I sell clothes at a wholesale market.
Last month, I rented a very cheap apartment with a deposit equal to one month's rent and three months' rent paid upfront, plus nice home appliances.
Although it's a shared apartment, my roommate is a very beautiful girl. She's gentle and has extremely fair skin, and her name is Shawna Gu.
She leaves before dawn every day and only comes back after dark.
I usually cook at home, and every time I see her come back, I'll warmly invite her to eat with me. But she never eats; she just praises my cooking skills. Then she'll take big, deep sniffs of the food, going "huff, huff, huff." She says she's afraid of gaining weight, so she just wants to smell the food to satisfy her craving.
As time went on, our relationship grew closer. Occasionally, when she gets off work at night, I'll ask her to go for a walk downstairs—I also want to take our relationship to the next level. She doesn't reject me, but every time we take the elevator, she'll hold my hand, which feels a bit cold. She seems extremely nervous, pressing herself hard into the corner of the elevator. It feels like she's almost sticking to the wall.
Once, the elevator was too crowded, so I stood in front of Shawna to shield her. Even though the elevator was already full of people, an old woman kept pushing her way in. After getting on, she spoke to me in a sarcastic, mocking tone: "Where did you get this rude brat from? Don't you know to respect the elderly and care for the young? Can't you move inside a little when you see an old lady like me getting on?" I wanted to talk back right then. Shawna has a great figure, but she's still a girl—I couldn't just let her be pushed around, could I? But Shawna grabbed my arm directly, shook her head nervously at me, and signaled me to let it go. So I held back my anger and didn't say a word.
Unexpectedly, just a few days after that incident, the old woman who had mocked me in the elevator was hit and killed by a large truck at the community gate. Her head was crushed, and the ground was covered with blood and brain matter—her death was extremely horrific. It was from that time on that Shawna and I would take the stairs whenever we went out together.
We'd take walks outside the community, and she'd also feed stray cats with me at the community gate. Our relationship grew warmer and warmer. I told Shawna I wanted her to be my girlfriend.
But Shawna shook her head and refused. I asked her if it was because of my job or my education background? Shawna said no; she just told me I needed to think carefully, then went back to her room.
I haven't had much of an appetite these days, but she thoughtfully leaves an apple for me in the living room. That apple seems to have some kind of magic—I now think about its taste every day. The apples I buy from the supermarket myself taste like chewing wax; the flavor just doesn't feel right. I also feel listless, my whole body weak, and my heart flutters with anxiety. After just a few days, I lost more than ten pounds.
At work today, my boss asked me why I looked so pale. He wondered if I'd been staying up late playing games and not sleeping well. I said I'd been resting well and didn't even have dreams—I just had no appetite when eating.
My boss said I might be sick. He took out 1,000 yuan and said to me: "Ning Chen, you're just working too hard. Go to the hospital and get checked. Treat it if you're sick, and if not, that's even better."
I really had been feeling low on energy these days, so I nodded and agreed.
I registered, had a blood test, and did several other checks. When the doctor looked at the results, he said I just had a common case of physical weakness and a slight case of low blood sugar. He prescribed two boxes of medicine—one for improving digestion and one for calming the nerves and aiding sleep—then told me to go home. He said if I didn't get better, I should go back for a re-examination in a few days.
By the time I was on my way back, it was already dark. I planned to ask Shawna tonight where she bought her fruit, so I could buy more tomorrow. This whole thing had made me lose my appetite for anything else and left me feeling weak.
But when I got off the bus at my stop, a strong, rich fruit aroma drifted into my nose. That smell was exactly like the scent of the apples Shawna gave me. It was rich and refreshing, and just smelling it made my appetite surge.
I followed the aroma, wanting to buy some apples to take back. But when I found the source of the scent, I froze. Not far away, on the green belt, there were three half-burned joss sticks, emitting thin wisps of white smoke. Next to them were a pile of burnt paper ashes, a bowl of inverted rice, and a white paper prayer flag used for summoning souls.
The apple scent I'd smelled was the smoke from these three burning joss sticks. I was shocked—now even joss sticks burned for the dead come with fruit scents? Instinctively, I took a deep breath of the fruit-scented smoke from those joss sticks. "Inhale..." It felt so good; my whole body felt happy and relaxed. I couldn't control myself—I wanted to take another two sniffs of the smoke.
But just as I was about to inhale again, a hoarse voice suddenly sounded from behind me:
"Rude brat, who told you to inhale my joss sticks?"