Ein wandernder Jugendlicher

Kapitel 2

I can't tell if my eyes are open or closed. I feel like a blind person, unable to see anything. The world doesn't exist for me; only that one eye appears as a beam of light. Whose eye is that? A man's or a woman's? Have I ever seen that eye before? That eye is firmly imprinted in my heart.

I also saw the eye changing, filled with a sorrowful gaze, as it stared at me. I could imagine it as an independent person, speaking to me with its eyes. I felt that we could communicate in some way. In this sense, the eye is equivalent to the mouth, or even that the eye is the entirety of a person.

I'm almost completely captivated by this eye. I'm starting to lose my sense of self; I no longer have a self. I will become one with this eye. I am it (him/her), and it (him/her) is me.

No. I don't want to.

I suddenly opened my eyes wide and shouted, "Let me go!"

Suddenly, the eye disappeared, leaving only a lit candle and a figure holding it. I shook my head to get my bearings, rushed to the window, and pulled back the heavy curtains. Sunlight flooded the room like a burst dam, and I panted in it like a wild beast, only then realizing I was drenched in sweat.

“You shouldn’t have interrupted my treatment of you,” Dr. Mo said calmly, but his tone didn’t seem to blame me.

"I'm sorry, I can't handle this kind of treatment. I'm too fragile."

"No, you are too strong."

"Can I leave now? How much do I have to pay?" I was eager to get rid of this guy.

"Of course you can leave. Everything here is voluntary. As for money, I won't charge you until the treatment is finished."

I rushed down the stairs. The girl who had been greeting people downstairs was gone, and her familiar face reappeared in my mind. Where had she gone? I went back upstairs, opened the door, and saw the girl talking to Dr. Mo.

"Is there anything else?" the doctor asked me with a smile.

"No, it's nothing," I replied blankly.

"You're looking for her, aren't you?"

I gave an awkward laugh.

"ROSE, you should see this gentleman off."

So her name was Rose. She didn't say a word, but smiled and saw me downstairs. When we reached the alley outside the door, she said softly, "You're really something."

Why?

"Why not?" she said mysteriously.

"Were you in the room when he was treating me?"

She pursed her lips and didn't answer, giving me a strange look that instantly reminded me of the magical eye I'd seen during the "treatment." Could it not have been candlelight, but truly her eye?

"Don't overthink it. Come again next time. I'll be waiting for you."

I said goodbye to her, and after taking a few steps, I looked back, but she was already gone.

That eye—was it her left eye or her right eye? Or neither?

Suddenly, I felt as if I could see my own eyes.

New Year

Today is the first day of the 21st century. While many people are welcoming the first rays of dawn of the new century from the top of skyscrapers or on the beach in the suburbs, I am dreaming in bed.

I dream a lot, especially in the early morning before I wake up. Incredibly, sometimes I'm aware that I'm dreaming, and I even direct my own dreams, like directing a movie, steering them in the direction I imagine. But dreams themselves resist, a resistance from outside my consciousness, often causing unexpected things to happen in my dreams, thus disrupting my planned pleasant dream.

I dreamt of that candlelight, which transformed into an eye, flickering and uncertain, and it suddenly made me realize something. This time, I finally overcame my unconscious self, pulling me out of the dream and waking myself up. I carefully recalled the eye in the dream. On Christmas Eve, after Lu Bai's suicide, when the police were questioning Huang Yun, I heard clearly that she said Lu Bai seemed to see something before jumping into the river, but there was nothing there. However, Lu Bai's gaze drifted left and right. So, the thing he saw (assuming he did see something) was also flickering and uncertain, just like the candlelight (eye) I saw in the psychological clinic yesterday. Like the wind, although we cannot see the wind, we can see the path of the wind through the things it stirs. Perhaps this is the principle; what Lu Bai saw may really exist, but we just cannot see it.

After finishing breakfast, I rushed out the door. It was only a little past seven in the morning, and the streets were very quiet on New Year's Day. There weren't many people around. I got off at the subway station. When I arrived at the platform, a subway train had just left. There were only five or six people around. I sat down on a chair and looked at the advertisements across the street.

A man walked over and sat down next to me. He was probably in his early forties, very tall and well-dressed, wearing a trench coat over a black suit, and carrying a black briefcase. He was impeccably groomed; perhaps a high-level white-collar worker. Was he still at work today? He sat there expressionless, staring straight ahead.

The sound of the subway approaching rang in my ears.

The man suddenly looked up at the ceiling, then turned his face downwards, and then turned towards me, almost face to face. I could see his eyes clearly; his gaze seemed blurry. What was he looking at? I looked around, but there was nothing there, just the escalator behind me. I turned back again, only to see him stand up and stride forward.

The subway is about to arrive at the station.

"Danger!" I stood up.

He remained unmoved and actually jumped off the platform.

The train has arrived at the station.

Emergency braking was too late. A deafening crash rang out; I could almost hear bones being crushed. The subway, with its immense momentum, rolled over the track and finally came to a stop almost as usual.

In that instant, my expression was extremely grim, as if I were the one who had been run over by the train. I looked up, but I couldn't see anything. I rubbed my eyes hard; my eyes were fine.

What did he see?

January 5th

I'm going to find Ye Xiao.

I haven't seen Ye Xiao for several years. He's a distant relative of mine, and I'm still not quite sure how many different kinship terms we have in our large family, so I still call him by his first name. He's the child of a sent-down youth; he lived with us as a child, and we grew up together. Later, he went to the Beijing Police University, and I haven't seen him since, only occasionally exchanging phone calls. I heard it's because he received some special technical training, which kept him isolated from the outside world during his studies. Yesterday I saw my mother, and she told me that Ye Xiao returned to Shanghai a few months ago and is working at the Municipal Public Security Bureau's Information Center.

He lives alone now, just like me. His rented apartment isn't big, but it's comfortable, and the most prominent thing in the room is a computer. He's tall and thin, with thick eyebrows and a piercing gaze. But now he seemed a little uneasy, and poured me some tea leaves, which surprised me, since he knows I never drink tea.

Yes, Ye Xiao has indeed changed a lot. He has become taciturn and is not like the child he used to be at all. Back then, he was very active and always did unexpected things, often pretending to be a ghost in the middle of the night to scare others.

"What's wrong?" I asked him gently.

"Nothing much, I know why you came to see me."

So I told him all the strange things that had happened to me recently. He frowned, then said casually, "It's nothing, don't worry about it, just forget about it."

"No, I can't forget it, my mind can't take it anymore."

"Do you really want to know more?" Ye Xiao asked me.

"Please. We've been playing together since we were little, I've never asked you for anything before."

He hesitated for a moment, then sighed softly, took a floppy disk from the drawer, and inserted it into his computer: "Consider it a violation of the rules." He opened the files on drive A, and a row of text and images appeared—

Zhou Ziwen, male, 20 years old, a college student, committed suicide by cutting his throat with broken glass in his dormitory on December 5.

Yang Hao, male, 28 years old, freelance writer, committed suicide by jumping off a building at home on December 9.

You Xinxin, female, 24 years old, website editor, committed suicide by poisoning herself in the company toilet on December 13.

Zhang Keran, male, 17 years old, high school student, committed suicide by cutting his wrists at home on December 17.

Lin Shu, male, 22 years old, unemployed, committed suicide by jumping off a building at home on December 20.

Lu Bai, male, 28 years old, a company employee, committed suicide by jumping into the Huangpu River on the Pudong Riverside Avenue on December 24.

Qian Xiaoqing, female, 21 years old, a college student, attempted suicide by hanging herself in a classroom at school on December 28. She was discovered in time and rescued, but she has become mentally confused and is currently being treated in a mental hospital.

Ding Hu, male, 40 years old, a manager of a foreign company, jumped off the subway platform on January 1 and was run over and killed by an incoming subway train.

Wang Yanghai, male, 30 years old, a state-owned enterprise employee, deliberately turned on the gas switch while alone at home on January 3, and died of carbon monoxide poisoning.

Next to each person was a photograph of their deceased state; some were gruesome, while others appeared peaceful. When I saw the photos of Lin Shu and Lu Bai, an indescribable feeling welled up inside me.

"I just finished editing these documents this afternoon and have already uploaded them to the Ministry of Public Security. These are all the unexplained suicides in the city over the past quarter," Ye Xiao said calmly.

"Suicides with unclear motives?"

"Yes, all of these people had absolutely no reason to commit suicide. Suicides usually result from heartbreak, unemployment, family conflicts, academic or work pressure, or significant financial losses, such as losing everything in the stock market. Another extreme is suicide out of guilt; in short, they believe they can't go on living, and death is the best relief. However, the recent series of strange suicides is the exact opposite. Their lives were all normal; some were even living fulfilling lives. The relatives and friends of the deceased couldn't explain why they committed suicide. Moreover, the timing was very concentrated; in just one month, nine people committed suicide. This doesn't include those who genuinely had reasons for their suicides, or those so-called 'reasons' that were merely speculation. A year ago, this kind of thing almost never happened in this city. If this trend continues, it's very likely that even more people will commit suicide."

Do you think there is an inherent connection between these suicides?

"It's very possible, but there's no evidence to confirm it yet. According to reliable sources, similar incidents have occurred in other provinces and cities in recent weeks."

"My God, nationwide. What about overseas?" I immediately started making connections.

There are no reports yet.

"So the police don't have any concrete leads either? Oh right, wasn't there a female college student who survived? What could we possibly get from her?"

"Without any clues, the female college student went completely insane after being rescued. She didn't recognize anyone and suffered from a severe mental breakdown. The doctors at the mental hospital tried everything they could but were still helpless."

"It's simply unbelievable."

"Although the deceased did not know each other, including your classmates and colleagues, according to our investigation, they all had one thing in common before their deaths—they were all netizens."

"Really?" I was somewhat shocked.

"You can notice that their suicides are like an infectious disease, one after another, so similar, yet no cause can be found. In the biological world, this kind of infectious disease comes from bacteria and viruses. I personally speculate that there may be a virus that causes people to commit suicide." Ye Xiao emphasized the word "virus".

I was stunned. Was it really that terrifying? I stared at the computer screen; the faces of the dead were facing me. I was truly terrified. I was afraid of seeing myself reflected in those images. I glanced at Ye Xiao again, then muttered to myself, "Virus."

Virus? January 6th

I was on my day off when the phone suddenly rang, waking me from my rare nap. I picked up the receiver but couldn't hear anything. After about ten seconds, I heard breathing sounds on the other end, getting louder and louder, like a snake flicking its tongue. The more I imagined it, the more horrified I became. Could it be—thankfully, the other end suddenly started talking, stopping my endless, terrifying thoughts.

"Hello, this is Dr. Mo from the mental health clinic."

Dr. Mo, I was half asleep when he startled me again. It took me a long time to remember that so-called psychologist.

"Oh, it's you. What happened just now? What was that strange sound?" I hoped he would answer that there was something wrong with the phone.

"Sorry, I scared you. Well, it's nothing. I was just testing your willpower." His voice trembled slightly. Maybe he was laughing at me, or maybe it was just a prank. How annoying.

"Please don't make jokes like that again. What did you call me about?"

"According to the treatment plan I set for you, you should have come to the clinic for treatment this morning."

"The treatment plan you set for me? I didn't say I wanted to continue treatment, let alone set any plan."

"But I know you need treatment, I'm not lying to you, you really need it, otherwise you'll be in great danger, you understand what I mean. And I won't charge you now, we'll settle the bill after I think your treatment is successful."

"So you're going to stab me in the back then, huh?" Actually, I rarely speak so bluntly, but I was really angry. What right did he have to say I must be crazy? I was about to refuse when he spoke first on the other end of the phone: "Actually, Rose reminded me to call you, otherwise I would have forgotten."

ROSE, that face flashed into my mind, ROSE—I murmured softly.

"What did you say?"

Damn it, he heard it.

"Excuse me, I mean, I'll be right there."

"Okay, I'll wait for you. Goodbye." He hung up the phone. The dial tone on the other end completely snapped me out of my daze. I glanced at the clock. Good heavens, it wasn't even seven o'clock yet. Could Dr. Mo be some kind of workaholic?

I struggled to get up and dawdled until 8 o'clock before leaving the house. Half an hour later, I arrived at the clinic and saw that girl named Rose again as soon as I entered.

"Good morning," she greeted me.

"Good morning," I replied, head down, not daring to look at her too much, as if I owed her something.

"Unfortunately, several people have already come for treatment. Would you like to wait here for a while?"

"Oh." My awkwardness left me speechless, especially in front of her; I could only stand there dumbfounded.

"Please sit down," she said, pointing to a row of chairs.