Chapter 5: The Mystery of Suicide

Chen Dongyang’s head throbbed as he trudged home, the weight of the day pressing down on him.

The streets of South River City buzzed with evening life—vendors shouting, cars honking, and the chatter of passersby blending into a dull roar.

But his mind was elsewhere, trapped in the enigma of Jiang Yuxin.

Her power. Her piercing gaze. Her demand for lunch deliveries.

And the loops—those endless, maddening loops that had vanished but left more questions than answers.

He unlocked the door to his small apartment, the familiar scent of instant noodles and laundry detergent grounding him slightly.

His parents were still at work, as usual, leaving the place quiet.

He dropped his bag and collapsed onto the couch, staring at the ceiling.

‘What the hll is going on?’ he thought, his fingers rubbing his aching shoulder.

Jiang Yuxin wasn’t just a girl with a strange ability.

She was a force, a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

And now, he was tied to her for a month.

The next morning, Chen Dongyang dragged himself to school, his 3,000-word self-criticism crumpled in his bag.

He’d stayed up late writing it, his handwriting sloppy from exhaustion.

The math teacher’s scolding still rang in his ears, but it was nothing compared to the dread of facing Jiang Yuxin.

Class 204 was already half-full when he arrived, students whispering and glancing at him.

[He’s the one who tackled her, right?]

[Wonder what she’ll do to him.]

He ignored them, slinking to his seat in the back.

Jiang Yuxin was by the window, as always, her posture perfect, her expression unreadable.

She didn’t look at him, but he felt her presence like a weight on his chest.

The bell rang, and the teacher began droning about history.

Chen Dongyang barely listened, his pen doodling aimlessly in his notebook.

He sketched a rooftop, a figure standing at the edge.

Her figure.

He scratched it out, his heart racing.

‘Get it together,’ he told himself. ‘She’s not your enemy. She’s just… complicated.’

At lunch, Chen Dongyang stood outside the classroom, clutching a paper with Jiang Yuxin’s handwritten menu.

[Sushi from Hana’s, two blocks from school. No wasabi. Green tea, iced.]

He stared at the note, her neat handwriting almost mocking in its precision.

‘She’s serious about this,’ he thought, half-annoyed, half-intrigued.

He headed to Hana’s, the lunch rush making the small shop chaotic.

The cashier, a tired-looking woman, handed him the order with a grunt.

“Twenty bucks,” she said.

Chen Dongyang winced, handing over his cash.

This was going to drain his allowance fast.

Back at school, he found Jiang Yuxin in the courtyard, sitting alone under a tree.

She looked up as he approached, her eyes scanning him like a predator sizing up prey.

“You’re late,” she said, her voice cool but not harsh.

“It’s a ten-minute walk,” he muttered, setting the sushi and tea in front of her.

She opened the box, inspecting it with the precision of a surgeon.

“No wasabi?” she asked, raising an eyebrow.

“None,” he confirmed, his tone flat.

She nodded, satisfied, and took a bite, her movements graceful even in something as mundane as eating.

Chen Dongyang stood awkwardly, unsure if he was dismissed.

“Sit,” she said suddenly, gesturing to the spot beside her.

He hesitated, then sat, keeping a careful distance.

They ate in silence, the courtyard’s chatter filling the space.

Finally, she spoke.

“Your ‘premonition,’” she said, not looking at him. “Tell me more.”

His stomach twisted.

He’d hoped she’d drop it, but of course, she wouldn’t.

“It’s… hard to explain,” he said, choosing his words carefully. “It was like a flash. I saw you… falling.”

Her chopsticks paused, her eyes flicking to his.

“Falling,” she repeated, her voice soft but sharp. “From the rooftop?”

He nodded, his throat dry.

Her gaze lingered, searching his face for cracks.

“You expect me to believe that?” she asked, her tone laced with skepticism.

“I don’t expect anything,” he said, meeting her eyes. “It’s just what happened.”

She leaned back, sipping her tea, her expression unreadable.

“You’re either a terrible liar or a very strange person, Chen Dongyang,” she said finally.

He shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips.

“Maybe both.”

After school, Chen Dongyang headed to the park by the river, his heart pounding.

This was it—the meeting she’d demanded.

The park was quiet, the late afternoon sun casting long shadows across the grass.

Jiang Yuxin was already there, sitting on a bench by the water, her schoolbag beside her.

She looked up as he approached, her face calm but expectant.

“You’re on time,” she said, standing. “Good.”

He stopped a few feet away, his hands in his pockets.

“So, what do you want?” he asked, his voice steady despite his nerves.

She stepped closer, her eyes locking onto his.

“I want the truth,” she said simply. “No more ‘premonitions.’ No more excuses. Why did you really tackle me?”

Chen Dongyang’s heart raced.

He couldn’t tell her about the loops—not yet.

She’d think he was crazy, or worse, she’d dig deeper, and he wasn’t sure he could handle her knowing everything.

“I told you,” he said, his voice firm. “I thought you were in danger. That’s it.”

Her eyes narrowed, and he felt that invisible pressure again, like cold water seeping into his mind.

But it didn’t take hold.

She stepped back, frustration flickering across her face.

“You’re impossible,” she said, her voice low. “But I’ll figure you out.”

He exhaled, realizing he’d been holding his breath.

“Maybe there’s nothing to figure out,” he said, forcing a grin. “Maybe I’m just a guy with bad instincts.”

She didn’t smile, but her gaze softened, just a fraction.

“We’ll see,” she said, turning toward the river. “Tomorrow. Lunch. Don’t forget.”

She walked away, leaving him standing there, his mind a storm of relief and dread.

*

That night, Chen Dongyang lay awake, the events of the day replaying in his mind.

Jiang Yuxin was a mystery, a force he couldn’t predict or control.

But he was starting to realize something.

The loops might be over, but the game wasn’t.

And Jiang Yuxin wasn’t just a player—she was the board itself.

He closed his eyes, her face flashing in his mind.

Not falling, not dying.

Just watching him, waiting for his next move.

“Bring it on,” he muttered, a spark of defiance igniting in his chest.