Diary of exchange

Chapter 8

Echoes of the Abyss

That brief, chilling eye contact with Su Xiao had lodged itself in Lin Wan's heart like a thorn. She began to suffer from insomnia, lying awake night after night, ears attuned to the faint sounds beyond the window, feeling the mark on her left arm writhe silently in the darkness like some living thing.

She no longer dared to use the diary casually. The violent backlash from her last wish—"to make her betrayed by all her loved ones"—and the mark's frenzied growth had left her with a lingering dread. The cost was like a predatory loan, compounding with interest until she could scarcely afford to pay it back.

But the "exchange" did not halt just because she had stopped. It seemed to have taken on a life of its own, forging an invisible conduit between her and Su Xiao, relentlessly siphoning and infusing something unnamed.

Su Xiao grew even more withdrawn, her temper flaring more readily. She barely spoke to anyone now, and when her gaze occasionally drifted toward Lin Wan, it carried not just the previous scrutiny but a colder layer, laced with hatred and some indefinable terror. It was as if she had begun to pin all her recent misfortunes, however obliquely, on this classmate she had once overlooked, who now struck her as ever more glaringly obtrusive.

Lin Wan, meanwhile, felt like a woman fracturing into multiple selves. She would hear a joke and feel a surge of Su Xiao's signature disdain in her chest, only to recoil in horror at her own thoughts the next instant. When she stood before the mirror, she would painstakingly rehearse the timid smile that belonged to "Lin Wan," yet that face felt increasingly alien to her.

They were like two drowning souls lashed together against their will, bobbing in the vortex of fate—hating each other, yet inseparable.

The thing that shattered this eerie standoff was a crisis that struck without warning.

The city's middle school arts festival was underway, and the school had a group dance performance in the lineup, with Su Xiao as the undisputed lead. This was her chance to reclaim her spotlight and restore her reputation. She threw herself into rehearsals with ferocious intensity, even shoving all her darker moods aside for the time being.

But three days before the show, during a crucial full run-through, Su Xiao slipped on the way down from the stage steps. Without any prelude, she tumbled from a height of nearly a meter!

"Ah—!"

A sharp cry cut the air, followed by the dull thud of impact.

Chaos erupted on the spot. The instructor and her classmates rushed forward. Su Xiao clutched her right ankle, her face drained of color from the pain, beads of cold sweat breaking out on her forehead; she couldn't even muster words.

"Ankle sprain! Might be a break!"

"Quick—to the infirmary!"

"Call the school doctor! Dial 120!"

In the clamor of voices, Lin Wan stood at the edge of the crowd, her face paler than Su Xiao's.

In the instant Su Xiao fell, a searing, vise-like agony had stabbed through Lin Wan's left leg—precisely at the ankle. The pain was so visceral that she nearly buckled, staggering before she caught herself on the back of a nearby chair.

She clamped her lips shut to stifle a cry.

What was happening?

Why did Su Xiao's injury make her feel the pain too?!

Could it be... that this "exchange" had burrowed so deep it now shared physical wounds as well?!

Panic cascaded over her like ice water from above, chilling her limbs. She stared at Su Xiao, swarmed by the crowd and writhing in agony, then glanced down at her own unscathed yet faintly throbbing ankle. A more horrifying thought slithered into her mind like a venomous serpent—

Was this really an accident?

Or... was it the delayed, more vicious toll exacted by her earlier wish "to make her betrayed by all her loved ones"? Was the curse inflicting ongoing harm on Su Xiao in ways she could never anticipate?

If the latter, then hadn't she become, indirectly... a murderer?

The notion churned her stomach, nausea rising in a bitter wave.

The ambulance arrived swiftly. Su Xiao was loaded onto it, the instructor riding along to the hospital. Those left in the rehearsal hall exchanged uneasy glances, murmurs rippling through the heavy air.

"It's over—the lead dancer's hurt. What now for the show?"

"Su Xiao's luck is rotten..."

"Could it be someone..." Wang Rui's voice trailed off suggestively as she shot a glance at Lin Wan—not loud, but loud enough for the handful of people nearby to catch it.

Lin Wan snapped her head up, fixing Wang Rui with a gaze of unprecedented iciness and sharpness. That look made Wang Rui flinch involuntarily, silencing her before she could press on.

Lin Wan ignored her and turned to leave the rehearsal hall. She moved slowly, each step sending a distinct phantom ache through her left ankle.

She returned to the now-deserted classroom and sank into her seat, the dying sunlight stretching her shadow long across the floor.

She raised her left hand and slowly rolled up her sleeve.

The bluish-black mark had spread to her upper arm, like a grotesque, ever-expanding birthmark—or some ancient, malevolent totem. It was no longer just a visual horror; it carried a tangible chill, a cold linkage to Su Xiao's fate.

Su Xiao's ankle throbbed with pain.

Her arm burned hot.

The bond between them ran deeper than she had imagined—deeper, and far more... sanguinary.

Lin Wan pressed her forehead to the cool surface of the desk and closed her eyes.

She had thought she was merely exacting revenge, waging a rebellion against an unjust fate.

But now she saw that when she had peered into the abyss, the abyss had long since gazed back—and dragged her into a darker mire, one thick with suffering and sin.

She was not just losing herself; she was shoving another soul toward ruin with her own hands.

And this road to ruin... it seemed there was no turning back.