[The last thing she said to me before jumping into the river was: "Don't write my name."]
In the 26th year of the Republic of China, the day I boarded the "Jinjiang" cruise ship, I didn't know that seven people would die on this trip.
The first person who died was said to have suffered a heart attack, but I saw blood next to his bunk.
The second deceased was a woman who was breastfeeding at the top of the stairs in the middle of the night. She saw something she shouldn't have seen.
The third deceased person, wearing a dark green cheongsam and bright red lipstick, rolled over the side of the boat in front of me and jumped into the Yangtze River with a smile.
Before jumping into the river, she said to me: "Take a picture with your camera, but don't write my name."
I didn't listen to her.
I checked her background, traced her past, and found the photo she had hidden under the pillow in the first-class cabin. There was a line written on the back of the photo, using the eyebrow pencil she carried with her:
"Yanzhou, the magnolia is blooming, come and see me."
I thought I had it all figured out.
Until I received another note in a hotel in Chongqing. It was still written with eyebrow pencil and had the same sweet aroma, but this time there were only four words:
"You guessed wrong."
What did I guess wrong? She's not dead? Or is she simply not who I thought she was?
Or, it wasn't her who was handing me the note in the first place.
But——
Someone is using her pen to write my ending.
