Chapter 2 — Notes on a Second and Third Life

There are documented cases, Lin Che thought, standing in his bathroom with his hands still on his tie, of people experiencing very vivid dreams. There are also documented cases of psychogenic blackouts with false memories. There is, theoretically, a framework in which everything I just experienced is a neurological event and I am fine.

He looked at himself in the mirror.

He raised his hands — perfectly fine, no marks.

He had fallen down a flight of stairs, and was quite sure that something had gone very wrong with his spine.

He was absolutely fine.

He stood there, finished knotting his tie, and went to the wedding.

***

Shen Yue was at the window of the civil affairs office, exactly as before: green qipao, staring out, shaking hands, carefully placing the certificate.

He said the same things he had said before because they were still the right things to say, and they went for dinner. This time, he decided to ignore his reservation and ask her where to eat.

She suggested a Thai restaurant she frequents.

He couldn’t complain about having that meal again. It was divine.

She asked him just two questions during dinner — what did he do for a living, and how long had he been at the same company for?

He answered both questions the same way he had the first time, because they were still the right answers, and then he asked her two questions in return.

She said she was a consultant, but this time Lin Che asked her what kind.

“Resource management,” she replied. “Old assets and finding uses for things that have been overlooked.”

He didn’t push any further. He had learnt, in eleven days of a life that had apparently not happened, that she answered questions to the precise edge of what she was willing to give, and then stayed quiet with a composure that put him off from asking further. So, he let it go and ate his food.

The food was, in fact, extraordinary — he opted for a green curry this time round, and made a note to remember to order this exact meal again for another special occasion. He typically wasn’t a big fan of coconut, but the flavours paired well in this dish.

The walk home was about the same: silent. He had Shen Yue lead the way this time, despite now knowing the route by memory. Had he had led, she would have taken him for a stalker of sorts.

Outside the building, she restated: “There’s a back room on the left. I use it for work, and ask you not to go in there.”

***

The first few days went exactly as last time, with the two eating dinner and exchanging few words between them.

On day four, Lin Che noticed he had run out of coffee, so took a trip to the local supermarket to restock on supplies. Before leaving the house, he stood by the door and called out to his wife, asking if she wanted him to pick up any supplies. She was in her office and did not reply, so he bought what he pleased.

The supermarket was a ten-minute walk away. Inside, he picked up a shopping basket and went through the aisles with a rumbling stomach and dry throat. He picked up the basic necessities: rice, eggs, tea, coffee, and a couple of vegetables.

He stopped in front of the fruit section.

Plums.

He put three boxes in the basket.

He paid the cashier and stepped back into the evening air.

When he got back, the apartment was quiet, and the back left office had its lights off. Shen Yue was probably on the roof again.

He set the groceries down on the counter and filled the fruit bowl, before texting his wife to ask what she would like for dinner.

One minute later, Shen Yue was back in the kitchen, saying she didn’t trust Lin Che’s cooking skills. She moved to the cupboard and scooped out rice into a bowl before running it under the sink.

“I wasn’t sure what to buy. You didn’t respond when I asked.”

She looked up. “Oh, I was busy with work and couldn’t hear you.”

Shen Yue opened the fridge and brought out a metal bowl containing a mystery meat lathered in sauce and covered with cling film. She brought out a knife and raised it to pierce through the plastic.

“There are plums in the bowl,” said Lin Che. “If you want them.”

Shen Yue paused, knife still midair. “I didn’t ask for any.”

“No,” he agreed. “But you seem to like them.”

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them.

They made eye contact for a beat before Lin Che broke it. Thankfully, Shen Yue was looking at him with curiosity rather than suspicion.

“How do you know that?”

Lin Che’s eyes darted from place to place as his mind scrambled to come up with an excuse.

“The fruit bowl,” he said. “Smelt faintly of plums and nothing else.”

She looked away. “I see.”

***

The ninth day came, and this time Lin Che arrived home early. Having previously experienced the problem at work, he managed to resolve things quickly much to the joy of his supervisor, and was rewarded with an early night home.

This time, Shen Yue was still at home, sipping on a cup of tea in the living room whilst relaxing under an electric blanket. He felt warm just looking at her.

She looked the very definition of cosy.

“You’re home early,” she greeted him, motionless. “I’m a bit tired today, so I’ll be heading outside for some fresh air and an early night in. You can order dinner online or heat up leftovers — whatever’s easiest.”

This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

“Alright,” he said, setting his bag down by the door and loosening his tie. She still hadn’t moved, cocooned in the blanket, with both her hands around the cup.

Dinner was reheated braised pork.

He decided not to follow her up to the rooftop.

On day eleven, Lin Che decided to not walk straight towards destined death and left the package on the stairs. One of the neighbours will hand it over.

Still, he was not careful enough.

He woke up at three in the morning on day fourteen with his stomach cramping in a way more gruesome than it had ever done before. It was much worse than simple food poisoning, and he was already too weak to get to his phone.

The last thing he was aware of was the bedroom ceiling and his vision blurring as the room clouded over.

I should have—

The tie was giving him trouble.

***

Lin Che stood in his bathroom and tied the knot again.

He stood there for a moment, not to recover from his bout of illness, but because he was thinking through something.

Two different methods, but the same outcome. First it was the stairs, then it was something else — maybe something he ate or drank? This loop he’d avoided the stairs and been considerably more careful, but he still died on the fourteenth day.

Which means, he thought, that, no matter what I do, something or someone intends to deal with me within two weeks of the wedding.

He looked at himself in the mirror.