## Interview Test
Early the next morning, I crawled out of bed with two huge dark circles under my eyes. The 200,000 in cash was stuffed under the mattress, stiff and lumpy, keeping me from sleeping soundly all night. It was less excitement and more fear. The money was burning a hole in my pocket; I kept expecting the police to burst through the door any second, accusing me of some heinous crime.
No, I couldn't just sit around and wait. I had to figure out what was happening to me.
That absurd notion, like a seed, was sprouting wildly in my heart. My drunken remark last night, "I'll never get rich," had resulted in me finding 200,000. If it wasn't a coincidence, if... I really had some kind of reverse word-spirit ability?
I needed to test it. A controllable, safe test with immediate results.
My eyes fell on a printed job posting on the desk. It was for a small advertising company called "Blue Ocean Creative." It wasn't a large firm, the pay was average, and they were looking for a junior designer. Given my current reputation, finding a company willing to give me an interview was a miracle in itself. Of course, I knew it was most likely just a humiliating formality.
But right now, it was my perfect testing ground.
I put on my only decent suit and forced a smile in the mirror that looked worse than crying. The person in the mirror, his handsome face looking a bit haggard from the recent blows, had a hint of madness in his eyes that even I hadn't noticed.
"Lin Fan, remember, from now on, every good thing you say is a curse. Every bad thing you say is a blessing." I was psyching myself up, or perhaps brainwashing myself.
The Blue Ocean Creative office was in an old office building. The elevator smelled of a strange mix of disinfectant and instant noodles. The moment I pushed open the company's glass door, I muttered to myself, "This interview is definitely doomed. The Interviewer will definitely take a dislike to me."
A middle-aged man with gold-rimmed glasses and impeccably combed hair looked up and glanced at me impatiently. He was the Interviewer, Manager Li. His suit was sharp, but the bright pink tie was particularly tacky, like a peacock in full display, desperately trying to show off.
"Lin Fan?" he held my resume, not even looking at me, his fingers tapping impatiently on the desk. "Sit. Three minutes. Tell me your strengths."
A classic power play. If it were yesterday's me, I probably would have been sweating buckets. But now, I was perfectly calm, even wanted to laugh.
I cleared my throat, looking at his arrogant face, and silently chanted, "My next answer will definitely be full of flaws, and he'll think I'm a complete idiot."
Then, I spoke, my voice soft, with just the right amount of nervousness: "Hello, Manager Li. My... my strengths, I suppose, are that I'm pretty down-to-earth and can endure hardship."
Manager Li's eyebrow twitched. His tapping fingers stopped. He finally looked up, sizing me up properly. A playful smile tugged at his lips. "Down-to-earth? Can endure hardship? That's what all young people say these days. Tell me something practical. What can you do? Are you proficient with PS and AI? We don't take interns here."
Here came the sharp questions. I took a deep breath and chanted again in my mind, "I definitely won't be able to answer. I need to let him know my software skills are absolute garbage."
I stammered, "PS, AI... I... I know a little of both, but maybe... maybe not that proficient. I still need to learn a lot of the advanced functions."
"Oh? You need to learn?" Manager Li leaned back in his chair, arms crossed, with an "I knew it" expression. "Then what do you know about our company? Why do you want to work here?"
This was a death trap question. I knew nothing about this company; I had just tossed my resume into the pile while mass-applying. I looked into his eyes, screaming inwardly, "I'm definitely going to say the wrong thing. I need to make him think I know nothing about his company and am just here to try my luck!"
I said, "I... I understand that your company is... very dynamic in the creative field, and... and I think the atmosphere here is a good fit for my growth..."
Before I could finish, Manager Li suddenly laughed. It wasn't a mocking laugh, but one of... appreciation?
"Interesting." He nodded, leaning forward slightly. "Young man, you're very honest. Too many young people nowadays have their heads in the clouds. They only know the basics and dare to call themselves experts. You, on the other hand, are frank about your shortcomings. In this superficial industry, 'honesty' is a rarer quality than any skill."
I was stunned.
Honest? I was clearly trying to make you think I was a useless waste of space!
Ignoring my bewilderment, he continued, "As for the company, we are indeed a small company, but it's precisely because we're small that we're dynamic. Unlike those big corporations with too many rules and regulations that stifle creativity. I see that although you're nervous, there's a fire in your eyes. You're not one of the dead-inside types. Alright, I'll give you a test. Half an hour. Use PS to create a poster for me on the theme 'Summer Coolness.' You have free rein."
He pointed to a computer nearby.
My heart sank. I had gone too far. My PS skills were truly just "knowing a little." Asking me to make a poster in half an hour was a death sentence.
I sat down at the computer, my palms starting to sweat. It was over. I was about to be exposed. I stared at the blank canvas in despair, making one last struggle: "I definitely can't do this. The poster I make will be too ugly to look at. He'll definitely kick me out after seeing it!"
Then, I gritted my teeth and got to work. My mind was a blank; I could only rely on muscle memory, dragging and dropping assets, haphazardly combining them. I even deliberately used some of the tackiest color schemes and fonts to make it look worse.
Half an hour later, I showed Manager Li the poster that even I found an eyesore. On it was a crooked ice cream character against a neon green background with blood-red artistic text—a total disaster.
I was prepared to be thrown out.
However, Manager Li stared at the poster for a full half-minute. He adjusted his gold-rimmed glasses, his expression shifting from scrutiny to surprise, and finally to delight.
"Genius! Absolute genius!" He slammed the table and stood up, startling me.
I was dumbfounded. "Huh? Manager Li, what... what did you say?"
"I said you're a genius!" He pointed at the hideous poster on the screen, his eyes glowing. "Do you have any idea what 'contrast aesthetics' is? Do you understand 'Deconstructionism'? In this world of cookie-cutter 'cutesy' styles, your bold, unrestrained, even slightly wild design can instantly grab people's attention! Isn't this the 'individuality' that young people are chasing these days?"
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
Contrast aesthetics? Deconstructionism? I was just trying to make it ugly!
Manager Li paced excitedly in front of me. "Young man, you're hired! No, I can't just make you a junior designer. That would be a waste of your talent! I'll give you the position of 'Creative Specialist' directly. A monthly salary of eight thousand, full salary during the probation period. How about that? You can start today!"
Eight thousand? Full salary during probation? And a direct promotion?
The whole world felt unreal. The interview had gone as smoothly as a dream, an utterly absurd dream.
I mechanically nodded my head. It wasn't until Manager Li shoved a contract into my hand that I came back to my senses.
Walking out of the Blue Ocean Creative building, the sunlight outside was dazzling. I squinted, looking at the bustling traffic, feeling as if I were in another dimension. I looked down at the contract in my hand, then touched the bank card in my pocket. A crystal-clear realization exploded in my mind like a clap of thunder.
This wasn't a coincidence.
This wasn't a hallucination.
I, Lin Fan, really had the power of the Crow's Mouth.
I said my interview would be a bust, and I was hired on the spot. I said my skills were terrible, and he called me a genius. I said my design was ugly, and he called it art.
Every "bad" thing I said had become the best possible outcome.
Standing on the bustling street, I couldn't help but throw my head back and laugh. Passersby gave me strange looks, thinking I was a madman.
I didn't care.
I laughed so hard tears came to my eyes. Wang Hao, you trampled me into the mud, ruined my reputation, and left me with no way out. You thought I was finished?
You just wait.
My grand show of revenge has only just begun. My Crow's Mouth, from this day forward, is super effective!
## Secret Sharing
When I pushed open the creaking door of my Rented Apartment, Fatty Zhao was sitting cross-legged on my small sofa. He held a can of ice-cold Coke in his left hand and a handful of potato chips in his right, crunching loudly while staring intently at the computer screen, where a raucous comedy was playing. The room was filled with the peculiar smell of instant noodles and potato chips.
"Yo, Brother Fan, you're back? How'd the interview go? Did another discerning manager humiliate you?" Fatty Zhao didn't turn his head, shoving another large handful of chips into his mouth, his words muffled.
I didn't say a word. I slapped the offer letter with the "Blue Ocean Creative" logo onto the coffee table in front of him and slumped into the chair opposite, letting out a long sigh.
Fatty Zhao froze. He slowly turned his head, pushed his black-framed glasses up his nose, and his gaze moved from my face to the paper, then back to my face, filled with the suspicion that I had "forged this at a print shop."
"No way, bro?" He picked up the paper, examining it over and over as if authenticating a hundred-dollar bill. "Eight thousand a month, full salary during probation, and the position is 'Creative Specialist'? Is the boss of this company blind, or did you kidnap his daughter?"
I rolled my eyes at him, snatched back my offer letter, and tucked it into my pocket like a treasure. "Kidnap your ass. I got this on my own merit." I deliberately dragged out the words, a mysterious and smug grin on my face.
Fatty Zhao paused, then leaned closer, lowering his voice with a gossipy expression: "Come on, spill it! Did you get ridiculously lucky? Or did Su Qing give you a blessing?"
I cleared my throat, leaned forward, and said in a tone that implied "what I'm about to say will shatter your worldview": "Fatty, I'm going to tell you a secret. Don't be scared."
"Go ahead, I'm brave. I'm not afraid of anyone except my wife." He patted his chest confidently.
I took a deep breath and said, word by word: "I think... I've become a god."
Fatty Zhao spat out his Coke with a "pfft," spraying it all over the coffee table. He frantically searched for tissues while laughing uncontrollably. "A god? Lin Fan, are you still half-asleep? If you're a god, I'm the Jade Emperor. Stop bragging and pay me back for that meal you owe me."
"Don't believe me?" I crossed my legs, with a "just you wait" expression. "Aren't you always complaining about wanting to find your wife's hidden stash so you can secretly buy in-game skins?"
That hit a sore spot. Fatty Zhao immediately perked up, his eyes wide like bells. "What? You know where it is? Tell me quick! I'll split it with you if you're right!"
"I don't need to know," I said, snapping my fingers leisurely. "I just need to tell you that you absolutely will not find your wife's hidden stash today."
Fatty Zhao rolled his eyes dramatically. "Duh! If I could find it, why would I be telling you? I've been searching for almost a year. I've turned the house upside down and found nothing!"
"Less talk, more searching." I pointed at him. "Right now. Go look in the old bookshelf in my bedroom."
"I've already looked there! It's covered in dust!" Fatty Zhao complained, but his body honestly stood up. He walked into the bedroom, muttering, "I'll humor you this once."
I leaned back in the chair, slowly sipping the half-can of Coke he'd left, listening to the sounds of rummaging from the bedroom.
"Nothing here!"
"Not here either!"
"Lin Fan, are you messing with me?!"
Just as I was about to burst out laughing, there was a loud "clang" from the bedroom, followed by Fatty Zhao's exclamation.
I strolled over casually to see Fatty Zhao squatting on the floor, staring dumbfounded at his feet. A thick copy of *One Hundred Years of Solitude* had fallen to the ground. Its pages were hollowed out, and a stack of red bills was spilling out like a blooming flower.
"Ho... holy crap!" Fatty Zhao's glasses slid to the tip of his nose. He reached out a trembling hand, picked up a bill, held it to the light, sniffed it, and after confirming it was real, he was completely dumbstruck. "How... how is this possible? I checked that book before! It was just a regular old book!"
"I told you, you absolutely wouldn't find it today." I patted his shoulder, my tone as calm as if I were commenting on the weather. "But you found it. Get it now?"
Fatty Zhao's head snapped up. The look in his eyes had completely changed, from the previous jest and doubt to shock, confusion, and even a hint of awe. He opened his mouth but couldn't say a word.
I went back to the living room and sat down, watching him leisurely. I knew this wasn't enough. I needed one more strong dose to completely shatter his worldview.
"Remember that 'Shared Stool' investment project of yours that you lost your shirt on?" I asked casually.
At the mention of this, Fatty Zhao's face fell instantly, like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "Don't mention it. It breaks my heart just thinking about it! That was the money I was going to use to buy my wife a bag! Now those stupid stools are just gathering dust in the warehouse, and I can't get a single cent back!"
"Right," I nodded, then prophesied with a serious face, "I'm sure that absolutely no idiot will call you today wanting to buy your pile of junk."
Just as Fatty Zhao was about to agree, his phone on the coffee table suddenly rang.
He glanced at the caller ID—it was an unknown number—and impatiently swiped to answer: "Hello? Who is this? Selling insurance or loans?"
An excited, slightly neurotic voice came from the other end: "Is this Mr. Zhao? I'm from 'Pigs on the Wind' Venture Capital! I saw your business plan for the 'Shared Stool' project—it's a stroke of genius! We're willing to invest 500,000 to acquire all the technology and inventory you have. When would be a good time to discuss this further?"
Fatty Zhao was petrified. His phone slipped from his ear and nearly hit the floor. He stared at me with wide eyes, his mouth agape enough to fit an egg, pointing at me, trembling all over but unable to utter a word.
I picked up his phone and said politely into the receiver, "I'm sorry, Mr. Zhao is unavailable right now. He needs a moment to cool down. I'll have him call you back later."
I hung up, gently placed the phone back on the table, and spread my hands toward the stunned Fatty Zhao.
"Now... do you believe me?"
Fatty Zhao's Adam's apple bobbed. He rushed over, grabbed my shoulders, and shook me hard, his eyes blazing with a fanatical light, like Columbus discovering the New World.
"I believe it! I completely believe it! Lin Fan! You... you're not human!"
I was a little dizzy from being shaken. I finally broke free and straightened my collar, pretending to be profound.
Fatty Zhao circled me twice, muttering nonstop, "No wonder... no wonder you passed the interview... no wonder you found the money... no wonder..."
He suddenly stopped, put his hands together, and looked at me with an almost worshipful gaze, his voice trembling slightly with excitement:
"Lin Fan, from today on, you're my biological brother! No, you're my savior! Please accept my knees! You are..."
He paused, as if searching for the most fitting word to describe my ability. Finally, he slapped his thigh and roared with all his might:
"You are my Crow's Mouth War God!"
## The Sprout of Revenge
The moment Fatty Zhao left, I slumped onto the sofa, feeling completely drained. The room fell silent, with only the occasional hum of the old refrigerator, as if mocking the shabbiness of my Rented Apartment. I stared at the yellowed water stain on the ceiling, my mind a complete mess.
What had happened today was more bizarre than the past twenty-four years combined. Framed, blacklisted, lost my wallet, lost my job, and my girlfriend... Su Qing didn't know about any of this yet. The thought of her felt like a needle prick in my heart. But then came Fatty Zhao's face, shifting from shock to ecstasy; the two thousand yuan that had appeared out of nowhere in the old book; and that garbage project that had almost cost him his shirt, which someone had actually offered to buy at a high price.
All of this was because of me.
I, Lin Fan, a standard unlucky sod, now seemed to... have a Crow's Mouth? No, a reverse Crow's Mouth. I said east, things went west. I said black, the world turned white. As long as I spoke, reality had to obey my reverse commands.
I sat up straight, my heart pounding in my chest. It felt so unreal, like a dream I couldn't wake up from. I looked around, my gaze landing on the empty water glass on the table. I swallowed, my throat as dry as the Sahara. I cleared my throat and tentatively whispered, "I bet this glass won't fill itself with Coke."
The moment the words left my mouth, I watched as the empty glass spontaneously filled with a dark brown liquid. Bubbles fizzed upwards, and the cool mist even condensed a layer of fine water droplets on the outside of the glass. That familiar, sweet, cloying smell of Coke wafted into my nostrils.
I snatched the glass and took a huge gulp. The cool liquid slid down my throat, instantly quenching the fire in my heart. It was real. All of it was real! I wasn't crazy, and I wasn't dreaming. I possessed the power of a god, though this power was a bit twisted, a bit petty, but it was the real deal!
Immense ecstasy washed over me. I almost wanted to jump up and shout. Wang Hao, that bastard who trampled me underfoot, who used his father's money and power to toy with my life, did he know? He pushed me into an abyss, but he never expected that beneath the abyss, there was a ladder leading to a divine throne.
But after the ecstasy, a deeper chill and anger surged. I remembered Wang Hao's smug face, the industry-wide boycott notice he had thrown in my face, his strange, serpent-like smile. He had destroyed my career, leaving me with no path forward in this city. He had also stolen my wallet, which contained a photo of me and Su Qing—my most treasured possession.
I clenched my fists, my nails digging deep into my palms. What was the use of a lousy job, or the ability to conjure a few Cokes? Was this power just for me to amuse myself in this crappy Rented Apartment? No, never. I, Lin Fan, was not a lamb to the slaughter. Since heaven had given me a gun, I would make it spew the flames of revenge.
Frustrated, I took out my phone, wanting to call Su Qing, but not knowing what to say. I subconsciously opened a social media app, my fingers scrolling aimlessly on the screen. Then, a glaring post popped up.
It was from Wang Hao.
A photo, with the background being the city's top revolving restaurant, "Cloud Top." Outside the massive floor-to-ceiling windows was the brilliant city nightscape. In the photo, Wang Hao was wearing a well-tailored Armani suit, holding a glass of red wine, smiling smugly. Next to him sat a heavily made-up girl, leaning shyly on his shoulder.
The caption read: "Life's pleasures must be enjoyed to the fullest. Tonight's view is for those who understand. By the way, someone's design draft was pretty good. Too bad they won't get the credit."
Below it were praises from his cronies.
"Brother Hao is awesome!"
"Now that's a winner!"
"You're just jealous. Think you can get into 'Cloud Top' yourself?"
My blood rushed to my head, and my vision blurred. "Cloud Top"—that was the place Su Qing and I had promised to go once I won the annual design award. I had secretly memorized every detail about that place. And now, Wang Hao, the thief who had stolen my work, was with another woman, in the place of my dreams, using my achievement to show off, to humiliate me!
He wasn't just showing off; he was whipping a corpse. He was telling me in the cruelest way possible: Lin Fan, you've lost. You've lost completely. Everything you have is mine now.
I stared at the phone screen, Wang Hao's face magnifying and twisting in my mind. Anger, like lava, flowed through my veins, almost incinerating me. I wanted to smash the phone, to rush over and drag him out of the restaurant, to...
Suddenly, a crazy idea, like a black lightning bolt, split through my chaotic thoughts.
Why couldn't I?
I looked at my own hands, the same hands that had just created a glass of Coke. Why couldn't I use these hands to create a "surprise" for Wang Hao?
The seed of revenge, at this moment, broke through the soil, taking root and sprouting in my heart with a dark and resolute force.
I took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. I stared at Wang Hao's new white Porsche 911, parked at the restaurant entrance in the photo. He had just gotten it last month and treasured it like his life. The corners of my mouth curled up uncontrollably, revealing a cold and dangerous smile.
That smile was just like the one he had when he humiliated me.
I picked up my phone, and looking at the screen, I said, word by word, in a clear voice only I could hear:
"Wang Hao, I bet you that new Porsche of yours will be perfectly intact tomorrow morning, not a single screw will be loose."
## Deciding to Confess
The night was deep. The city outside had gradually fallen asleep, with only a few scattered lights and the occasional distant sound of a car. In my pigsty of a Rented Apartment, the air seemed to have frozen, with only the sound of my own heartbeat, drumming against my eardrums in the silence.
I slumped in the rickety gaming chair, the phone screen still lit up. Wang Hao's arrogant smile and his brand-new Porsche were like two poisoned thorns, deeply embedded in my retina. After uttering that curse, I didn't feel the expected ecstasy, but rather a strange calm, the dead silence before a storm.
I closed my eyes, and the events of the past few days flashed through my mind like a movie. Being fired from the design firm, blacklisted by the industry, losing my wallet, being penniless, and Wang Hao's arrogant flaunting and humiliation. Each scene was like a dull knife, sawing back and forth at my heart. Despair, anger, unwillingness—these emotions churned in my chest like a boiling pot of magma.
But now, a thin crust seemed to have formed on the surface of that magma. Because I had a secret, a secret so crazy it could overturn everything.
My words would never come true.
If I spoke in reverse, my wishes would come true.
It sounded like a cliché setup from a third-rate web novel, but it was happening to me for real. The glass of Coke that had instantly filled was proof. The reverse words I had spoken to Wang Hao's Porsche would be the first sacrifice.
But then what?
The thrill of revenge surged like a tide, then receded like a tide, leaving only a cold, empty beach. I looked around the small Rented Apartment—the yellowing wallpaper on the walls, the leftover instant noodle bucket on the table, the air thick with the smell of decay and loneliness. Even if I could use my Crow's Mouth to make Wang Hao's life hell, even if I could get revenge on him, then what? I was still Lin Fan, the guy blacklisted by the entire industry, not knowing where his next meal was coming from.
I needed an ally. Someone who could hold me back when I went mad, guide me when I was lost, and be genuinely happy for me when I succeeded.
Su Qing's face instantly appeared in my mind.
Her eyes would crescent into moons when she smiled. She always knew how to cheer me up with the simplest logic when I was at my lowest. She would be happy all day because I drew a nice picture, and she would silently accompany me when my work wasn't going well. When I was framed and abandoned by everyone, only she, without hesitation, chose to believe me.
At the thought of her, my heart ached. In the wallet I'd lost, there was a photo of us. That was my most precious possession, now vanished along with my meager belongings. I couldn't lose her. Absolutely not.
But how was I supposed to tell her?
"Qingqing, I have something to tell you. I think I've been cursed. My words don't come true, but when I say the opposite, it happens."
Would she think I was too stressed out, that I was having a mental breakdown? Would she think I was making up a ridiculous excuse to escape reality? I could even imagine the worry and confusion in her clear eyes.
I picked up an empty glass from the table and tried to rehearse. "I definitely can't get any water." The glass remained still. "I wish this glass would instantly fill with ice-cold Coke." Nothing happened either. It seemed my ability needed a strong, heartfelt intention to drive it, not just a simple incantation. How could I prove something like that to someone else?
I could tell her that Wang Hao's Porsche would have an accident tomorrow, but if it really did, would she think I had done something illegal? How could I explain all of it?
I ran a hand through my hair in frustration, feeling like a fly trapped in a glass bottle, able to see the outside world but never able to fly out. The flames of revenge and my love for Su Qing tore at my heart, almost ripping my sanity apart.
No, I couldn't carry this burden alone.
This secret was too heavy. It would fester inside me like poison. If I hid it from her, an invisible wall would grow between us. I couldn't imagine speaking those venomous reverse words to Wang Hao while pretending to be a normal person in front of her. It was too exhausting, and too unfair to her.
I loved her, so I had to trust her. Even if there was only a one percent chance she would believe me, I had to try. If I lost her too, what was the point of getting revenge on Wang Hao? I would just be jumping from one hell into another, lonelier hell.
Once this thought took root, it could not be suppressed.
I took a deep breath, as if making a decision that would stake everything. I picked up my phone, unlocked the screen, and my finger scrolled through the contact list, finally stopping at the familiar name—Su Qing.
My heart hammered uncontrollably, and my palms were sweaty. At this hour, she should be asleep. Should I send a text? Or call her?
A text was too cold to convey my complex feelings. A call might wake her up.
I hesitated, deleting and rewriting words in the input box, not knowing where to start. Should I confess directly, or test the waters first?
In the end, I deleted all the carefully chosen words and typed a single line.
"Qingqing, are you asleep? There's something I want to tell you now."
My thumb hovered over the send button, reluctant to press it. Outside, a crescent moon hung in the sky, its cool light filtering into the small room, casting half my face in light and half in shadow.
I knew that pressing this button would send my life hurtling in an unpredictable direction. But I had no other choice.