Little Duckling - Chapter 13

“From as far back as I can remember, people have always been around me, telling me what to do and how to act.”

“I knew, I always knew, they meant well, so I obediently followed their advice. But no one ever told me that the more obedient a person is, the less anyone cares about what they truly want.”

“Look at this time. All I wanted was to make my own choice, and everyone thinks I’ve gone mad…”

The moment Yan Lu pushed open the door, she saw Jian Xin on the hospital bed, watching a drama while munching on a corn on the cob. She looked relaxed, but there was a glint of tears in her eyes.

Jian Xin’s left hand had regained some mobility, and she had been trying to feed herself and use her phone these past few days.

“Cousin Yan Lu’s here,” Yao Wenqian said, wiping away tears and waving toward the doorway.

Jian Xin paused the video on her phone with her pinky finger and glanced up, giving Yan Lu a small wave with the half-eaten corn on the cob.

“Your injury hasn’t healed yet. Don’t move around so much,” Yan Lu warned, walking to the bedside and casually glancing at the phone screen propped up on the bedside table.

Yao Wenqian: “Sister Xin has seen the latest episode. After she finishes, she’ll be lonely with me.”

Yan Lu glanced at Jian Xin and asked casually, “Can you even be lonely watching this?”

Jian Xin nearly choked on her corn.

She had every right to suspect Yan Lu was being sarcastic again!

And she was such a disappointment, actually enjoying the drama adapted from her ex’s novel!

She didn’t want to admit it—she really, really didn’t want to admit it!

Yao Wenqian, oblivious to Jian Xin’s embarrassment, chimed in, “Of course! Sister Xin was even more excited than me!”

Jian Xin: “Hmm… Lin Xiyu’s acting is good.”

Yan Lu: “Oh.”

Jian Xin: “……”

Yao Wenqian: “My cousin’s original story was excellent too!”

“Mm-hmm, mm-hmm…” Jian Xin mumbled in agreement, clearing her throat twice to change the subject. “What time does the show update daily?”

Yao Wenqian: “Seven PM, but there’s only one episode today.”

Jian Xin: “Oh, just one episode…”

Yao Wenqian grinned. “But there’s good news! Tomorrow at noon, they’re releasing the final episodes early. Let’s binge-watch the ending together—my treat!”

“Great!” Jian Xin replied.

Yan Lu sat down beside them and waited until they had finished the final episode of the drama before asking, “How’s your recovery going?”

“Not bad,” Jian Xin said. “At least I can wake up in the morning now.”

“True,” Yao Wenqian nodded. “You were sleeping for ages the past few days. We couldn’t wake you up even after mealtimes, and when you did wake up, you were so listless. But you’ve been much more energetic these past two days!”

Jian Xin smiled awkwardly.

It wasn’t like she wanted to sleep so long. Who could understand what it felt like to seemingly sleep for over ten hours every day, when in reality, most of that time was spent in another body, locked in a battle of wits with a dog?

In the days immediately after the car accident, she could transform into a duck the moment she closed her eyes.

The worst part was that while she used to simply close her eyes and fall asleep, the method of returning to her own body remained utterly unpredictable, bordering on mystical!

On lucky days, she would return after just one sleep.

But most of the time, her luck failed her. No matter how much she slept, she remained a duck, forced to patiently await some unknown trigger that might arrive at any moment.

In just a few short days, Jian Xin had experienced being licked back by Xin Xin, chilled back by the air conditioner, baked back by the sun, and even listening to music while huddled on the floor had brought her back once!

When she was alone, Jian Xin had engaged in countless deep thinking sessions.

After much deliberation, she tentatively summarized her method of transmigration into four words: Synesthesia Transmigration.

Synesthesia Transmigration, as she understood it, occurred when she and Cauliflower experienced the same sensation at the same time—whether identical or similar across the five senses—allowing her to return from Cauliflower’s body.

Humans and ducks can use synesthesia for soul transmigration? she marveled. This is such a cool and groundbreaking discovery! If I ever told anyone, they’d think I’m crazy!

Jian Xin had considered seeking psychiatric help more than once, but she always quickly calmed herself down.

She was certain she wasn’t delusional.

The duck was real, Gouzi was real, and Yan Lu was undeniably real.

This was a supernatural phenomenon beyond scientific explanation. She couldn’t prove her experiences to anyone, let alone gain their trust.

Fortunately, Yan Lu had changed Cauliflower’s diet, and Jian Xin had gradually learned how to handle the Corgi. She hadn’t been back there for the past two days.

Jian Xin’s mind raced with chaotic thoughts. Finally, she shook her head and deliberately steered the conversation elsewhere.

“This morning, my boss and colleagues came to check on me,” she said with a sigh. “They told me to rest well, but also asked me to finish the proposal I’m working on and hand over any pending tasks.” She paused. “My work laptop will be delivered to the hospital by tomorrow afternoon at the latest.”

“You’ve only been resting for a few days! Your hand can barely move!” Yao Wenqian exclaimed in shock. “Can’t they wait? Can’t they assign it to someone else?”

“If they bring in someone new who doesn’t understand the previous work, they might have to start all over again,” Jian Xin shrugged helplessly. “That would mean extra work for no extra pay. It’s fine. Everyone’s struggling. I’m already in the final stages anyway. The sooner I finish and hand it over, the sooner I can stop worrying about it.”

Yan Lu: “You resigned?”

Jian Xin: “Yeah.”

Yan Lu frowned. “Is it because of what happened?”

Yao Wenqian’s eyes widened, her lips parting slightly, and guilt already began to surface in her gaze.

“Hey, don’t rush to blame yourself. It has nothing to do with you, Wenqian,” Jian Xin said with a smile, shaking her head. “I just didn’t want to do it anymore. I submitted my resignation letter before the accident. I just didn’t get a chance to leave before I ended up here.”

Yao Wenqian instantly breathed a sigh of relief.

Yan Lu paused for a moment before asking, “So, what are your plans for the future?”

Jian Xin thought for a moment, then a slightly uncertain smile spread across her face. “Music, of course! Becoming a pop star has been my dream since I was a kid!”

“I know, dreams are just dreams, but my friend’s studio has been doing pretty well these past few years. If I go latch onto their coattails, I’m sure I can at least make a living.” She tilted her head nonchalantly. “Twenty-eight years old, throwing away a monotonous but stable life, and boldly stepping onto an uncharted path full of unknowns—doesn’t that sound incredibly cool?!”

Yan Lu didn’t say anything more.

Yao Wenqian, however, was much more enthusiastic. She first exclaimed in surprise that Jian Xin was involved in music, then eagerly asked if she could listen to her work. After hearing a few tracks, Yao Wenqian’s compliments never stopped.

Jian Xin had forgotten how long it had been since she’d received such praise.

Yao Wenqian’s non-stop chatter left her completely dazed—her body confined to the hospital bed, but her heart soaring, nearly floating out the window.

Yan Lu sat quietly beside them, watching her cousin and Jian Xin laugh and chat, her thoughts drifting elsewhere.

That evening, Yan Lu returned home earlier than usual.

As soon as she stepped inside, Xin Xin, her dog, bounded over, wagging its tail excitedly.

Yan Lu knelt down, wrapped her arms around Xin Xin’s neck, and nuzzled its furry head with a smile.

Cauliflower, the parrot, strutted out of the study like a little professor, its wings folded behind its back. It tilted its head and squawked a few times at her.

Yan Lu ruffled Xin Xin’s neck fur, changed into her slippers, and crouched down beside Cauliflower, gently stroking its head with a smile.

“Cauliflower seems to be in a good mood today!”

“Quack!”

“Mom’s been out in the afternoons lately. Do you miss her?”

“Quack!”

“In a few days, that guy will be discharged from the hospital, and I won’t have to go take care of him every day anymore,” Yan Lu said, poking Cauliflower’s flat, yellow beak.

Her tone was casual, but beneath the seemingly cheerful words, a hint of disappointment lingered.

“It’s almost seven,” Yan Lu murmured, glancing at the wall clock.

Is someone waiting for the drama update today?

Yan Lu didn’t know why she was thinking about this. What did it matter to her whether that guy was waiting for the update or not?

He was only interested in Lin Xiyu anyway. Even the person watching the drama with him was just her cousin.

Yan Lu ruffled the duck’s head, stood up, and, with Xin Xin trailing at her heels and constantly getting in the way, surveyed the duck’s favorite spots, cleaned up the day’s duck droppings, and prepared a fresh bowl of dog food for Xin Xin. Only then did she return to her computer, staring blankly at the half-written update.

The seven o’clock chime echoed from the living room.

Yan Lu snapped out of her daze, staring at the unfinished update. She couldn’t muster the motivation to continue writing, so she simply closed the word processing software and clicked on the latest episode of Fallen Jade Branch on the video platform.

Moments later, Cauliflower heard the sound and waddled slowly into the room, his little body swaying from side to side.

The tiny duck stretched his neck, tilted his head to the left, and gazed at his owner with wide-eyed curiosity—as if he wanted to watch too.

Seeing his adorable posture, Yan Lu chuckled and scooped him up. “Does Cauliflower want to watch too?”

“Perfect! Mommy’s all alone anyway,” she said, pushing the keyboard aside and gently placing Cauliflower on the desk like a plush toy. “If you want to watch, let’s watch together! This is based on Mommy’s novel, you know!”

Yan Lu wrapped her hands lightly around his small body, her thumbs occasionally stroking the smooth, soft down on his chest.

Cauliflower let out a soft “quack” and settled down, tilting his head to the side as he stared blankly at the two figures embracing under the moonlight on the screen.

“Hey, have you ever seen a fish that didn’t die after being out of the water? Instead, it grew wings, carried by moonlight, and soared into the sky?”

“A flying fish? How is that even possible?”

“Why not? I’ve seen it myself!”

“…You’ve seen it?”

“Of course! That night, battered and bruised, it was washed ashore by the waves. The suffocating feeling almost drove it back to the sea, but when it remembered that the ocean no longer welcomed it, it endured the pain, transformed its fins into wings, and flew away without looking back.”

“What happened next?”

“Later, it lived a good life…”

As the little duckling listened to the voice coming from the computer, a trace of confusion gradually appeared in its beady black eyes.

Before long, that confusion morphed into a faint sense of despair.

Jian Xin: “……”

I’m completely done with this duck!

Transmigrating in my sleep was one thing, but now I’m transmigrating while watching a drama?!

Is this life even worth living anymore, Duck?!