Accompanied by a violent bout of coughing, I woke up. It was already morning, but my throat felt as if someone were scratching at it, making me cough again and again.
With a sudden 'pfft,' I felt something foreign in my throat and coughed it out. For a moment, I was stunned, staring blankly at the blood staining my blanket—the bright red blood. I wiped my lips. It was blood. I was coughing up blood.
What happened last night? All I remember is Lily Wu pulling out my soul. I hurriedly touched my body—there was warmth, there was sensation.
But another violent cough wracked me, and I coughed up mouthfuls of fresh blood. Instantly, my head spun and my vision blurred.
My whole body felt weak, like I had a fever. My forehead was burning hot. When I tried to get up, I stumbled and fell to the floor.
There was something on the table. I grabbed the edge and pulled myself up. It was a note, and on it were a few elegant words, written with a sense of authority.
"Go find that old couple, or you'll be dead."
Shivering all over, I put on a coat and hailed a cab, heading straight to Fortune Teller's Row.
When I arrived at the old couple’s shop, I froze. The original store was gone. A new shop had opened, and a renovation worker was busy inside.
"Sir, where are the old couple who used to run this place?"
"Huh? What old couple? This storefront has been closed for years."
I widened my eyes and took a few steps back. The street was bustling with people. I looked around carefully again—this was definitely where the old couple’s shop used to be.
I kept asking as I walked along, but after going up and down Fortune Teller's Row several times, I still couldn't find any trace of the old couple.
I remembered that day at the crematorium, the disappointed and helpless expressions on their faces. Mrs. Blake had said I should never seek them out again for the rest of my life.
I started coughing up blood again. When I wiped it with a tissue, it was a large patch of deep red. My mood sank, and I wandered the streets aimlessly.
Passing by a hospital, I laughed at myself. I knew it was pointless, but I still went in. After a full check-up, there was nothing abnormal. The doctor said I was just weak and prescribed some Chinese medicine, telling me to rest for a few days.
I carried a big bag of Chinese medicine, stumbling home, and started to boil it.
I felt weak all over and cold, with cold sweat breaking out on my forehead in waves. Powerless, I lay down on the bed. My lungs felt like they were on fire—painful and burning.
I desperately wanted to call my parents, but I didn’t dare. I was afraid they’d see me come back from the dead, only to be dying again.
In a haze, I closed my eyes.