After Being Watched by My Paranoid and Gloomy Deceased Wife - Chapter 13

I’m baffled. How much do I sleep in a day to have so many dreams?

These dreams are so real and frequent that I can barely distinguish between reality and the dream world.

When I climbed out of bed, I was still thinking about how well I slept today. The sky is so bright outside; did I get up early?

Why do I remember just finishing breakfast?

“Burp.” I let out a brown sugar mantou-flavored burp. Now I’m certain.

So I really did eat breakfast.

I vaguely remember Xi Rong telling me she went to work and wouldn’t waste time with a social non-worker like me.

She would order lunch for me on time and told me not to be decadent at her house. By evening, I absolutely must show up on time at the KTV room she reserved.

[Xi Rong: People who tell lies must swallow a thousand needles!]

Who is like her? I can’t even count the number of times she’s stood me up, and I’ve only failed to follow through on one, two, three, four, five, six times I agreed to her things.

Cough. It seems a bit much, but compared to her, it’s a drop in the bucket.

I walked toward the bathroom, preparing to take out the dried underwear to put on, but to my surprise, the laundry and drying machine for delicates was empty.

Wait, where are my underwear? How can I go out without underwear?

Wearing large shorts is not a reason or excuse for me to go commando underneath!

I opened the regular washing machine too. It was equally empty.

That’s strange. Where are my underwear?

Underwear, where are you?!

I flipped through the bed, still finding nothing. I sighed, ready to order a new pair, wash it, and wear it right away, when I suddenly felt something was wrong.

I pulled down my shorts to look, and the underwear was securely on me.

So, did I not wash them yet?

I don’t have that strange, sticky feeling I had before, though. I quietly observed carefully and confirmed the underwear was clean and free of suspicious secretions.

I think I washed them.

Wait, I remember.

I remember this pair of underwear was light blue. How did it turn pinkish-brown?

Taking a deep breath, I thought I might have been too busy lately and got mixed up.

Although I definitely don’t remember buying this color of underwear, who knows if my memory is accurate?

It’s normal for a person with mental issues to forget things. I can’t be too hard on myself.

I need to be more accepting of myself.

My mind wasn’t very clear just after waking up. Since I’m not working, I don’t even know what the date is today.

Speaking of which, did I quit my job?

I took out my phone to look. It wasn’t noon yet; I had slept for less than two hours.

What was I going to do just now?

Oh, right, check the work software.

I opened it and saw that “HR Huang has removed you from the group chat.”

I flipped through some more and saw a resignation letter in the records. I was momentarily confused, unable to recall when I submitted it.

Only after answering the delivery rider’s call and coming back with the takeout did I vaguely remember that I did indeed submit my resignation and even told Xi Rong about it.

People over thirty-five have poor memory. I sighed, slowly opening the takeout, feeling like I still forgot something.

Not having to work and staying at a friend’s house—this life is too comfortable, and my brain’s startup speed has slowed down accordingly.

It wasn’t until the corner of my eye caught my shadow that I remembered my recent troubles.

Sigh. Mental illness is truly a rich person’s disease. Is the money I have really enough?

As I worried about inflation and soaring prices, the shadow turned to look at me.

It reached out It’s hand to me.

My breath hitched. I forced myself to look away.

Avoidance is shameful, but it works.

Swallowing, I felt that the food, which smelled so good just a moment ago, suddenly wasn’t as delicious. The hand holding the chopsticks trembled slightly.

Heh, hallu… hallucination.

I pretended I couldn’t see anything and continued eating. Thus, I didn’t see the shadow’s outstretched hand pause, slowly withdraw, and quietly watch me.

The window in Xi Rong’s dining room was open, causing my back to feel cold. I originally wanted to get up and close it, but when I looked down and saw the shadow, I decided it was better to just eat slowly.

Maybe I won’t be so cold after I’m full. I’m probably just hungry right now.

As I ate, I did feel my body warming up and couldn’t help but feel relieved.

I knew it! I must have been cold because I was past the point of being hungry. What does it have to do with the window being open or closed?

There was no wind in the room. I subconsciously glanced at the window. Eh?

It was closed.

Goosebumps crept up my arms. I secretly swallowed the last mouthful of food, remaining completely still, only my eyes darting toward the dining room door.

Unlike my semi-open concept dining area, Xi Rong’s dining room is a separate room with a white, overly ornate European-style door that clashes with the overall decor.

I heard Xi Rong’s mother chose it. All I can say is that Aunty and Xi Rong have similar artistic tastes but different styles.

I was too nervous. Thinking about these things couldn’t distract me.

I felt sweat break out on my back, sticking to me with a chill. I desperately needed a warm oil-filled radiator to dry me off.

Otherwise, the damp clothes against my back feel like something is perched on my shoulder and pressed against my body.

Don’t think about it, don’t think about it. I controlled my racing thoughts. My breathing seemed infinitely amplified. Time felt like a slow-motion video, choppy and halting.

I ate the takeout very cleanly. I even ate the ginger because I didn’t know where Xi Rong’s special trash can for food scraps was. Rather than asking her, the busy person who even has to socialize during meals, I might as well just eat it and save her the trouble.

To be fair, that piece of ginger was really spicy. One bite and you knew it wasn’t pre-cooked food.

The ginger in pre-cooked meals is tasteless, often disguising itself as various foods. Whether it’s meat or potato, it perfectly blends in, only to be discovered by its dry, woody texture.

I couldn’t help it when I was working. Besides the times when Guan Lan was around to make me lunch, I relied entirely on takeout near the office to survive. But no matter if I ordered cheap lunchboxes or expensive restaurant delivery.

The only difference was between pre-cooked food that was freshly dated, had a higher purchase price, and tasted decent, versus pre-cooked food that was stale, cheaply wholesale, and only fit for cattle and horses.

It won’t kill you, it won’t be good, but it will fill you up.

In my peripheral vision, I saw the shadow approaching me bit by bit, its color gradually changing from a pale grey to a thick black ink.

“I’m full. Shall I go out for a walk later? I feel like the changes around here are quite significant.”

I said this to myself, and the shadow nodded in agreement, no longer approaching.

I secretly sighed in relief, mentally cursing myself.

I’m going mad. I can actually perceive a sense of agreement from a mass of pitch-black shadow. If this illness can be treated, it must be treated.

I packed up the trash. I wanted to wash my hands but hesitated, finally opting to pull out a wet wipe to clean them. I thanked Xi Rong, the lazy person, for having pull-out wet wipes everywhere in her house.

The shadow followed me, leisurely and content, occasionally tossing its hair back, as if It’s hair would be messed up by the wind while walking.

I kept my attention on the trash in my hand and what songs to request tonight, not daring to look at the shadow that should belong to me.

Why is mental illness so hard to treat? Even now, I can’t figure out why a person’s hallucination would be this way.

I’ve searched the entire internet and found no similar cases.

Maybe I was too focused on my thoughts and zoned out. My wrist suddenly hurt. I realized I had nearly run head-on into someone.

The pain made me look at my wrist. The ink-like shadow flowed over my wrist, leaving a distinct red mark shaped like fingerprints.

“Hey, Miss, are you here too?” A somewhat familiar young female voice spoke.

I was still tense, nearly greeting her with the hand holding the trash bag. I lifted it a bit, then quickly used the other hand to greet her.

“Ah… mmm, I came to visit a friend.” I was a bit unaccustomed to her familiarity and proactiveness.

“Miss, are you going to throw out the trash now?” the young girl asked with a smile.

I nodded, “Mmm.”

My response might seem a bit cold, but I truly didn’t know what to talk about with a passing acquaintance.

The girl didn’t mind my attitude at all; she was very enthusiastic.

Her irises were quite dark, giving her a cold look when she stared, which didn’t quite match her round, cute face. Her smile had a slight sense of discord.

This discord made my scalp prickle, but I couldn’t say anything. A person can’t control how they look.

Last time at the night market, maybe because the lighting was dim and it was night, I didn’t notice this much.

“Miss, don’t go to the one up ahead. I’m telling you, turn right and walk about a hundred meters. There’s another trash collection point there. The attendants there don’t make as much trouble. The old lady closest to here will deliberately fine you randomly.”

“Oh, okay, thank you!” I actually didn’t understand at all, but I smiled politely. She was unusually enthusiastic.

“Aiya, that corner isn’t very obvious. I happen to have time. Miss, give me your trash. I’ll take it to throw away for you.”

The young girl reached out to take the bag from my hand, which startled me.

“Hey, no need, no need. I can go myself.”

She didn’t seem disappointed by the rejection, still looking cheerful and lively. That sentence seemed to be just an excuse to start a conversation.

“Then I’ll walk with you. I’ll show you the way.” Her voice was cheerful and vibrant, with a unique youthful energy.

I sighed, not refusing her kindness. I suddenly felt a little nostalgic for my incomplete university memories.

Even from those fragmented memory segments, I could feel the warmth and freshness that the passage of more than ten years of memory brought me.

It’s just that whenever I think about these things, I feel a little dizzy and stuffy in my chest. I usually don’t challenge my physical condition unless necessary.

The young girl walked beside me, a little shorter than me. Her mouth didn’t stop moving; she chirped like a little bird, a bit too lively.

I, who have always lived a quiet life, was a little unaccustomed to it, but having someone so lively around was quite nice.

Because of the hallucination, I subconsciously pay attention to shadows. Her shadow was clearly normal, while my shadow still had flying long hair and a flowing long skirt.

It seems the wind is quite strong in the shadow’s world.

A gust of wind happened to blow by. I saw the shadow following me with Its arms crossed, deliberately lagging a step behind, acting exactly like It was sulking.

Nothing happened along the way. The shadow didn’t do anything other than follow, which made me feel relieved.

At least when others are present, my hallucination won’t progress to an uncontrollable stage.

After I threw away the trash, the young girl pulled out a wet wipe from her pocket and offered it to me.

Just as I was about to take it, my ankle stung, as if someone had lightly kicked it. I looked down and saw the shadow nonchalantly withdrawing It’s foot.

You’re quite meddlesome.