The Unlucky Black Cat

chapter 5

"On May 10, 2020, I once again thought about death."

In the cluttered room, with the sound of keystrokes, these words were left on the glowing computer screen.

A young man, sitting cross-legged at the desk, wore a pair of dull black-rimmed glasses and was dressed in a greenish-brown plaid shirt and loose khaki shorts. His eyes stared blankly at a text document.

He seemed to be frozen in place, yet he appeared to be pondering something.

After a long while, his fingers moved again.

He deleted the date "May 10" and changed it to "May 10th."

Because he felt it would read more smoothly that way.

But then, he began to question the appropriateness of the phrase "to die."

He wondered if using this term in the text might seem overly dramatic.

So, what could he change it to?

The young man deliberated from beginning to end, even reading the entire sentence aloud to better grasp the nuances.

Thus, another six or seven minutes passed.

When he suddenly came to, he rejected the idea of changing the wording because other terms seemed less fitting.

So, it would stay as is for now.

Hmm...

Finally, after about ten minutes, the young man had settled on the first sentence for a character's suicide note.

"On May 10, 2020, I once again thought about death."

Then, he continued writing into the empty computer document, penning a self-posed question and answer.

"Why do I want to die? The reasons are perhaps hard to explain, and describing them would likely seem absurd."

His brows furrowed again, and he began to make endless revisions to the content.

"Why do I want to die? The reasons are perhaps hard to explain. To describe them accurately, they might still seem absurd to many."

"As for why I want to die, the reasons are perhaps hard to explain, and describing them might still seem absurd."

"As for why I want to die, the reasons are perhaps hard to explain, and describing them, they might still seem absurd to many."

In such meaningless changes,

the young man read the simple statement dozens of times, breaking down each word, examining it closely, and repeatedly savoring it.

Yet, he couldn't find a context he deemed accurate. Sometimes, he got so engrossed that he continuously checked punctuation and sentence breaks.

Ordinary words gradually became incredibly complex in his eyes.

In the subsequent narration, he even deliberated:

whether the same words should not appear consecutively, whether the paragraphs should rhyme, whether the total number of words could be evenly divided by the chapter numbers.

He tried to make his writing neat.

But then, he realized his behavior was pathological, so he wanted to break the mold.

Unexpectedly, this thought only tightened the constraints.

This cycle repeated itself.

Until finally, the young man's thoughts turned into a tangled mess.

"Ahh!"

Finally, he cried out, collapsed on the table, and grabbed his hair.

In the second year of living alone, Wen He felt that he had lost his talent for writing.

He had developed an obsessive-compulsive disorder stemming from specific factors, which led to numerous symptoms of anxiety and depression. Consequently, he had to take medication to adjust his daily life.

He felt like he was going mad, yes, almost driven insane by the chaotic text and paragraphs, the illogical sentences.

It was as if countless voices were arguing over unsolvable questions, forcing him to provide answers.

But Wen He didn't know the answers, so the voices in his ears wouldn't stop.

"Hah..."

Amidst the piled-up clutter, the young man, having vented his emotions, breathed heavily.

He wanted the voices in his head to quiet down.

At this moment, he desperately wanted them to stop.

...

Recently, Jiang Sheng found a new way to find food.

Unlike accepting others' charity or scavenging leftovers from restaurants, he adopted a more "dignified" method to sustain himself.

In short, this behavior is usually called hunting.

Yes, Jiang Sheng learned to hunt in the city.

As for where his "hunting ground" is, it's actually not surprising; it's precisely in a riverside area at the edge of the city.

The water there is not deep and connects to a small stream, so wild fish often swim by in groups.

This undoubtedly provided Jiang Sheng with an excellent spot for fishing.The spacious and clear riverbed provided perfect conditions for it to maximize its advantages. The black cat's method of fishing was roughly as follows: first, it allowed the black aura emanating from its body to "disrupt" the behavior of the fish, making them unlucky and sluggish. Then, like a stone, it would wait quietly in a spot it deemed suitable, waiting for an unsuspecting fish to swim by. Finally, it would use its sharp claws and fangs, along with its superior strength compared to ordinary house cats, to break through the water and capture its prey. It must be admitted that this method had a bit of the flavor of waiting for rabbits by a tree stump. However, the techniques involved were vastly different. Luck, patience, and strength were all essential—this was Jiang Sheng's way of survival. "Meow!" With a fierce meow, another palm-sized grass carp was slapped onto the riverbank, flapping weakly. Slowly walking over, Jiang Sheng used its mouth to pick up the fish by the belly. Ignoring the strong fishy smell, Jiang Sheng's taste buds made it purr contentedly. At this moment, it had to admit that the resentment within it wasn't entirely useless. "Resentment," this was the name Jiang Sheng gave to the black aura brewing inside its body. There was no special reason or speculation; it was just that the concepts weren't particularly auspicious, so Jiang Sheng equated them. Regarding control over the resentment, Jiang Sheng had made no progress thus far. It seemed that any living creature near it for a long time would be affected by this ominous aura, leading to a string of bad luck. The degree of misfortune varied, and Jiang Sheng couldn't discern any pattern. From the fish's perspective, sometimes it was just a momentary lapse in concentration, while other times it led to sudden death, leaving Jiang Sheng unsure how to even approach eating them. "Rip." Tearing off a piece of snow-white fish meat neatly, Jiang Sheng lay on the grass by the riverside, wagging its tail and enjoying its lunch. Its days remained peaceful, not even disturbing the occasional butterfly that flew by, aside from the unfortunate fish. A week after Xia Zi moved away, Jiang Sheng, who had only watched her leave, returned to its carefree life.