Doubt

“Bang!” The old door lock snapped crisply as the door was forcefully pushed open, releasing a wave of foul odor that hit the senses immediately.

Inside, the room was a chaotic mess—scattered debris and clothing littered the floor, tables and chairs were overturned, and a faint metallic scent of blood lingered in the air.

Yun Xian strode swiftly into the room, her eyes scanning the surroundings until she spotted a small, frail figure curled up in a corner.

It was a slender young man, huddled against the wall, his body covered in bruises and purple marks, blood seeping from the corner of his mouth—clear signs of a recent violent struggle. A loosely knotted rope lay discarded on the floor beside him.

Yun Xian crouched down for a closer look and froze—the man was unmistakably the strange boy who had delivered a message to Lin Wan’er earlier.

His chest rose and fell faintly; he was still breathing, though his consciousness was blurred.

Just then, Yun Xian’s phone vibrated. She pulled it out, and a new message from Lin Wan’er illuminated the screen.

She opened it to find a brief note: “Feeling unwell today, so I didn’t go to school. See you tomorrow.” Accompanying the text was a photo of an IV drip.

Clutching the phone tightly, the cold glow of the screen reflected in the slight furrow of her brow. Lin Wan’er’s message was straightforward and accompanied by what seemed like reasonable proof.

“Could I really have been mistaken?” she murmured, her gaze sweeping the room once more.

The scattered debris, the loose rope, and the unconscious young man—all bore silent testimony to some incident that had occurred here.

Exhaling deeply, she dialed emergency services, briefly relaying the situation.

Soon, the wailing ambulance arrived, and paramedics carried the young man onto a stretcher and into the vehicle. Yun Xian stood at the hallway entrance, watching the ambulance’s taillights vanish into the night before turning and mounting her bicycle to leave.

Back at her rented room, she tossed her phone onto the table and collapsed onto the bed, exhaustion weighing heavily on her as the scenes replayed relentlessly in her mind.

Unconsciously, her thoughts drifted away, and she slipped into a restless sleep.

At dawn, Yun Xian awoke promptly. She sat up, rubbed her drowsy eyes, quickly freshened up, changed clothes, and gathered the textbooks she would need for the day.

Opening the door, the morning breeze brought a cool freshness that brushed over her.

Descending the stairs, she prepared to mount the old bicycle, but the front tire was flat. Squatting to inspect, she found a small shard of glass embedded in the tire’s edge.

With a resigned sigh, she muttered softly, “Looks like I’ll have to rely on my own two feet today.”

Locking the bike back in place, she quickened her pace toward the school.

Upon reaching the classroom, Yun Xian settled by a window, casually arranging her books and notebooks. Glancing at her phone, she saw there were still ten minutes before class began.

The classroom was already more than half full, yet Lin Wan’er’s seat remained empty. Concern crept into Yun Xian’s eyes as they lingered on the vacant spot beside her.

She frowned, flipping through her textbook, but her mind refused to settle. Her gaze kept darting up, following the steady stream of students entering the room.

“Maybe I’m just overthinking,” she whispered, though the tension between her brows persisted.

At last, Lin Wan’er appeared at the classroom door, walking briskly with a faint smile, looking vibrant and entirely free of any signs of illness.

“Morning, Yun Xian,” she greeted cheerfully, raising a hand in a casual wave as she approached.

Taking the seat beside Yun Xian, she unpacked her books methodically. Yun Xian watched her for a moment before tentatively asking, “You really didn’t encounter any problems?”

Lin Wan’er paused briefly, then laughed and waved it off. “What could have happened? Don’t overthink it. I just felt a bit off yesterday, got an IV at the hospital, but I’m totally fine today.”

Her tone was light and carefree, betraying no hint of trouble. Yet Yun Xian couldn’t shake the uneasy feeling, though she couldn’t pinpoint why. She nodded slowly and returned to her textbook.

After class at noon, as Yun Xian was organizing her books, Lin Wan’er zipped up her bag and said, “Yun Xian, I won’t be able to go to the restaurant with you today.”

Yun Xian looked up at the apologetic smile on Lin Wan’er’s face.

“My family said they’re going to pick me up after school starting today. I have to go straight home,” she explained with a hint of helplessness and slight embarrassment.

Yun Xian nodded without pressing further, replying calmly, “It’s okay. You do what you need to.”

Lin Wan’er smiled again and added, “I’ll go with you another day.”

The two walked out of the teaching building in single file, following the tree-lined path toward the school gate. Sunlight filtered through the layers of leaves, casting dappled shadows. A gentle breeze, warm with the promise of early spring, rustled their hair and clothes, carrying the faint scent of fresh earth.

At the school gate, Yun Xian paused and waved goodbye. “Be careful on your way home.”

Lin Wan’er smiled and nodded. “Okay, see you tomorrow.”

Yun Xian watched her walk away until she reached a sleek black Bentley parked at the roadside.

Its smooth, elegant contours gleamed under the sun, the chrome emblem on the hood reflecting a subtle luxury.

The driver’s door opened, and a middle-aged man in a sharply tailored dark gray suit stepped out, his expression composed and movements efficient.

He circled to the rear door and courteously opened it for Lin Wan’er, who slid into the backseat with ease.

The man closed the door and returned to the driver’s seat.

With a low rumble from the engine, the Bentley glided away from the school gate, seamlessly merging into the gradually thickening traffic.

Yun Xian stood still, watching the car fade into the distance, a fleeting sense of disorientation stirring within her.

Lowering her gaze, she reflected on Lin Wan’er’s usual attire and spending habits, exhaling softly.

“I always knew her family was well off—her lifestyle is on a completely different level from mine—but I never imagined... this kind of wealth.”

She shook her head slightly, suppressing the complex emotions stirring in her heart, then turned and set off alone toward the restaurant.

Days passed in this manner. One morning, Yun Xian opened her eyes promptly at seven o’clock. Lying in bed, she stared blankly at the rust-streaked ceiling as the words of the old man in the elevator echoed in her mind: “In three months, you will return to the elevator to begin a new mission.”

She turned to look out the window; the sky was a heavy, somber gray, as if foretelling some ominous fate.

And today marked exactly three months since the day she was struck by the car.