DM Chapter 67

Chapter 67: Epilogue

 

Jiang Xiaoyuan had to take care of her grandmother, so Qi Lian went ahead to manage the affairs of the studio.

She sat quietly in the hospital room, staring at the white walls, reflecting on her “Life Like Summer Flowers” themed show. She realized that Mr. Jiang was right—she often had flashes of inspiration, but when she tried to express them through styling or painting, it always felt off.

She had the urge to bother Jiang Bo, but at the last minute, she always held back. Instead, she repeatedly revised her work, often revising until it felt like she was hitting her head against a wall. She knew all too well how hard it was to “earn those two bucks for a lottery ticket.”

At the end of that year, Jiang Xiaoyuan took her grandmother to the place where she would compete. Just before they left, Chen Fangzhou came to see them off.

Despite his small stature, Boss Chen was efficient. He carried their luggage all the way to the train station and said, “Old Man Qi will pick you up over there, don’t worry.”

Jiang Xiaoyuan waved him off. “Thanks, Boss Chen. When I make it big, I’ll be sure to help you out.”

Hearing that, Chen Fangzhou felt his line had been stolen. Swallowing the “If I get rich, I won’t forget you” he had prepared, he changed it to, “You need to be more grounded. You’re not that young anymore, stop daydreaming all day.”

The train’s broadcast announced that it was time for those seeing passengers off to leave. Chen Fangzhou waved goodbye to Jiang Xiaoyuan, standing alone on the now empty platform, looking like a small black date shivering in the cold wind. He hunched his shoulders, scrunched up his face, and clasped his hands together. He heard the train let out a long puff of steam, then slowly and steadily moved away.

Suddenly, Chen Fangzhou took a few steps forward, then stopped abruptly, realizing what he was doing.

“What am I doing?” he thought, confused. “Am I about to jump onto the platform?”

The station police glanced at him curiously, sizing him up. Deciding he didn’t seem capable of anything criminal, they quickly looked away, no longer paying attention to him.

The cold wind blew through his head, making it feel empty. Chen Fangzhou sniffed and walked back, feeling lost. For some reason, he was reminded of the time, full of youthful enthusiasm, when he headed south to make his way in the world.

Back then, train tickets didn’t require real names, and you didn’t have to show your ID or ticket to get into the station. Every young troublemaker was proficient in two or three ways of dodging the fare. Teenage Chen Fangzhou only knew one, so perhaps he only deserved to be called a “wandering drifter.”

He snuck onto the train and hid in the restroom, dodging left and right through the carriages, outwitting the ticket inspector. The air was thick with the sour smell of beer-soaked chicken feet, but his heart was filled with vast dreams.

Now, the scent of that vast dream had dissipated. All that remained was the desire for a home, a wife, and soon, a child.

But no warmth remained.

After all, those days were long gone—Chen Fangzhou shook his head as he listened to the sound of the train growing distant. He felt like he had parted ways with another version of himself. There was a strong urge in his heart to look back, but he knew it would be pointless. So, he smiled, swallowed a mouthful of cold air, and headed home.

On the way, Jiang Xiaoyuan texted Qi Lian, letting him know the train would arrive on time. Then she added: “By the way, could you help me find a cheap and convenient place to stay? I’ll settle there first, then take my time finding a more permanent place.”

Qi Lian replied briefly: “Got it. You don’t need to worry.”

…What does he mean by “don’t need to worry”?

When she arrived at her destination, sporting dark circles under her eyes, Qi Lian showed up in a car he had somehow procured. He drove her directly to an apartment building, took out a key from his pocket, and handed it to her. “I’ve rented the place. You’ll live here from now on. It’s less than 800 meters from the studio.”

Jiang Xiaoyuan: “…”

He had rented a place without even telling her! Overwhelmed, she could only express her respect for his silent care once again.

Her grandmother was next to her, eyeing Qi Lian suspiciously.

Qi Lian carried the luggage inside and smiled at her grandmother. “The room on the left is yours.”

Her grandmother finally spoke up, “Would you like to come in for a cup of water?”

Qi Lian was very well-behaved:. “No, it’s too late, and it wouldn’t be appropriate.”

Her grandmother relaxed a bit, dropping the false courtesy. “Oh, thank you, young man. You should head back early.”

Qi Lian responded cheerfully: “Okay.”

Then, he unlocked the door to the room on the right and went inside.

No one knew how he had managed to find two rooms for rent, right next to each other. The apartment was thoughtfully set up to accommodate elderly needs—there were no thresholds or steps. Though small, it was enough for them. Jiang Xiaoyuan even spotted a small, stylish workspace in the corner of the bedroom.

“How considerate,” she thought.

That night, Jiang Xiaoyuan had a very strange dream.

In her dream, there was a giant screen so big she couldn’t see the top, no matter how far back she tilted her head. The screen was divided into countless small, square sections, each about the size of an urn.

About 70% to 80% of the small screens were black, as if they were broken, while the rest displayed images, all starring one person—Jiang Xiaoyuan herself.

She instinctively took a few steps back, carefully walking along the base of the giant screen.

Some of the screens showed such miserable versions of herself that she couldn’t bear to look. So, she didn’t. Jiang Xiaoyuan, being somewhat vain, lingered around the screens that depicted her looking impressive.

For example, on one screen, she was decked out in jewels, wearing sunglasses that covered half her face. She looked glamorous and aloof, stepping out of a building she didn’t recognize. Reporters immediately rushed to her side, snapping photos and calling out “Teacher Jiang” as they trailed behind her.

Jiang Xiaoyuan was overjoyed. “Wow, is that me?”

As soon as she thought that, the word “Replay” appeared on the screen.

Curious, she pressed it and saw the unfortunate version of herself that had been tossed into this world.

But this Jiang Xiaoyuan was different. After being ostracized at the salon, she didn’t endure it silently. Instead, she packed up and left with her heart as tough as her words, wandering around for a while before finding a job at a custom clothing shop.

She started by sweeping the floors, and in the bitter winter nights, her hands were full of chilblains and pricks from needles. In the dim light of a flickering lamp, she sewed, learning bit by bit. Slowly but surely, she became a well-known fashion designer.

Jiang Xiaoyuan felt a surge of excitement, completely absorbed in what she was seeing. After watching this screen, she couldn’t get enough and immediately searched for another to fantasize about.

After a while, she found another impressive-looking one.

In this screen, Jiang Xiaoyuan had become a famous artist, hosting her own art exhibitions. She quickly found the “Replay” button again and discovered that this version of her diverged when Qi Lian first promised her unconditional help.

Unlike the real Jiang Xiaoyuan, the one in the screen hesitated for a while but eventually accepted his offer. With Qi Lian’s financial support, she studied at a renowned art school abroad. Knowing exactly what she wanted and having some talent, she advanced smoothly and ended up doing quite well.

Jiang Xiaoyuan silently reflected on this, feeling somewhat satisfied but also sensing a vague discomfort. It just didn’t feel as thrilling as the previous screen.

At that moment, she wondered: “What do those black screens mean?”

The thought had barely crossed her mind when a nearby black screen suddenly displayed the word “Replay.”

Black screens probably weren’t a good sign. Jiang Xiaoyuan wasn’t too keen on watching, but curiosity got the better of her, and she pressed it.

The screen showed a black-and-white video. In the beginning, everything was the same—this Jiang Xiaoyuan had accepted Qi Lian’s support. But then things started to change. She attended school, but her heart wasn’t really in her studies. She drifted through her courses, more preoccupied with the person who was funding her.

When Jiang Xiaoyuan had someone on her mind, it was always the same—if she had the upper hand, she was charming and confident, but if she felt insecure, she turned into a total princess, making a scene.

Even a thief knows that “seeking wealth and taking lives” is a great injustice, so in the end, she couldn’t have both the money and the person. Finally, when Qi Lian coldly turned his back on her, she surrendered to the virus.

The screen then returned to black.

So, the “black screens” represented moments where she had lost to the virus.

Jiang Xiaoyuan gazed into the distance and noticed that some of the previously lit screens were gradually going dark. However, no matter how many screens went out, there were always a few that remained illuminated.

Every choice a person makes creates a parallel universe, where the person in that parallel world walks down the opposite path. Two timelines depart from the same starting point, only to diverge.

So, are there countless viruses entangled with her in infinite parallel timelines?

Has she lost to the virus countless times while also defeating it over and over again?

Jiang Xiaoyuan didn’t know. After all, this was just a dream without any logic.

However, when she woke up promptly at 5 a.m., she suddenly felt a sense of purpose—she had to take responsibility for the path she had chosen because perhaps countless versions of herself, who had taken different paths, were quietly watching her.

Jiang Xiaoyuan quickly got up and started her busy day.

She had to hand over the new studio to Qi Lian.

She had to contact clients.

She had to prepare to recruit a team.

And she had to continue revising her “Life as Glorious as Summer Flowers” piece…

Maybe she’d be eliminated in the first round, but that didn’t matter. If her skills weren’t good enough, she could always try again.

Perhaps even when her skills improved, she’d still miss success by a bit of luck, but there was nothing she could do about that. She’d just have to enter a few more draws to comfort her stubborn heart.

Even if she didn’t win in this world, maybe in another parallel universe, she would.

“Even if time were only two-dimensional, it would unfold as a plane rather than a straight line, with countless directions. This means we can make countless choices simultaneously.”

“Among them, one choice is bound to be the right one.” — The Three-Body Problem by Liu Cixin.

 

 

 

T/N: Hi! The here! Not really the translator, which is Cami. I’m just here to happily announce that we have finally reached the end of this novel’s journey. If you have time, I hope you can rate the novel on novelupdate.  And if you enjoyed the book, I also greatly encourage for you guys to support the author by purchasing chapters on the official website. If you are interested in reading more translations from us, feel free to check my other translation: Jiao Jiao, You Wouldn’t Want To.

 

 

 

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