Diary of exchange

The Devil's Contract That night, Lin Wan had a bizarre, kaleidoscopic dream. In the dream, she stood on the stage of the school auditorium, wearing Su Xiao's pale yellow sundress. Below her stretched a sea of dark faces, every eye fixed on her, brimming with envy and admiration. She opened her mouth to speak, but what emerged was Su Xiao's clear, melodious voice. A featherlight joy washed over her, something she'd never felt before, as if her entire being might dissolve into this illusory glow. But in the next instant, the stage collapsed beneath her, and she plummeted into the void, surrounded by the shrill laughter of Su Xiao and the other girls. She jolted awake, heart pounding, a sheen of cold sweat prickling her back. Outside the window, the sky was just beginning to lighten. It was barely past five in the morning. She sat up, rubbing her throbbing temples. The dream's intoxicating vanity of being watched tangled with the terror of the fall, leaving her restless. Her gaze drifted to the desk, where the deep brown diary lay quietly, like a solidified shadow in the dim morning light. The impulsive line she'd scrawled the night before now looked childish and ridiculous. Swap lives? Impossible. She tugged at the corner of her mouth in self-mockery. It must be the stress lately, nothing more—enough to conjure such an absurd dream. She shoved the diary to the bottom of her backpack, burying it under a stack of thick workbooks. Out of sight, out of mind. At school that day, everything was the same as always. She went out of her way to avoid any contact with Su Xiao, like a wary, wounded little animal. Su Xiao seemed to have completely forgotten the minor incident from lunch the day before—or perhaps it had meant nothing to her at all. She still shone like a star, chatting and laughing with her friends, gearing up for the all-school English speech contest that afternoon. Lin Wan had heard that Su Xiao had prepared for weeks for this, aiming straight for the city-level finals. It was another world entirely, one that had nothing to do with her. During the second class that afternoon, the entire school gathered in the auditorium. Lin Wan claimed the most obscure seat in the corner, tucking herself into the shadow of a pillar. She hadn't wanted to come, but her homeroom teacher had made attendance mandatory. The stage blazed with lights as the contestants took their turns. When Su Xiao's moment arrived, she glided to the microphone in a crisp white dress, poised and assured. She offered a slight bow, and the audience erupted in warm applause. Her speech flowed flawlessly—standard pronunciation, graceful intonation, gestures perfectly timed. It was all but impeccable. Lin Wan watched that radiant figure on stage, her heart a churn of conflicting flavors. Envy, a pang of bitterness, and—something she scarcely dared admit—a sliver of dark anticipation. What if... what if she tripped up somehow? The thought flickered and she recoiled, shoving it down deep. Just then, Su Xiao reached the speech's pivotal moment, a climactic line demanding raw emotion. She drew a deep breath and parted her lips— The sound cut off. It wasn't a forgotten word. It was as if something had suddenly clamped around her throat. A flash of utter shock and panic crossed her flawless face. She tried again, but all that came out was a string of meaningless rasps, like the wheeze of a rusted bellows. Her mouth worked futilely, gaping and closing like a fish flung onto dry land. The audience fell into stunned silence at first, then a ripple of stifled whispers spread. "What's going on?" "Forgot her lines?" "Doesn't look like it—look at her face..." Su Xiao froze onstage, her color draining from flushed pink to ghostly white, then to a sickly green. Her knuckles whitened on the microphone from the strain. The spotlight bathed her now not in glory, but in the searing glare of public execution. She cast a desperate glance at her advisor below, who gestured encouragement with a face taut with worry. But it was no use. Seconds ticked by, the air thick with awkwardness and pity. In her corner, Lin Wan's heart clenched as if gripped by an invisible fist. Watching Su Xiao's helpless flailing, the initial flicker of schadenfreude lasted only a heartbeat before giving way to something far more tangled. It felt almost like... fear. A faint, burning sting prickled the inside of her left wrist. Instinctively, she glanced down and rolled up her uniform sleeve. There, on her skin, a mark had appeared from nowhere—a thin line, about an inch long, as if traced with the faintest ink. It was so pale that it might escape notice unless you looked closely, but the crisp, straight stroke was no accidental scratch. Lin Wan's breath hitched. She snapped her head up to the stage, where Su Xiao still writhed in futile silence, then jerked it back down to the eerie black line on her wrist. An absurd, bone-chilling thought exploded in her mind like thunder. No... impossible! It had to be coincidence! Su Xiao was just too nervous, a temporary loss of voice. This line... she must have brushed it somewhere without realizing! She rubbed at it fiercely with her right thumb, chafing the skin red. But the line held fast, as if etched into her flesh itself—unmoved, its color unchanged. The onstage chaos finally ended when a teacher hurried up to escort Su Xiao away. The contest pressed on, but the mood had soured completely. Whispers buzzed everywhere about her mishap. Lin Wan heard none of it. She sat there, chilled to the bone, squirming in her seat. That faint black line on her wrist coiled like a cold serpent against her skin, silently flicking its tongue. The rest of the time dragged on, endless and excruciating. When the dismissal bell rang, Lin Wan bolted from the auditorium first, practically sprinting home. She locked her bedroom door behind her and slumped against it, gasping for air, her heart threatening to burst from her chest. With shaking hands, she fished the diary from the depths of her backpack. In her eyes now, the deep brown cover seemed to exude an ominous aura. She flung it onto the desk and backed away, as if from some plague. Was it this? Could it really be because of this? That ridiculous wish she'd jotted down, never once taking it seriously... She glared at the diary, her mind a storm of chaos. Fear, doubt, and a covert thrill—the thrill of wielding some forbidden power—twisted together like vines. She recalled the old man's eerie gaze at the flea market, his words: "This one's just right for you." Had he... not been joking? Lin Wan inched toward the desk, one hesitant step at a time. Her fingertips trembled as she brushed the rough cover. A chill seeped from it into her skin. She opened the diary and found the line she'd written the day before, the ink still sharply embossed on the page. If only I could swap lives with Su Xiao. Her eyes lingered on the unspoken plea for humiliation embedded there, then lifted to the inexplicable black line on her wrist. The devil's contract, it seemed, had been sealed without her even realizing. And in scribbling that line, she'd unwittingly paid the first... installment? She didn't know what the full price entailed, but this mark was no good omen. Lin Wan slammed the diary shut and locked it away in the bottom drawer of her desk. No more. She couldn't touch it again! She swore it to herself. Yet deep down, a tiny voice whispered: What if... what if it really could make wishes come true? What if it could shatter this suffocating life? The idea took root like a poisoned seed, sprouting silently. Outside, night deepened. Lin Wan sat at her desk, staring at her shadow—elongated and solitary under the lamplight—and for the first time felt that the wheel of fate had veered, the moment her fingers met that diary, toward an unknown darkness laced with temptation and peril. And that faint black line on her wrist, under the light, seemed just a touch sharper than before.