A Conversation Between Two Souls
753 Words
The curtain swayed gently—
Light enough to be scattered with a single breath.
But Su Rui’s heartbeat pounded so loud, it felt like her chest might split.
Pressed tightly against the wall, she clutched the windowsill with all her strength, knuckles white, a cold sheen of sweat forming on her forehead.
Her breath came out in shallow puffs through her nose, terrified that the smallest sound would give her away.
Through that thin layer of fabric, she could hear Shen Yichen’s every step—each one landing on her heart like a blow.
He was too close.
She could smell it—
That clean, faint scent on him,
Like his old shirts,
Like the lingering warmth after he got into the car.
Once so familiar—now it pressed on her chest like a weight.
He stood by the window.
One simple lift of that curtain, and everything would collapse.
But just at that critical moment—
The door swung open.
“Mr. Shen, sorry to interrupt.”
A nurse’s voice came through—polite but firm.
“The patient needs to undergo routine checks. We’ll need you to step out for a bit.”
The tension snapped like a broken string.
His footsteps paused for a moment.
Then he answered coolly, “Alright.”
He left.
The door shut again. Silence returned.
Su Rui didn’t move.
She remained frozen like stone, until she heard the sounds of medical equipment being adjusted, the nurse tidying up.
A few minutes later, the nurse left too.
Only then did she allow herself to move.
Lifting the curtain, she stepped out from the corner one step at a time—like someone crawling back from the edge of a cliff.
The room was quiet.
Too quiet.
Only the steady beeping of the monitor echoed—a rhythm so precise, it felt cruel.
She walked to the bedside and looked down at that face—
Her face, but no longer hers.
“You really picked the perfect time to lie down,” she said quietly.
“Everyone still thinks you’re just ‘asleep,’ but I know…
this body stopped being yours long ago.”
As she spoke, she suddenly froze.
That motionless hand—
Trembled, just slightly.
She stopped breathing.
An eyelid twitched.
“…Lin Yueying?”
She couldn’t help but speak.
The person on the bed didn’t open her eyes—
But her lips moved ever so faintly, as if a voice had traveled up from the depths of a distant abyss:
“I… am… here…”
Su Rui stood stunned.
Something inside her split open.
“You… you’re awake?”
“Not awake… just… felt you were here… so I came to see…”
The voice was faint—like a dream.
Or an echo.
Su Rui stepped closer.
Her fists clenched tight.
“You… really are Lin Yueying?”
“…Yes… I am…”
Su Rui opened her mouth—
But nothing came out.
Too many questions clogged her throat.
Why her?
What had happened to this body?
What was she supposed to do now?
But in the end, all she said was—
“Do you know… this body… it’s not going to last much longer?”
“…I know… always knew…
That’s why… I just wanted to leave something behind…”
Su Rui’s eyes suddenly turned red.
She thought of the old diary.
The white dress.
That dance.
All those small sentences filled with unspoken wishes.
“That dance… it was your dream, wasn’t it?”
“…Yes… thank you… for dancing it… for me…”
Su Rui drew in a breath.
She didn’t know what else to say.
But before she could ask more, Lin Yueying’s lips trembled—
Her voice faded.
Her breathing grew gentle once again.
And then—
She drifted back to sleep.
As if that brief conversation
had been no more than a breeze
passing through the cracks of consciousness.
Su Rui stood still for a long time.
Looking at the sleeping face on the bed,
a strange sense of familiarity settled over her—
not with her own features,
but with the soul inside.
With this woman named Lin Yueying.
A quiet kinship began to bloom in her chest—
as if a fine, invisible thread
had been pulled gently
from the depths of her memory.
She furrowed her brows.
That feeling…
It didn’t feel like it belonged to who she was now.
It felt like—
Something long buried
had just begun to stir.
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