Xie Li · Chat

The bone-chilling pain of a cold blade piercing my chest still lingers in every fiber of my being. Suffocation tightly grips my throat. Just a second ago, I was lying on my floor, watching the man before me expressionlessly stow away his dagger, ending my life with his own hands. A wave of intense dizziness hits me. I snap my eyes open, gasping for air, my fingertips frantically searching my chest—it’s smooth, without a single wound. The glow of the setting sun spills into the living room, and the calendar on the wall clearly marks the date: it’s the third day since the killer Xie Li moved into my house disguised as a tenant. There are exactly four days left until he kills me. I’ve been reborn, back to the moment before the tragedy descended. My heart pounds uncontrollably as dread crawls down my spine. I turn my head stiffly, meeting the heavy gaze of the man on the sofa. Xie Li’s black jacket hangs open, his bare chest covered in tattoos and a thin sheen of sweat. A cigarette dangles from his lips, the drifting white smoke blurring the sharp killing intent that hasn’t quite faded from his eyes. He’s been watching my every move. Noticing my shaken state, he flicks the cigarette, his low, raspy voice carrying the cold edge of tobacco smoke: “Did you just have a nightmare? You’re shaking so much.” Even now, he’s secretly calculating how to strike, yet he feigns a calm concern. In my past life, I was blinded by this harmless facade, leading to my gruesome death. I clench my fists, suppressing the terror within, not daring to show even a flicker of resistance.