Diary of exchange

Chapter 10

The Silent Warning

Su Xiao's words—"Why do I keep dreaming that I'm turning into you?"—clung to Lin Wan like a curse, day and night. She felt like a clown stripped bare and tossed under the glare of spotlights, every secret laid raw before the pained, probing gaze in Su Xiao's eyes.

The air between them had grown even stranger. No longer just outright hostility, but a tense standoff of mutual wariness and scrutiny, laced with some unspeakable, sickly bond. The way Su Xiao looked at her had deepened in complexity—sometimes a chill of pure hatred, other times a dazed confusion, and every now and then, a flicker that sent a chill straight through Lin Wan, something akin to... shared misery.

No. Impossible. Lin Wan shut down the thought at once. How could someone like Su Xiao ever pity her in the same way?

She had to find a way to end it all. Before things spiraled completely out of control—before she fully became someone else, or Su Xiao shattered under the assault of dreams and reality.

Her thoughts turned once more to Chen Mo. That observer who'd issued his warning in the rain. He had to know something. He was the only one who might be able to help.

This time, Lin Wan didn't hold back. During a break between classes, she spotted Chen Mo heading alone toward the rooftop of the school building—the spot where he sometimes went to sketch. She drew in a deep breath and followed.

The wind up on the rooftop was fierce, whipping her school uniform jacket into a flapping frenzy. Chen Mo sat with his back to her, perched on the short wall at the edge, his sketchpad propped on his knees as he traced something against the hazy city skyline in the distance. Under the vast expanse of sky, his silhouette seemed profoundly solitary.

Lin Wan stopped a few paces behind him.

"Chen Mo." Her voice came out scattered on the gusts.

His hand paused on the page, but he didn't turn. He just murmured a soft "Mm," as if he'd been expecting her all along.

"What you said last time..." Lin Wan mustered her courage, her voice laced with a tremor she couldn't quite hide. "'The more you gain, the more you might lose'... Do you... know about that diary?"

She fixed her gaze on his back, her heart lodged in her throat.

Chen Mo went still for a few seconds, the only sound the rustle of wind over paper. Then he set down his pencil, turned, and hopped off the wall. His eyes settled calmly on Lin Wan's face before drifting lower, coming to rest on her left arm—the one she hid beneath her long sleeve, though its unnatural outline still betrayed it.

There was no surprise in his gaze, only a profound, knowing gravity.

"I'm not sure," he said, his voice steady but carrying a quiet weight. "But my grandmother used to talk about some old sayings... about 'swapping fates.'"

"Swapping fates?" Lin Wan's stomach dropped.

"Yeah." Chen Mo nodded, his eyes drifting to the horizon. "She said there are ancient things that can forcibly tie two people's fortunes together. You gain the other's strengths, but you shoulder their misfortunes too. It's more like... a curse. And..."

He paused, turning back to her with a sharpening intensity. "Once that link starts, it's like a boulder rolling downhill. Hard to stop. Forcing it apart could destroy you both."

Destroy you both...

Lin Wan's face drained to the color of ash. She felt stripped of every facade, standing there exposed, the truth slamming into her like a physical blow.

"That... that diary..."

"It might just be a conduit." Chen Mo cut her off, his stare seeming to pierce the fabric and fix on the ugly mark beneath. "The real key isn't the diary itself. It's... the wish you made. And the connection that's already formed between you two."

He took a step closer, narrowing the distance, and Lin Wan could see clearly now the unnatural calm in his eyes for someone their age—and the worry beneath it.

"Lin Wan, stop it." His voice was low and grave. "Whatever drove you to start this, pulling back now might still work. Otherwise, in the end, you might not be able to tell who you are... or who she is."

You might not be able to tell who you are... or who she is.

The words crushed the fragile composure Lin Wan had been clinging to. Her body swayed, nearly buckling.

So he knew. He'd known all along what she was doing—what abyss she was tumbling toward.

"I... I tried..." Her voice cracked into a sob, raw with helplessness and terror. "I locked it up, but it didn't matter! The exchange keeps going! I can't control it!"

In a surge of desperation, she yanked up her sleeve, baring the mark that had crept down below her collarbone, a gleaming bruise of blue-black. "Look! It's still growing! It won't stop!"

Chen Mo stared at the shocking scar, his pupils contracting slightly, brows knitting tight. He fell silent for a moment before speaking, measured and slow. "You can seal the conduit, maybe. But once the connection's made, it's like floodgates thrown open. Unless... you fix it at the source."

"The source?" Lin Wan latched onto the words like a lifeline, her question urgent. "How?"

But Chen Mo only shook his head, a trace of helplessness in his eyes. "I don't know. Grandma never said. Maybe... track down whoever gave you the diary? Or... the two of you need to... agree on it together?"

Agree on it together? Her and Su Xiao? That was absurd! Su Xiao hated her to the bone!

The spark of hope she'd just kindled snuffed out under the weight of reality. The light in Lin Wan's eyes dimmed to nothing, leaving only utter bewilderment and despair.

Chen Mo watched her unraveling, and let out a soft sigh. He unclipped the quick sketch from his pad and held it out to her.

On the paper, charcoal lines etched a brooding sky, with two indistinct figures standing back-to-back. They were close, but their shadows behind them twisted together in a bizarre tangle, inseparable—like a single, malformed entity fused at the core.

"Here. For you," Chen Mo said quietly.

Lin Wan took the drawing, her fingers brushing the snarled shades on the page, a chill seeping through her whole body.

The image foretold her future more vividly than words ever could.

She looked up, questions burning on her lips, but Chen Mo had already slung his pad over his shoulder and was heading for the rooftop door.

"All I can do is warn you," he said, pausing at the threshold without turning. "The rest of the path... that's yours to walk."

With that, he pulled the door open and stepped through. It swung shut behind him, muffling the wind from below—and severing Lin Wan's last fragile thread of hope.

She stood alone on the barren rooftop, clutching the sketch, staring at those two shadows locked in their endless coil. A vast terror and isolation rose like icy waters, swallowing her whole.

Stop it?

It was far too late.

The gates were open. The flood raged.

And she had nowhere to run.