The landlord has multiple personalities and wants everyone to pay him.

Xiao Nuan has been a little genius since she was a child, not in terms of watches, but in terms of intelligence.

She can learn almost anything the teacher teaches in class very quickly.

The same goes for reading books. I wouldn't say I have a photographic memory, but after reading them a few times, I can understand most of them.

But geniuses are often lonely.

Xiao Nuan was very lonely. She could never integrate into the outside world. When she was little, her mother took her to the park and saw other children jumping rope and talking about cartoons. She tried to join them.

But the result was predictable: either they were told directly, "We're not playing with you anymore," or they couldn't be found the next day.

Everyone thinks she's... abnormal.

After trying a few times, Xiao Nuan gave up. When her mother took her to the park again, she sat by the flower bed, staring at the tree next to her and counting the leaves.

One piece, two pieces, three pieces... Every time I counted to one hundred and seventy-two pieces, I would go home with my mother, as if I had completed a task.

Gradually, some people who come here for a walk every day start to think that the child is aloof and doesn't get along with others.

But Xiao Nuan herself didn't feel lonely. On the contrary, she thought the quiet atmosphere of being alone was wonderful.

No one will chat with you, no one will ask you why you're not talking, and no one will force you to do things you don't like.

When you're all alone in the world, in complete silence, it's an ideal time to think.

For example, when Xiao Nuan was little, she always wondered why, after she just took a nap, several days had passed when she opened her eyes again.

It was Tuesday when I went to bed, but when I woke up I found it was already the weekend.

What happened in between? She had absolutely no recollection of it, as if she had lost her memory completely, without a single fragment.

Anyone would panic in this situation, but Xiaonuan didn't.

Her first reaction wasn't fear, but rather she listed out all the possibilities on a piece of paper.

Possibility 1: You have severe narcolepsy.

Possibility 2: There was a discrepancy in the perception of time.

Possibility 3: You are not the only user of this body.

She eliminated each option one by one, finally getting stuck on the third one, and the more she thought about it, the more reasonable she felt that this explanation was.

Xiao Nuan was also the first among the four to discover on her own that more than one soul lived inside her body.

And she accepted it very quickly.

There wasn't the kind of dramatic breakdown you see on TV, with people crying and screaming, or clutching their heads and asking why it was me.

She sat on the edge of the bed, thought for a while, and then nodded.

Oh, I see.

Because this answer is so reasonable.

Otherwise, why don't I have any memories of my childhood?

Otherwise, why do we sometimes wake up to find ourselves randomly appearing anywhere in our home?

Because she wasn't the first soul in this body; she was the one who moved in later.

What's even more amazing is that she knew the two people in the house were her parents the first time she met them.

It wasn't based on looks; it was because it was our first meeting, but it was just a feeling, a sense that she knew, and she was very certain.

And her parents are really good to her.

Dad knew she liked reading. Although he sometimes couldn't figure out what Xiaonuan liked to read, he found that she read everything. As long as there were words, she could even look at bread wrappers for a long time. So he started bringing a lot of books home.

They brought home all sorts of books—scientific, historical, novels, fairy tales, and even those thick philosophical tomes that could be used to build a house—and even set aside a room to decorate as a study specifically for Xiaonuan to study in.

Mothers, on the other hand, worry about something else entirely.

Mom often sits by her bedside at night, pats her head, and says to her:

"Nuan Nuan, sometimes you need to learn to be flexible, you know? Because Nuan Nuan is very smart, and her mind works faster than most people's. But not everyone is as smart as Nuan Nuan. Many times, what you think of, others may not think of. What you think is good, others may not think is good, so you still need to consider other people's feelings, okay?"

Xiao Nuan would blink every time she finished listening.

not understand.

In her mind, there's a better solution right in front of her, so why bother going through a roundabout way? Isn't that a waste of time?

It's like you could take a straight path to your destination, but you insist on going around three intersections before turning back. Why is that?

But that's what her mother said; her mother wouldn't lie to her.

From the moment I met my mother, everything she said made sense, even though I haven't yet figured out the reasoning behind it.

So Xiaonuan agreed.

Moreover, she really tried hard to learn, learning to read other people's expressions, learning to ask if someone is in pain when they fall, and learning not to say the right answer when she knows it, but to wait for others to figure it out themselves, and then praise them for being smart.

But that's too difficult...

The knowledge in books, no matter how difficult the questions, ultimately only has one correct answer.

One plus one equals two, the boiling point of water is 100 degrees, and the sum of the interior angles of a triangle is 180 degrees...

These things are fixed and predetermined; that's how it is.

But human nature is a thing...

There are no formulas, no standard answers, and sometimes there is no logic to speak of.

She thought the person was angry, but it turned out the person was just being affectionate.

She thought the person was happy, but it turned out they were forcing a smile.

She thought that if that person said they were good friends, then they really were good friends. But the next day, she overheard that person telling someone else that he was an idiot.

Xiao Nuan was really confused; this was far more complicated than any book she had ever read.

Fortunately, she later discovered that there seemed to be someone inside her who was particularly good at handling these kinds of things.

who?

I don't know, but that person seems to have a natural talent for dealing with others.

They can read people's expressions, say nice things, smooth over awkward situations, and offer comforting gestures when others are sad.

These things were incredibly rare for Xiao Nuan, but for that person, they were as simple as breathing.

That makes the problem much simpler.

Xiao Nuan never does anything futile. Since she is not good at dealing with such elusive things as human nature, she leaves it to someone who is.

This is what we call specialization; leaving professional tasks to professionals.

She didn't want to think about these things anymore, things that had no standard answers and were right today but wrong tomorrow; it was too tiring.

Later, Xiao Nuan did something: she prepared a notebook.

It was just one of those ordinary lined notebooks. She wrote a few sentences on the first page, something like this:

[Hello, if you can see this, it means you are currently in control of this body. I am the previous one, my name is Xiaonuan, and it seems we are sharing this body. Can you tell me who you are?]

Then she put the notebook on the bedside table, waiting for the next person to wake up to see it.

As a result, when she came back the next time, she opened the notebook and found that the contents were very messy and disorganized.

Someone had exceptionally beautiful handwriting and left a comment: "So that's how it is."

Someone wrote it like a dog's crawl, all crooked and messy. [What? That can't be!]

Some people simply don't write anything; they just draw a bunch of meaningless things on it.

What's even more outrageous is that someone later tore the notebook up.

Yes, it was torn up completely, not a single page was left. Xiao Nuan found it in the trash can when she woke up; it looked like it had been shredded by a paper shredder.

Xiao Nuan stared at the pile of shredded paper, looked at it for a moment, then picked up a new notebook and started again, waiting for a reply.

It's okay if it gets scribbled on.

It's okay if I get scolded.

It got torn again, so I'll just buy another one.

She was like someone in a dark room holding a flashlight, searching everywhere, hoping to find someone to respond to her.

Because she had an idea in her mind.

She wanted to communicate with herself before communicating with others.