The Nightmare Experience of a Useless Person

The gushing blood quickly took her breath away. Yu Qingjun's head rested on Jiang Zhiyang's left shoulder, and she felt lightheaded.

A lump formed in his throat, but no tears came out. Jiang Zhiyang's heart was numb, and he instinctively shut himself off from the grief emanating from Yu Qingjun as if protecting himself.

Jiang Zhiyang carefully picked up the girl who was leaning against him. Blood soaked through her white dress, which swayed in the morning breeze. At this moment, she looked like a broken butterfly.

Yu Qingjun left, and the dream unexpectedly didn't end. Even so, Jiang Zhiyang still put the mission out of his mind; his heart was filled with regret.

Jiang Zhiyang escorted her back to her bedchamber and helped her change into a light yellow dress. The front of the dress was embroidered with large lotus flowers and fluttering butterflies. This was a gift he had brought her when he sneaked out last time, but unfortunately he hadn't had a chance to give it to her yet.

Wearing this outfit, she looked like an ordinary girl. It would have been better if she had two braids, but Jiang Zhiyang was too clumsy and could only manage to tie two bows for her with colorful rope.

"Let me be the goddess for you." He took Yu Qingjun's hand and pressed it against his warm cheek, only to feel a deathly coldness.

Since that day, Jiang Zhiyang has never seen Manniang again. The temple was kept afloat by Aunt Jing, and people came and went, clouds rolled and unrolled, just like always.

However, there is no sunshine here anymore; the sky is overcast all day long, and it rains continuously.

Jiang Zhiyang put on the goddess's crown, and the flower ornament on his forehead was the red gemstone he had seen when he first met her. He sat in the sedan chair with the white gauze curtain, looking at the villagers who were prostrate on the ground.

In fact, even through the curtains, it was immediately clear whether the people below were genuinely praying or merely glancing sideways with disdain.

The main hall for chanting scriptures was very quiet and cold; the repetitive days were particularly boring; and the spring water at the top of the mountain was frozen to the bone…

Thinking of Yu Qingjun's appearance, Jiang Zhiyang tried hard to imitate her.

It is said that after Yu Qingjun left, Manniang spent her days in tears and refused to eat. Not long after, she died of depression.

The dream is over.

The mission failed.

……

When his consciousness returned to reality, Jiang Zhiyang felt a chill on his buttocks and back. Shouldn't he be lying on Yu Qingjun's soft bed? Why was he so cold?

He opened his eyes and saw a gray sky under the eaves.

He was thrown out. Sure enough, Yu Qingjun was angry. The business plaza at five or six in the morning was as silent as the dust on the ground.

The tavern's small, shabby door was tightly shut, and the welcoming light at the entrance was off. He leaned gently against the door, but there was no sound from inside; everything was just like the scene he had seen when he first came to the tavern.

Jiang Zhiyang took out his phone. It was Monday, 6:15. Although he wanted to see Yu Qingjun right now, sixteen missed calls from Liu Xuyan reminded him that he was still a student. If he couldn't be in the classroom on time at eight o'clock, his newly appointed counselor, who was full of enthusiasm and as proactive as a yellow sponge, would give him a verbal lecture that would last for an hour.

Jiang Zhiyang picked up a foxtail grass and slowly strolled along, using the grass stalk to whip the dwarf holly bushes by the roadside.

A day and a night spent in a dream is no more than a day and a night in reality.

Watching the cars drive by, the flashing traffic lights at the intersection, and the old man crashing into a tree on the grass, the Guanyin weeping, the goddesses on patrol, the sunflower fields in my dreams, my father and mother—all seem like a string of fleeting bubbles, shattering in the instant the sunlight shines on them, in a corner unnoticed by anyone…

In his mind, the image of Yu Qingjun committing suicide flashed repeatedly—blood flowing from her fair skin, soaking her white dress.

Jiang Zhiyang knew that she was not really dead, but he still wanted to see her one last time. It seemed that only by seeing her alive and well could he feel at ease.

At eight o'clock, Jiang Zhiyang appeared in the classroom on time, and his good roommate Liu Xuyan also brought him textbooks quite consciously.

The room was filled with sleepy college students. The few students with messy hair in the back were probably still snuggled in their warm blankets three minutes ago. Only a few students in the front row were writing furiously. Fortunately, the two students next to him, Liu Xuyan and Duan Heng, were among the good students. Jiang Zhiyang handed over the task of taking notes and copying down the key points to them, and then he could relax and daydream.

For the next five days, his schedule remained packed with classes: endless group assignments, lab reports that were always in progress, too little time for pre-reading, and notes that he hadn't had time to organize. Jiang Zhiyang was so busy and chaotic that he temporarily escaped from the illusion of that dream.

Only occasionally, such as on a sunny day, a girl with red lipstick, blooming flowers, and words like "redundant," "dried fish," "average," and "clear," would make his heart skip a beat and fall into a few seconds of silence.

Actually, before the group experiment on Wednesday afternoon, Jiang Zhiyang still managed to take some time to go back to the bar, but everything was as usual.

He couldn't help but push the door, then couldn't help but exert some force, and then couldn't help but ram it a few times with his body. The small wooden door actually opened. The small shop, which was only a few dozen square meters, contained only a few broken chairs and tables, and the white walls on all four sides were covered with dust and cobwebs.

There's nothing left...

They met again on Saturday evening. After Jiang Zhiyang's relentless barrage of phone calls, Yu Qingjun finally appeared before him as he had wished.

Her face was pale and weak, and she wore a loose gray sweater with a high collar that covered her neck and half her face. The two of them sat in silence, looking at each other across the table in the cake shop.

Jiang Zhiyang ordered a milk tea, but Yu Qingjun didn't move.

Jiang Zhiyang ordered another tiramisu, but Yu Qingjun didn't touch it.

Jiang Zhiyang added another slice of red velvet cake, but Yu Qingjun remained unmoved.

There was a hint of anger between her brows.

"I'm sorry, it's all because of me that the mission failed." Jiang Zhiyang's voice was soft; he knew he was wrong, and his remorse was genuine.

"I just asked you to kiss me, did I ask you to do anything else? Is it that hard to just kiss me?" Yu Qingjun's voice was sharp, immediately attracting the attention of the other customers in the store.

"I..." He lowered his head, fidgeting, "I... I don't dare."

"No way! What's there to be afraid of!"

The person opposite him stood up, grabbed his collar hard, and just when he thought Yu Qingjun was going to punch him in the face, she instead gave him a kiss.

His breath was stolen.

A racing heartbeat, rising heat, surging blood, and persistent tinnitus.

The world vanished, leaving only her. He stared at the face so close to his, his gaze straining to focus on her long eyelashes and those angry eyes.

Were her lips soft? He was too nervous to feel anything, only a constant stream of heat entering his body. Finally, his heart was ignited, exploding in his mind like colorful fireworks, dazzling and resounding through the sky.

Kissing Yu Qingjun was like tasting sweet, metallic blood, a painful experience accompanied by swelling.

Yu Qingjun is biting him.

He sensed it, but dared not move.