“你是想做伊甸园里，听话完美的孩子，
还是想变成流落人间，饱受摧残的智者呢？
真正能救你自己的，只有你自己。”
"Would you rather be the obedient, perfect child in Eden’s embrace,
or the weary sage, cast down to wander a broken world?
The only one who can truly save you, is yourself."
Cover design: Yuwan Zhang, Lia Lee
Trigger Warning: This piece contains content that some listeners may find distressing or triggering.
注意：本作品包含可能引起不适或触发情绪的内容，请酌情聆听。
峪晚彰首张小说印象曲《青空与鸟儿 (ft. poetic gremlin)》，已登陆各大音乐平台。
Yuwan Zhang’s first image music for the dystopian fiction Letters From A Blue Bird, the original single “Blue Sky and the Bird” (ft. poetic gremlin), is now available on all mainstream music platforms.
2024年的春天，读了我的朋友Poetic Gremlin的短篇小说，非常震撼。当时这篇文章的标题叫《青空与鸟儿》，打开第一句是，“原标题：《这个操蛋的世界》”。读完我就和她说，我会做一首基于这个小说的印象曲。读完的半年，整个故事情节始终萦绕在脑海，去年10月13号创了工程文件，然后今天，离第一次读这篇小说正好一年后，印象曲《青空与鸟儿》问世。这是我第一次写小说印象曲，我也马上要从影视配乐毕业了。这或许是我第一次制作这么吵的音乐，但整个过程非常有趣。大概近两年前入学前，我的目标是要成为久石让那样写出漂亮音乐的作曲家。现在好像在往完全相反的奇怪方向发展了（？进阶成职业噪声制造者了），但我很开心。
我也逐渐摸索出音乐于我并非是旋律和曲子，不仅是用来让人快乐的东西，而是一种表达，是声波。这篇也是公众号开了近十年来第一次和朋友合作，感谢Poetic Gremlin给我探索自我的灵感。那么接下来请欣赏天才作家Poetic Gremlin的作品，《青鸟的信》。
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寄读者：希望每个人都能够有找到自己的勇气。
《青鸟的信》
Poetic Gremlin
- 世界是一张捕捉真我的大网，父母是最亲近的帮凶。
文绪是父母教养出来最乖的孩子。
他举手投足都儒雅，说话文明，成绩优异。老师们都很喜欢他，同学们也艳羡地朝他对齐。
只是文绪有一个问题。每到夜里，文绪都需要重新设置。他在新的一天里会产生一些反叛的、不该有的想法。这些想法都要通过文绪重新设置一遍思维才能清除。但别担心，他的爸爸妈妈很爱他，总是会给他吃止痛药的。
这是无法死亡的世界。只有到了设定的年龄，造物主要你去了，你才能走。
这个世界里最大的美德，就是听父母的话。
听父母的话的话，就会变成一个好孩子，一个完美的孩子，一个孝顺的孩子。
做得到父母要你做的事的话，还有可能被选去成为模范人。这是每一个公民都想要的。
文绪今年十八。非常有望成为年度的青年模范人。
父母对他极具厚望，让文绪一定要保持全校第一的成绩，拿到合唱团的独唱，成为足球队里的MVP，然后被同学们投票再次蝉联学生会长。
文绪微笑着对父母保证，他一定会做到。
秋季学期的一天，文绪作为班长来到了老师办公室。那里有一个人，她是一名新学生，一个新的居民。老师介绍了她，她的名字叫做丽瑞。她有一头板岩一般，黑黑的的长发。回头时还有一副同样深色的、安静的眼睛。
文绪微笑着介绍自己，他说他是这个班级的班长，也是学生会长，有什么不懂的尽管来问他。女孩笑了笑，说好。
过后，两个人走在走廊里。阳光从窗户的铁栏杆穿过，整齐地散在地上。丽瑞说她喜欢美术，问这里的美术部怎么样。文绪笑着回答，这里的美术部是非常优秀的，每个人都得过奖。他带丽瑞去看了美术部的展览，里面大卫苹果，应有尽有。每幅画都画得和实物别无二致，技艺十分高超。丽瑞看了一圈，没有点评，又问摄影部。文绪就带着她，跨过地上铁栏杆的影子，去了摄影部的展览。那里拍了许多名人伟事。丽瑞又没有说话，又问电影部。这下文绪有一点沉不住气了。他问，丽瑞同学，对这些优秀的作品，没有什么想法吗？
不称赞吗？他想道。这实在是一个心高于天的女孩。
“文绪同学喜欢这些作品吗？喜欢什么？”
喜欢什么？哼，当然是——
文绪正要回答，脑子却慢了起来。喜欢什么，喜欢什么呢？这些作品很优秀，毋庸置疑，但他喜欢什么呢？他不知道。
他就这样回答了。他不知道，但这些作品就是很优秀。
优秀和喜欢可不是一回事，陈丽瑞这样回答他。
他一时语塞，又觉得有些生气。就转身朝电影部走去，说，你不是要看吗？那就来吧。
陈丽瑞就跟着他来了。
到了电影放映室，他进去，给拿出这几年得奖的片子。问她要看哪部，知不知道这些电影。陈丽瑞摇摇头。他就开始给她讲解起来，这一部是讲优秀模范人铲除异己的故事；这一部，是讲一位伟大的母亲相夫教子的故事；这一部，是讲一个少女从道路迷失，到变成一个模范人的故事。陈丽瑞听完，说，她这里也有一个类似的电影，是她自己拍的，文绪要不要看。文绪顿时来了兴趣，好奇这个傲气的女子究竟会想讲一个怎样正能量的故事，立马就让她放映了。
电影开始了。
嗡——嗡——
电影磁带在放，但已经过了两分钟了，还是只有黑幕。
文绪指着，说你这磁带是不是拍坏了。
陈丽瑞让他等着。
过了几分钟，画面终于有其他的声响。是一个收音机被调试的声音。
一个男生的脸出现了。他戴着口罩，正在鼓弄收音机。文绪却觉得他十分眼熟。他狐疑地看了陈丽瑞一眼，见她专心致志，便没有多言。
过了一会儿，他把收音机塞到他的手提包里。拉链没有拉紧，一半画面还可以看到男生走路的情形，天上的铁鸟，和高楼的海报。
收音机里在放一个外国乐队的歌。文绪虽然从来没有听过，但是他精通外语，听到歌手在唱：
“Singing in the dead of night,
Take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life…
You were only waiting for this moment to be arise…”
真是奇怪的歌词，他评价。
过了一会，男生到了学校。放在地上，画面上只能看到一些走动的脚，但是大家都来和这个男生打招呼。
“早上好，班长！”
“你精神看起来很好，班长！”
文绪满意地抱起手臂。什么嘛，陈丽瑞虽然拍的手法劣糙了些，但还是正能量向上的电影嘛。
课上的作业收了。
“班长，你的作业呢？”
“我的已经给老师了，你不用担心。”
“哈哈，大学霸当然会提前交了！”
男孩这样说着，却从手提包里偷偷拿出一个田字格本，塞进书桌里。
文绪皱着眉，这个班长竟然撒谎，带头不做好榜样！
过了一会儿，男孩站起来，往外走去。
“班长，马上就要上早操了，你去哪？”
“我去帮老师拿一下东西。”
他走了出去，脚步却没有往办公室走，而是朝着向上的楼梯走去。
文绪怒了，他站起来和陈丽瑞说，她这个主人公言行不端，不适合拿来做主人公。
陈丽瑞定睛看他，说：“坐下，你把它看完。”明明他不该怕她的，他也不是怕她。但他就是坐下来了，接着看。
男生上了顶楼，拿出一把钥匙打开了天台的门。
他还拿着收音机，刚才在教室静了音，这时又打开调大了音乐。还是同一首歌。
楼下早操主任正在播报这星期的要事，男生把收音机放到天台的边上，然后自己也站上去了。他把双臂张开，风从腋下穿过，吹得他的白衬衫鼓起来，哗哗作响。
这时相机突然切到男生的正脸了。
那是文绪他自己。
文绪一下子从椅子上站起来。
文绪一下子跳了下去。
“这是什么东西？！这拍的是什么故事？怎么能有人自杀呢？而且，而且怎么能是我的脸呢？我才不会做那种事，我可是完美的！”
文绪大骂着，情绪激动。陈丽瑞看着他，平静地站了起来。
“你不每天，都干着同样的事吗？”
文绪记得他跳下去的那一幕，看着起来像被风托起的鸟儿一般。
文绪惊醒。
他心跳极快地喘气，汗湿了所有衣服。他惊魂未定地环视自己的房间。
“原来是梦…”
真是一个奇怪的，吓人的梦。
“文绪？”母亲微笑着走进了房门，端着一杯水。“你还好吗？下午老师说你不舒服昏倒了，可把我吓坏了。”
“我…晕倒了？”
“对呀，你不记得了？”母亲拿手靠在他额头上。“哎呀，你看你，出了这么多汗。赶快喝点水。”
“妈妈，陈丽瑞呢？”他抓住母亲的手问。
“陈丽瑞是谁？”
“新同学，老师让我带她在学校里转转。我就记得晕倒之前在和她说话了。”
“不知道。那人家应该回家了吧。瞧瞧你，都病了还关心人家同学，真有责任心。”母亲刮了刮他的鼻子，给他喂了一口水。
“可是，妈妈，她给我看了好奇怪的电影。那电影我看完，就…”
他母亲脸色一变。“什么奇怪的电影？不会是黄色片吧。天啊，怎么会有这么恶心的同学。我现在就和你老师打电话去，投诉那个同学。”
“不是，她--”
“别担心，妈妈会跟老师沟通的，”母亲的脸上似有阴影，“绝不会让她毁了你今年评模范人的机会。”母亲在门前停下，看向他的床头柜。“记得把药喝了，然后重置，啊。把今天的坏事，都忘得干干净净吧。”
“…妈妈，我今天不舒服，可以不做了吗？”
母亲闻言，停下脚步来。她回过头，微微睁着眼，表情却严肃得可怕。
“你要不听妈妈的话吗？你不记得我生你养你多辛苦了吗？”
“不是的，妈妈。”文绪连忙抓起桌上的药，喝了下去。然后脱掉他的上衣，跪在地上，拿出床头柜第一节抽屉的匕首。
“这就对了，好孩子。”他母亲一下子笑起来，很是欣慰。“后面的妈妈就不看，你自己来啊。”门关上。
文绪看了看手里冰凉的匕首，仰起头。他想起陈丽瑞那部奇怪的电影里自己跳下楼的场景，真的像是白鸽。那样的自杀，和现在到底有什么区别呢？他抬起手。不能让自己再多想了，必须铲除这些不干净的想法。扑哧。他把匕首捅进心脏里。
第二天醒来，文绪果然感觉清爽又干净。
他十分有朝气地在房间里运动了一会儿——地上的血迹已经被妈妈清理得完全看不到痕迹——然后又打开窗子，吸入新鲜空气。
窗帘是白色的，在风中飘逸。
白鸽。
这个想法突然在他脑海里闪过，他想起陈丽瑞安静的眼睛，想起那奇怪的电影，想起自己从楼上跳下。最可怕的是，他想起了那些事情发生时，他所有的感情。
文绪一把扯下他的窗帘，叫它不能翻腾。然后冲进浴室里，赶紧拧开花洒把脑袋扎在冷水下。
他不能想这些。不能想这些。想这些他就疯了，他就没办法做完美的孩子了，就更不可能评模范人了，让父母亲高兴了。他不能成为其他的人，他必须要做文绪。而文绪是父母的孩子。
去学校的路上他一直发呆。路上的电瓶车不断对他嘀嘀大叫。
待会要是上了课陈丽瑞真的在班上怎么办？他会不会看到她就想起昨天那些奇怪的感觉？他到现在连那是不是梦未能确定。
脚步停下来。他路过的一家超市正在放那英文歌。
“Take these sunken eyes and learn to see, all your life…”里面的男声活泼，明亮！像劝说着听者什么好的事情。文绪拿出电话，把那家店举报了。
到了学校，文绪趴在门口小心翼翼地往教室里面望。教室静悄悄的，大家都安静地坐着。没有陈丽瑞。他松了口气。
身后传来声音，问班长你身体感觉好一点了吗？那是副班长的声音。
他转过去，说已经没事了。
副班长走进教室。文绪看着她，想起自己的母亲。自己的母亲也是位非常优秀的规范女性，副班长同样也头脑聪明，态度端正。他世界里的人都十分优秀，这叫人欣慰。
文绪大步走去办公室，脚步轻快，嘴着咧笑。
老师不遗余力地关心他身子，他说好多了，不遗余力地应承老师的关怀。老师说那好，开始给他布置今天的任务。他拿到点名表，扫了一圈，上面没有陈丽瑞的名字。
“是不是缺了什么人？”
文绪闻言抬头，吓了一跳。陈丽瑞正坐在他面前，穿着老师的衣服，拿着文件。她推了推眼镜，像在调笑他。文绪大叫一声，揉了揉眼睛，老师又坐了回来，正奇怪地看着他。
他一结巴，几乎咬到舌头。“老，老师，陈丽瑞呢？”
老师皱眉，说那个新的女同学被她妈妈投诉了，让她去别的班了。
“但但但是--”
门口传来两声轻叩。
“老师，我就要在这个班。”
两人扭头，陈丽瑞站在那里看着他们。突然，她周身的世界开始变化，空间折叠着，扭曲着要把她吞起来，可又似乎吞不进去，片刻之后消失了。不知道吞下的是什么。
文绪转头看老师。老师眨眨眼，说，哦，好。文绪呆住。
到了教室，老师向大家介绍陈丽瑞。说她是品学兼优的学生，转学来这里，让大家来热烈欢迎。
整个班级热烈鼓掌。
“那，陈丽瑞同学坐在—”
“老师，我可以坐在文绪同学的后面吗？”陈丽瑞指着他。
你在说什么呢？文绪想道。
老师却说，好啊。
文绪猛地一转头，那里原本是副班长的位置。现在却只有一副空桌椅。副班长完好地坐在另一个座位上。
老师对陈丽瑞说，文绪同学非常优秀，你要向他学习。
“好的，老师。”陈丽瑞笑着答应。文绪几乎要尿裤子。
午休，文绪叫陈丽瑞到七楼。她不紧不慢地走在他后面。他们站在顶层的楼梯间里面，在阳光没有照射到的地方。
文绪握紧拳头。这到底是怎么回事！他跳脚。你到底是谁？是什么？
“你可以把我理解为这个世界的bug，我不受你们规矩的约束。”
那你，陈丽瑞，为什么要出现在我面前？你想要什么？
“在你第一次死亡之前，你发出了求救信号，而我只是来救你而已。”
“你是说，那部电影，是我的求救信？”
陈丽瑞看着他衬衫上的口袋。心脏的位置。
“你，昨天，又杀死自己了吧？“
“什么？”
心脏上好像又被插了一刀。陈丽瑞正看着它，看得明明白白。
“我，我只是重置，为了不给爸妈惹麻烦而重置！”
“呵，”陈丽瑞轻笑，抬眼看他。“但是今天不管用了吧。”
文绪后退两步，跌进窗户洒进来的光。
“…你怎么知道？”
他捂着胸口。
陈丽瑞举起手，指向锁住的门。忽然，他们就站在了屋顶上。风从发间贯穿而过。
“过去，你曾经从那个栅栏那里，”那个与天空相接的楼栋边缘。“一跃而下——为的不是杀死你自己，而是你再不能忍受一天一天地把自己杀死了。”
一把风从文绪的衣摆里抽过，他似乎感受到了。向下飞去时空气的阻力，脚底的风。
但他看着她。这怎么可能呢？
“你不记得之前的事情了吧。”陈丽瑞看向楼下，风摆得她的白衬衫，黑发都在跳舞。“你跳下去了，但你没有死。你的父母用尽办法让你忘记了之前的一切，并且让你每天都重置。而一直认为自己完美的你，自然不会怀疑那藏在你身体里最深处的丑行。”
文绪自然不相信她。
但他此时心脏跳的又快又狠，好像某种本能反应似的，就要跳出他的胸膛冲过那天际线。
“那我之前，是怎么——”
“谁知道呢？在我看来，醒来是在容易不过的事情。但完美的梦做久了，是谁都不愿意醒来的吧。”
“你只是bug，对吗？那我怎么知道你没有在骗我，想引我去做错事，在这个世界里引发动乱。“
陈丽瑞坐在天台边上，哈哈大笑起来。
“那条蛇最大的罪过就是让人类变得不再完美。但正因为不再完美，才有了今天的我们。”
文绪当然知道陈丽瑞在说谁。他现在怀疑她就是那个撒旦的化身，前来引诱他吃下苹果罪恶的苹果。
“你自己回去好好想想吧。我可以使这个世界发生许多事情，但你是想做伊甸园里的听话完美的孩子，还是想变成流落人间饱受摧残的智者，你得自己选择。“陈丽瑞的声音在耳朵里放大，她说：“真正能救你自己的只有你自己。”
他沉默看地上自己的影子。
过一会儿，他抬头。他刚才听见门关了，陈丽瑞已经走了。只有一只鸟坐在天台边缘，见他醒来，快快地飞走了。
那天晚上，母亲坐在他面前，要求看着他杀死自己。
因老师打电话回家里，说他旷了一下午的课，母亲很是生气。打了他二十大勺，然后罚他跪下认错重置。
文绪告诉她说，自己听到一首歌，听到那首歌之后就神思不定。问妈妈，“我之前是不是发生过什么事情？我隐隐约约记得自己有过一台收音机，它现在在哪里？“
母亲黑着脸，坐在不开灯的屋子里。说不知道，不要胡思乱想，你马上要评模范人，那种东西有也早就扔了。你想要新的的话，多少个都可以再买。
文绪问，“妈妈你觉得我是好孩子吗？“
妈妈柔声说，你一直是好孩子。
他又问她，“妈妈您爱我对吧？“
你这说的什么话，我当然爱你，你是我的孩子。
文绪垂下头：“妈妈，我也想要快乐。“
妈妈顿了一下，转过头去。她回答你会快乐的，你走你父亲和我给你铺好的路，就一定会快乐的。
文绪就说，谢谢妈妈，您一定是尽了最大的努力。然后把匕首插进自己的胸口。
第二天是个安静的早晨。
男生装好书包，和父母道过别，亲吻他们的额头。
他拎着手提包走到学校，进了校园一直有同学给他打招呼。
他仰头向上看，天空似乎从未有今日如此之蓝，如此让他心驰神往。
昨天回教室之后，他没再见到陈丽瑞。后座位变回了副班长的位置。他翘了五六七节的课，去了电影放映室。
他在电影部里翻箱倒柜，但所有人都在上课的安静下午，只有他自己和他的思想对峙。再打开那些优秀的影片，里面的东西却不能让他再感到一丝快乐和正能量，他害怕极了。
在杂货间里，一台旧的收音机摔在他的脚下。
他蹲下来，里面断断续续的歌传出来。
歌词在唱，“You were only waiting for this moment to be free--
you were only waiting for this moment to be free…”
一遍又一遍。像某种咒语，又像某种警示。
这个时刻意味是什么。自由又意味着是什么。文绪站起来。
这时，收音机里传来磁带更换的声音。他听到一个男声。
“文绪，文绪，如果你在听。”
声音很熟悉。
“你听我说。”
是听过的声音。
“我就是你。我就是那个被你杀死过无数次的你。”
此时的手提包里，正装着那个收音机。
副班长点点他的肩膀，说，班长，今天的演讲你写好了吗？
文绪笑着说，没有，但我知道要说什么。副班长奇怪地看着他。
文绪不管，拿上收音机，朝外走。
班长，马上要早读了，你去哪？
文绪回过头，他说：
“我答应帮老师拿点东西，我去去就回。”
副班长说好。
文绪觉得，那不是给陈丽瑞的求救信。
那是给他自己的求救信。
声音对他说：
“文绪，你要飞。你不能困在这里。”
就像白鸽一样吗？他确实想飞，想飞到哪里不知道。但他必须出去。
“文绪，你必须做自己。自己不是完美的。”
学校每层的楼梯有十阶。每个人走上去都一阶一阶走，从不跨长步。他从来没注意过。
“文绪，我想活下去。”
其实他昨天晚上刺自己的时候，没有吃止疼药。
“你也想活下去，对吗？”
文绪走到了七楼。
他摸了一把自己的衣服口袋，心脏位置的。钥匙果然坐在里面。
推开门，青空碧蓝，和世界衔接在一起。他站在边缘，看万里青风的天，看恣意翱翔的鸟。
门突然爆开。学校警铃大作。
同学们，同学们！我们的优秀学生会主席此时正想跳楼自杀，请各位同学一起合作，阻止这位潜力模范人的危险行为。
他的父母，老师和同学都冲了出来。
同学们，同学们！…
本来空无一人的操场突然呼呼啦啦涌出一堆移动的黑点，像一团黑压压的蚂蚁军。
文绪！凄厉的叫声像乌鸦。
他站在天台的边缘上，一切都变化的太快了。原以为不符合常理的只有陈丽瑞，现在面前的一切却都怪诞得很。
母亲的脸在融化。
孩子！！我就知道有问题，你是不是早恋了啊，你听话，妈妈都是为你好！
副班长张牙舞爪。
班长，你从来没有这么说过不管学习这种话！
班主任的嘴长成了血盆大口。文绪，回来！你是我们的希望啊。
同学们向他蜂拥而来，他们从窗户朝上爬，从烟囱里倒出，像玩具盒一般堆叠成一座山高的人海，挡住了日光，哭喊着，祈求着。
文绪本来就没想去死。
但他此时他也不知道他能去哪里去。
突然，一群鸟在上头青空里飞过。他们在众人身上洒下怪漂亮的影子，就连凄叫着的怪物也有一瞬间的失声，有几个人还从人山的顶尖滚落。他看到陈丽瑞俯冲过来，她对他喊道：
“飞吧！”
文绪不再回头，他张开双臂。从天台一跃而下。
全世界的风从他双臂间穿流而过，此时此刻，文绪大笑了起来。
陈丽瑞接住他，她是一只白鸽。长出了翅膀。
她笑着说，“我们走吧！”
文绪抓着她，自己也生出了翅膀。
他涕泪横流。
他说，
“好！”
天空为他们裂开了一条缝。
那后面，有宇宙，有真实，有文绪不知道的东西。
但他抓紧了那只鸟，抓紧了他自己。
English version:
In the spring of 2024, I read a short story by my friend Poetic Gremlin that left a profound impression on me. Rooted deeply in the shared experiences of the Chinese education system—through both family and school—it captured the sorrow and pain that marked our past (or at least mine and Poetic Gremlin’s). At the time, the story was titled Blue Sky and the Bird, though its opening line revealed the original name: “Original Title: This Fucked-Up World.” The moment I finished reading it, I told her without hesitation: I want to compose an impressionistic piece based on this story. In the months that followed, the plot continued to linger in my mind. On October 13th of last year, I created a new project file. And today, exactly one year after I first read the story, the impression piece Blue Sky and the Bird is finally complete.
This is the first time I’ve written a piece based on a novel, and I’m also about to graduate from film scoring. Perhaps this is also the first time I’ve ever composed something this noisy, but the process was incredibly fun. Nearly two years ago, before entering the program, my goal was to become a composer like Joe Hisaishi, someone who writes beautiful, lyrical music. Now it seems I’m moving in a completely different, perhaps bizarre direction—possibly becoming a professional noise-maker—but I’m happy about it.
The translation of the conversation text in the music are: “ (Quote from the novel) Would you rather be the obedient, perfect child in Eden’s embrace, or the weary sage, cast down to wander a broken world?" “You know what I want. I want freedom. (Hahahaha) I want to escape from here. (Do you know what are you talking about to me?) I want to escape from here. If I fall from here, will I have freedom? Or being shot by a gun. (Quote from the novel: I am you. I’m the you that you’ve killed again and again.) Can you give me freedom? Freedom.”“ (Quote from the novel) The only one who can save yourself, is…”
Gradually, I’ve come to understand that music, for me, is not about melody or harmony. It’s not just something meant to bring people joy. It is a form of expression. It is vibration. It is a sound wave. This also marks the first time in nearly a decade of running my public account that I’ve collaborated with a friend. I’m deeply grateful to Poetic Gremlin for inspiring me to explore myself through this process. And now, I invite you to read the work of this genius writer: Letters From A Bluebird, by Poetic Gremlin.
===========
To the Reader:
Hope everyone can find the courage within themselves.
Letters From A Bluebird
by Poetic Gremlin
The world is a vast net designed to snare the true self,
And parents are its closest accomplices.
Wenxu was the most obedient child his parents could have raised.
Every movement of his was graceful. He spoke with decorum. His grades were flawless. Teachers adored him. His classmates admired him and sought to align themselves with him.
But Wenxu had one problem.
Each night, he needed to reset himself.
With every new day, he would wake up with rebellious, inappropriate thoughts. To cleanse them, Wenxu would perform a mental reset. But there was no need to worry—his parents loved him very much. They always gave him painkillers.
In this world, death was impossible. You could only die when the Creator decided your time had come.
The greatest virtue in this world was obedience to your parents.
If you listened to your parents, you became a good child, a perfect child, a filial child.
If you fulfilled all your parents’ expectations, you might even be selected as a Model Citizen. That was what every citizen aspired to.
Wenxu was eighteen this year. He was a top candidate for the annual Youth Model Award.
His parents had high hopes for him. He was to maintain the top rank in school, win the solo part in the choir, become MVP on the soccer team, and be re-elected as student council president by his classmates.
Wenxu smiled and promised them that he would achieve it all.
One day during the fall semester, Wenxu, as class president, visited the teacher’s office. There was someone else there—a new student, a new resident. The teacher introduced her. Her name was Lirui. She had long, jet-black hair like slate, and when she turned to look at him, her eyes were just as dark and still.
Wenxu smiled and introduced himself. He said he was class president and also the president of the student council. “If you need anything,” he told her, “feel free to ask.” The girl smiled and nodded.
Afterward, they walked together down the hallway. Sunlight filtered through the iron window grilles and laid neat stripes on the floor.
Lirui said she liked art and asked what the school’s art club was like.
Wenxu smiled and said the art club was excellent. Everyone in it had won awards. He took Lirui to see the exhibition: still life paintings of apples, statues of David, everything rendered with lifelike precision. The technique was superb.
Lirui walked through the room quietly, said nothing, then asked about the photography club.
Wenxu led her there, stepping over the striped shadows of the grilles. The photography exhibit featured famous people and historic achievements. Lirui said nothing again, then asked about the film club.
At this point, Wenxu started to lose patience. He asked, “Lirui, don’t you have anything to say about all these excellent works?”
Don’t you want to compliment them? he thought. What a prideful girl.
Lirui turned to him and asked, “Wenxu, do you like these works? What do you like about them?”
Like? Hmph, of course—!
Wenxu opened his mouth to answer, but his brain stalled. What did he like? These pieces were excellent, no doubt, but did he like them?
He said the only thing he could. “I don’t know. But these works are excellent.”
“Excellence and liking aren’t the same thing,” Lirui replied calmly.
He was momentarily speechless, and a bit offended. He turned abruptly and said, “You want to see the film club, right? Come on then.”
Lirui followed him.
They arrived at the screening room. Wenxu went in and pulled out a stack of award-winning films. “Do you know any of these?” he asked.
Lirui shook her head.
Wenxu began explaining. “This one is about a Model Citizen cleansing society of dissidents. This one tells the story of a great mother, devoted to her husband and children. This one is about a lost girl who eventually reforms herself and becomes a Model Citizen.”
Lirui listened quietly, then said, “I have a similar film. I made it myself. Would you like to see it?”
Wenxu was intrigued. What sort of story would this arrogant girl want to tell? He immediately agreed.
The film began.
Bzzz—bzzz—
The tape rolled. Two minutes passed. The screen remained black.
“Is your tape broken?” Wenxu asked, pointing at the screen.
“Wait,” said Lirui.
After a while, a sound came on. The static of a radio being tuned.
Then a boy’s face appeared. He was wearing a mask and fiddling with the radio. Wenxu thought he looked familiar. He glanced at Lirui, who was focused on the screen, and said nothing.
The boy stuffed the radio into his bag. The zipper wasn’t fully closed, so part of the camera view showed him walking. Above him were airplanes, behind him giant billboards.
From the radio came a foreign song. Wenxu didn’t recognize it, but he knew foreign languages. He heard the lyrics:
Singing in the dead of night,
Take these broken wings and learn to fly, all your life…
You were only waiting for this moment to arise…
Strange lyrics, Wenxu thought.
The boy arrived at school. The camera pointed downward, capturing only the feet of students walking past him. But everyone greeted him:
“Good morning, Class President!”
“You look so refreshed today, President!”
Wenxu folded his arms with satisfaction. So this was a film about optimism and role models after all.
Then came a scene in class.
“President, where’s your homework?”
“I already handed it in,” the boy replied. “No need to worry.”
“Haha, of course the top student always submits early!”
But the boy was shown secretly pulling a notebook from his bag and slipping it into his desk.
Wenxu frowned. The class president in the film had just lied. He was setting a bad example.
Later, the boy stood up and walked out of the classroom.
“President, the morning exercises are about to start. Where are you going?”
“I’m just going to get something for the teacher.”
But his footsteps didn’t lead toward the office. He climbed the stairs.
Wenxu was furious. He turned to Lirui. “Your main character is completely unfit to be one. He behaves inappropriately!”
Lirui looked at him, calm and steady. “Sit down. Watch the rest.”
Wenxu didn’t want to admit he was afraid of her. He wasn’t. And yet… he sat back down.
The boy climbed all the way to the rooftop. He took out a key and unlocked the door.
He still had the radio. He had muted it in the classroom, but now he turned the volume back up. The same song played again.
Below, the school’s morning announcements were broadcasting. The boy placed the radio on the ledge and climbed up beside it. He stretched out his arms. The wind rushed through his sleeves, puffing out his white shirt with a rustling sound.
Suddenly, the camera cut to a full view of the boy’s face.
It was Wenxu.
Wenxu shot up from his seat.
Then, in the film, Wenxu jumped.
“What the hell is this?!” he shouted. “What kind of story is this? Suicide? And why does it have my face? I would never do something like that! I’m perfect!”
He was shaking, yelling in disbelief.
Lirui stood calmly. “Don’t you do the same thing every day?” she said quietly.
Wenxu remembered that moment of the fall. In the film, his body seemed to be lifted by the wind—like a bird.
He woke up.
His chest heaved. His clothes were soaked in sweat. He looked around, disoriented.
“It was just a dream…”
Such a strange, terrifying dream.
“Wenxu?” His mother entered the room smiling, holding a glass of water. “Are you alright? Your teacher called this afternoon and said you fainted. I was so worried.”
“I… fainted?”
“Yes, you don’t remember?” She placed her hand on his forehead. “You’re drenched. Drink some water, sweetheart.”
“Mom… what about Lirui?” he asked, grabbing her hand.
“Lirui who?”
“The new student. The teacher told me to show her around. I think I was talking to her before I fainted.”
“No idea. She probably went home. You’re such a responsible boy, still thinking about classmates while you’re sick.” She tapped his nose playfully and helped him sip the water.
“But Mom, she showed me this… strange film. After I watched it…”
Her face darkened. “What strange film? Not something indecent, I hope. What kind of disgusting student would do that? I’m calling your teacher right now to file a complaint.”
“No, she—”
“Don’t worry. I’ll talk to the school.” Her tone grew firm, shadowed by something darker. “I won’t let anyone ruin your chance of being selected as a Model Citizen this year.”
She stopped at the door and glanced at the bedside table. “Make sure you take your medicine. Then reset. Wipe away today’s mess, clean and neat, alright?”
“…Mom, I don’t feel well today. Can I skip it?”
She stopped in her tracks.
She turned her head slowly. Her eyes opened slightly wider, her expression terrifying in its severity.
“Are you saying you won’t listen to your mother? After everything I’ve done for you?”
“N-no, Mom.” Wenxu hurriedly grabbed the pills and swallowed them. Then, removing his shirt, he knelt down, opened the top drawer of his bedside table, and took out the knife.
“That’s my good boy.” His mother smiled again, lovingly. “I won’t watch this part. You handle it yourself.” She closed the door behind her.
Wenxu looked at the cold blade in his hand.
He tilted his head up. The image of himself jumping off the rooftop in Lirui’s film returned to his mind. He had looked like a white dove, lifted by the wind.
That kind of suicide, and this—what was the difference?
He raised his hand.
He couldn’t think anymore. He had to erase the dirty thoughts.
With a quiet thud, he drove the knife into his heart.
The next morning, Wenxu indeed felt refreshed and clean.
He moved about the room full of energy—his mother had already scrubbed the bloodstains from the floor until not a trace remained. Then he opened the window and inhaled the fresh morning air.
The curtains were white, fluttering lightly in the breeze.
A white dove.
The thought suddenly flashed through his mind. He remembered Lirui’s quiet eyes, the strange film, himself jumping from the rooftop. Most terrifying of all, he remembered every emotion he had felt in those moments.
Wenxu tore down the curtains, shouting at them to stop fluttering. He rushed into the bathroom, turned on the shower, and shoved his head under the icy water.
He couldn’t think about any of it. He mustn’t. If he did, he’d go mad. He wouldn’t be able to be the perfect child anymore, wouldn’t stand a chance of being chosen as a Model Citizen, wouldn’t be able to make his parents proud. He couldn’t become someone else. He had to be Wenxu. And Wenxu was his parents’ child.
On the way to school, he drifted in a daze. Electric scooters honked at him relentlessly.
What if Lirui really showed up in class later? Would he see her and suddenly recall all those strange feelings from yesterday? Even now, he wasn’t sure if everything had been a dream.
He stopped walking. He had passed a supermarket, and they were playing that English song again.
“Take these sunken eyes and learn to see, all your life…”
The male voice was lively and bright, like it was trying to persuade the listener of something good. Wenxu took out his phone and reported the store.
At school, Wenxu crouched by the classroom door and peeked inside carefully. It was quiet. Everyone was seated in silence. No Lirui.
He let out a sigh of relief.
Behind him came a voice: “President, are you feeling better?” It was the vice class president.
He turned around and said, “I’m fine now.”
She entered the classroom. Wenxu looked at her and thought of his mother. His mother was an ideal woman, just like the vice class president—smart, disciplined, proper. Everyone in Wenxu’s world was excellent. That was comforting.
Wenxu walked to the teacher’s office with brisk steps and a wide smile.
The teacher expressed concern for his health, and Wenxu responded graciously, assuring her he felt much better. The teacher nodded and handed him his duties for the day. He received the attendance sheet and scanned it—Lirui’s name was not there.
“Is someone missing?” the teacher asked.
Wenxu looked up and froze.
Lirui was sitting right in front of him, wearing the teacher’s clothes and holding a stack of papers. She adjusted her glasses, as if teasing him with her gaze.
Wenxu cried out and rubbed his eyes. When he looked again, the teacher was back in her seat, staring at him with a puzzled expression.
He stuttered, nearly biting his tongue. “T-t-teacher, where’s Lirui?”
The teacher frowned. “That new girl was reported by her mother. She’s been transferred to another class.”
“But, but—”
There were two gentle knocks on the door.
“Teacher, I want to stay in this class.”
They turned their heads. Lirui was standing at the door. Suddenly, the space around her began to shift—folding, twisting, as if trying to swallow her. Then the distortion vanished, as if nothing had happened.
Wenxu turned to the teacher, who blinked and said, “Oh, alright then.”
Wenxu stood in stunned silence.
In class, the teacher introduced Lirui. “She is an outstanding student, and she’s transferring to our class. Let’s give her a warm welcome.”
The class erupted in applause.
“Lirui, you can sit—”
“Teacher, may I sit behind Wenxu?” she asked, pointing at him.
What are you saying? Wenxu thought.
But the teacher said, “Of course.”
Wenxu turned around sharply. That was the vice class president’s seat. Now it was empty. The vice class president was sitting somewhere else, safe and sound.
The teacher smiled at Lirui. “Wenxu is an excellent student. Learn from him.”
“Yes, teacher,” Lirui replied with a smile.
Wenxu nearly wet himself.
At lunch break, Wenxu asked Lirui to meet him on the seventh floor. She followed behind him, unhurried. They stood in the stairwell, where the sunlight did not reach.
Wenxu clenched his fists. “What the hell is going on?” he shouted. “Who are you? What are you?”
“You can think of me as a bug in this world,” Lirui replied. “I’m not bound by your rules.”
“Then why are you here? What do you want?”
“Before your first death, you sent out a distress signal. I’m just here to answer it.”
“You mean… that film was my call for help?”
Lirui looked at his shirt pocket, right over his heart.
“Yesterday… you killed yourself again, didn’t you?”
“What?”
It felt like another blade had been driven into his chest. Lirui stared at it directly, as if she could see everything.
“I—I just reset. I didn’t want to cause trouble for my parents.”
Lirui chuckled softly and looked him in the eyes. “But it didn’t work this time, did it?”
Wenxu stumbled back, into the light spilling through the window.
“…How do you know?”
He clutched his chest.
Lirui raised her hand and pointed to the locked door.
Suddenly, they were standing on the rooftop. The wind swept through their hair.
“In the past,” she said, gesturing to the railing where the building met the sky, “you once jumped from there. Not to kill yourself, but because you could no longer endure the feeling of killing yourself a little more each day.”
A gust of wind rushed past Wenxu’s clothes. He could almost feel it again—the air’s resistance, the wind under his feet.
But he looked at her. How could this be?
“You’ve forgotten everything, haven’t you?” Lirui looked down at the schoolyard, her white shirt and black hair dancing in the wind. “You jumped, but you didn’t die. Your parents did everything they could to make you forget and reset you every day. And since you believed you were perfect, you never questioned the ugliest truth buried deep inside you.”
Wenxu didn’t believe her.
But his heart pounded wildly, as if trying to launch itself past the horizon.
“Then… how did I—”
“Who knows? Waking up should be the easiest thing in the world. But once a perfect dream goes on long enough, no one wants to wake up.”
“You’re just a bug, right? How do I know you’re not lying? Trying to trick me into doing something wrong and causing chaos?”
Lirui sat on the edge of the rooftop and burst into laughter.
“The serpent’s greatest sin was making humans imperfect. But it was only through imperfection that we became who we are today.”
Wenxu knew exactly who she meant. He now suspected that Lirui was a manifestation of Satan, come to tempt him with the forbidden apple.
“You go think about it on your own. I can bend the rules of this world, but whether you want to be a perfect, obedient child in Eden or a battered truth-seeker exiled to reality, that choice is yours.”
Her voice echoed in his ears.
“The only one who can save you—is you.”
He stared silently at his own shadow on the floor.
A while later, he looked up. He had heard the door close. Lirui was gone. Only a bird remained on the edge of the rooftop. When it saw that he had awakened, it flew off into the sky.
That night, his mother sat across from him and told him to kill himself—while she watched.
The teacher had called home, saying he had skipped class all afternoon. His mother was furious. She beat him twenty times with a ladle, then made him kneel and reset.
Wenxu told her he had heard a song. After hearing it, his mind became unsettled. “Mom, did something happen to me in the past? I vaguely remember having a radio. Where is it now?”
His mother sat in the dark, lights off. Her face was cold. “I don’t know. Stop thinking nonsense. You’re about to be nominated as a Model Citizen. If it ever existed, I threw it away long ago. If you want a new one, we can buy as many as you want.”
“Mom… do you think I’m a good child?”
His mother softened her voice. “You’ve always been a good child.”
He asked again, “Mom, do you love me?”
“What kind of question is that? Of course I love you. You’re my child.”
Wenxu lowered his head. “Mom… I want to be happy.”
His mother paused, then turned her face away. “You’ll be happy. As long as you follow the path your father and I laid out for you, you’ll be happy.”
“Thank you, Mom,” Wenxu said. “I know you’ve done your very best.”
Then he took the knife and drove it into his chest.
The next morning was calm and quiet.
Wenxu packed his schoolbag, kissed both his parents on the forehead, and headed out the door.
As he walked onto campus, classmates greeted him one after another.
He looked up at the sky.
It had never seemed this blue. It made his heart race.
He hadn’t seen Lirui again after returning to class yesterday. Her seat had gone back to being the vice class president’s. He had skipped five or six periods in a row and wandered back to the film room.
There, he rummaged through boxes. It was quiet. All the other students were still in class. He was alone, face to face with his own thoughts. He rewatched the award-winning films, but they no longer brought him any joy, any sense of positive energy. He was terrified.
In a corner storeroom, an old radio had fallen to the floor.
He crouched and picked it up. Faint music crackled through the static.
You were only waiting for this moment to be free...
You were only waiting for this moment to be free...
Again and again. It sounded like a spell. Or a warning.
What was “this moment”? What was “freedom”?
Wenxu stood up.
Then, the tape inside the radio clicked. A new voice came on—a male voice.
“Wenxu. Wenxu, if you're listening…”
The voice was familiar.
“Listen to me.”
He had heard this voice before.
“I am you. I’m the you that you’ve killed again and again.”
Right now, that very same radio was in his schoolbag.
Just then, the vice class president tapped him on the shoulder.
“President, have you finished your speech for today?”
Wenxu smiled. “No, but I know what I’m going to say.”
The vice president gave him a puzzled look.
Wenxu didn’t care. He grabbed the radio and walked off.
“President, we’re about to start morning reading. Where are you going?”
He turned around. “I promised to help the teacher with something. I’ll be right back.”
The vice president nodded.
Wenxu thought to himself— That film wasn’t a distress signal for Lirui. It was a message for me.
“Wenxu, you must fly. You cannot stay trapped here.”
Fly? Like a white dove?
He didn’t know where he wanted to go. But he knew he needed to get out.
“Wenxu, you have to be yourself. And the real you is not perfect.”
Each stair of the school building had ten steps. People walked up one step at a time, never skipping.
He had never noticed that before.
“Wenxu, I want to live.”
The truth was, last night, he hadn’t taken the painkillers.
“You want to live too, don’t you?”
Wenxu reached the seventh floor.
He patted his shirt pocket, over his heart. The key was still there.
He opened the rooftop door. The sky was vast and clear, as if it merged directly with the edge of the world. He stepped onto the ledge and looked out at the endless blue wind, the birds soaring freely.
Suddenly, the door burst open behind him. The school alarm blared.
“Attention, students! Our excellent Student Council President is attempting suicide! Please cooperate in stopping this potential Model Citizen from engaging in dangerous behavior!”
His parents, teachers, and classmates all charged out.
“Attention, students!”
A swarm of black dots flooded the previously empty playground—like a mass of ants, piling up like a mountain, a sea of human bodies.
“Wenxu!” shrieked voices like crows.
He stood at the edge of the rooftop. Everything was changing too quickly. He once thought the only strange thing was Lirui. Now, everything before him was equally monstrous.
His mother’s face was melting.
“Sweetheart! I knew something was wrong! Have you been dating someone? You know we’re doing this all for your own good!”
The vice class president bared her teeth.
“You’ve never said anything about not caring about school before!”
His homeroom teacher’s mouth stretched into a gaping maw.
“Wenxu, come back! You are our hope!”
His classmates surged forward. They climbed out of windows, poured from chimneys, piling up like dolls from a toy box. They formed a mountain of flesh that blocked out the sun. They cried and begged.
Wenxu never wanted to die.
But now he didn’t know where else to go.
Then, a flock of birds passed overhead. Their shadows scattered across the crowd, beautiful and fleeting. Even the monstrous cries quieted for a moment. Some people at the top of the pile tumbled down.
And Lirui swooped down.
She yelled:
“Fly!”
Wenxu didn’t look back. He spread his arms and jumped.
The wind roared past him, and he burst into laughter.
Lirui caught him.
She had turned into a white dove. Wings had sprouted from her back.
She smiled and said, “Let’s go!”
Wenxu held onto her tightly—and wings grew from him, too.
Tears poured from his eyes.
He said,
“Okay!”
The sky split open before them.
Beyond it were the universe, the truth, and everything Wenxu didn’t yet know.
But he held on to the bird.
He held on to himself.
