Day Zero

The old study exuded a sense of decay, the air tinged with the faint smell of mildew. The walls were peeling, revealing the yellowed layers of plaster beneath. In the corners, water stains marked where rain had once seeped in, leaving traces of moisture. The windows were clouded with dust, letting only a dim, blurred light from outside filter through. A few stray beams of sunlight slipped in through the cracks, illuminating the floating dust particles, making the room seem even more desolate.

The bookshelf, cluttered with worn-out books, had spines faded from time, their edges curled and frayed. Some books were so neglected that their yellowed, brittle pages would crumble into dust at the slightest touch. Several volumes were haphazardly piled together, long forgotten and uncared for. One corner of the shelf had collapsed, and a few books had fallen to the floor, lying open and covered in a thick layer of dust.

On the desk were scattered old papers and broken notebooks, their ink long faded, as if they held secrets that no one would ever uncover. The desk itself bore the scars of time, its wood cracked in places, with worn edges showing signs of years of neglect. An old, crooked lamp stood at one corner, its lampshade dull and dusty, the bulb so covered in dirt that it could barely emit any light.

In the corner of the room, discarded papers and remnants of furniture were piled up. An old chair’s backrest had broken off, and a few pieces of faded fabric still clung to the seat. The floorboards creaked with the weight of time, each step echoing the memories of the past.

That room behind the wall—it was modeled after the place I once lived.

“This is nearly the same routine as before—maybe next time, you can remove the bit about your 'best employee.' That photo is really unflattering.”

“Don’t even. The last few times, when there wasn’t that part, you were always so easily swayed by Xiao Jiu’s words, thinking everyone here was untrustworthy, and that this entire place was just some elaborate April Fool’s prank.”

“That’s true… But Xiao Jiu won’t be staying long, will she? She’s a traveler.”

“Xiao Jiu... I almost forgot her real name is ‘Lv.’ But yes, she’s just like you—a traveler I captured. But for now, she has no intention of leaving. Even if she does, I can handle things alone.”

"You’re still clinging to that hope… But I must ask you one more thing: what does the sky owe you? Why is there a lie between you and the sky? This is a new line you added to your story this time, isn’t it?"

“Yes, it’s new. But I believe I’ve already explained—the sky and I are separated by a deep lie.

“It’s the unreachable horizon that imprisons me on the solid ground, burdening me with the weight of my clumsy legs, forever inescapable. It forges the boundary I cannot cross, the chasm that prevents me from delving deeper into anything. Yet it overlooks everything, always silent, too stingy to offer me even a single word.

“It’s the fiercest, most violent force, not scorching, but traveling thousands of miles from the heavens, only to form a moment of gentle scenery before my eyes. It makes my body frail and fragile, incapable of withstanding the biting cold or the chill from higher places, thus confining me here forever.

“It’s the unreachable realm of countless myths that casts my current existence into the lowest depths, reducing me to something akin to a pigsty, and is most often used to mock the arrogance of merely ‘being human.’

“It’s the lie of eternity that welcomes the rushing waters of the sea, allowing all creatures of ‘life’ to return to their origin, yet it offers no escape for those who crawl upon the earth.

“It’s the wind, unnoticed by me, that brushes my skin with a fleeting moment of peace in the night sky, but leaves not a single fallen leaf as a signature to this long letter.

“It’s the deep lie that tells me it has watched over me for ages, only to deny my existence altogether once I’ve passed, refusing to acknowledge that I ever came.”

“Listening to all that, after hundreds of attempts, are you still searching for proof that you were alive?”

“Yes, yes, I am.”

“It's pointless.”

“I know, I know. I said from the start my wish could never come true.”

“That’s true, just like I’ve always said, ‘give it a try.’ But I never thought you’d still be so stubborn on this path… Fine, neither of us has anywhere else to go. You, though, once had better choices, yet you’ve insisted on walking this lonely road for far too long.”

“That’s just how I am. Much like you.”

“Are you sure it’s not because you can’t bear the thought of me leaving this place and facing true death there? Are you just using a feeble excuse to keep me here, playing this endless game with you?”

“…No, I’m not. I’m not good at lying.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, my friend. Then, with tears in my eyes, keep walking down that silent, lonely road. I will too. I’m the sort of person who, no matter what I do, it surprises no one.”

I smiled, but before I realized it, my eyes had blurred with tears—not sure whether it was from his relentless despair or his refusal to let me go. “Those tears will be mine, after all, because you never cry.”

He lifted his head once more but didn’t extend his hand this time. “The sky doesn’t cry, unless it’s already full of its own soundless tears, lying between it and me in that deep, silent lie.”