moment.

“What’s going on?”

He saw his left hand seem to flicker for a split second.

It was like some kind of 3D projection being interfered with, causing a glitch. His arm distorted for an instant before returning to normal.

Jiang Yueming slowed his breathing and rubbed that patch of skin again.

That strange image appeared once more.

This time he saw it clearly. A semi-transparent data-like layer was covering the surface of his skin. His fingers were rubbing it, causing it to twist and deform.

His movements became faster and faster. The projection seemed to resist the intrusion, but after flickering twice, it finally disappeared, revealing what lay beneath.

A bloodied arm appeared before Jiang Yueming’s eyes.

Knife wounds. Countless knife wounds.

Starting from the wrist and extending all the way to the elbow. Horizontal. Diagonal. Vertical. Some arranged in parallel, others crossing and overlapping.

They were lined up in rows, forming characters. Every stroke had been carved with a knife.

Steam billowed in the bathroom. A bone-chilling cold surged up Jiang Yueming’s spine. He felt as if he had fallen into an ice cave.

His gaze followed those carved marks, reading them character by character.

The first character.

“Become.”

The second character.

“Me.”

“Become Me.”

The tail of the final character “我” extended straight down toward the wrist. That stroke should have been a slanted hook, but instead it went straight down. The knife wound was drawn very long.

“Become Me.”

Jiang Yueming stared at those three characters for a long time. Fear and confusion spread in his heart.

The shower continued to pour down its curtain of water. He stood there as if petrified within it.

He recognized that handwriting.

The character “我” was written in his own habitual style.

…

The living room light felt somewhat cold.

Jiang Yueming sat alone on the sofa. His left hand was wrapped in thick gauze.

His expression shifted between light and dark. He leaned forward over the coffee table and used a utility knife to carve into the wooden surface over and over again.

Become me. Become me. Become me…

Dense knife marks filled what had once been a smooth tabletop.

Jiang Yueming closed his eyes and made one final cut on the table, guided purely by instinct.

Five seconds later, he opened his eyes.

It was still those same three characters. “Become Me.” The slanted hook of the final character went all the way down without curving back. The handwriting was exactly the same as the wounds on his arm.

The knife was tossed aside. It fell onto the table with a crisp sound.

Jiang Yueming leaned back into the sofa. His breathing became extremely heavy.

“It’s really my own handwriting…”

He stared at his hand wrapped tightly in gauze. His mind was a complete mess.

Jiang Yueming couldn’t remember at all when he had done something like this. Moreover, what reason would he have for committing such an act of near self-harm?

There were at least dozens of wounds on that arm. Each one was deep enough to expose the subcutaneous tissue. How painful must that have been? How could he have no memory of it whatsoever?

And what did these characters even mean?

Become me? If this was really written by him, did it mean he wanted to become himself?

How was he supposed to become himself?

The itchy, painful sensation coming from the wounds made Jiang Yueming close his eyes irritably. He frowned and sank deeper into the sofa.

His vision went dark. His thoughts were chaotic.

From time to time, the sound of vehicles passing by outside the window could be heard. The rustling of tires rolling over the road surface moved from far to near, then from near to far again. It became the only background noise in the deathly silent living room.

Suddenly, a strange sense of familiarity surged up in his heart.

Jiang Yueming frowned uncomfortably. His tightly closed eyes trembled.

He remembered that bizarre dream. The dream where the girl with pigtails was crying in the rain.

At the end of the dream, he had been having a conversation with someone.

A voice that seemed to travel across time and space rang in his ears. It felt incredibly familiar.

“Who are you?”

“What do you think?”

Jiang Yueming suddenly opened his eyes. His gaze landed on the characters carved into the surface of the coffee table.

An absurd thought rose in his heart.

He silently recited those few characters while recalling every detail of that dream in his mind. The man’s posture. His speaking habits…

He still vaguely remembered that the man he had been talking to in the dream had seemed to light a cigarette midway through.

“Become me.”

Jiang Yueming stood up, grabbed his phone, casually threw on a jacket to cover his left hand, and walked out the door.

He was going to verify the suspicion in his heart.