The Seventh Life
When I woke up, I discovered I was married.
My husband’s name was Pei Xubai.
But I didn’t know him at all.
Worse still, the news that day reported a female corpse. The victim had the same name and face as me, and even had fingerprints almost identical to mine.
Then I discovered this wasn’t the first time.
A fall from a building, a car accident, drowning, suffocation...
In the first six lives, “Jiang Zhaowan” had died six times.
And the record of the seventh death contained just one sentence:
She would kill Pei Xubai with her own hands.
I thought I had fallen into a parallel world, until more and more “me’s” began to appear.
Some said I was a copy.
Some said I was an experimental subject.
Some said the real Jiang Zhaowan had been dead for a long time.
And the man who appeared by my side in every life remembered every one of my deaths.
He said:
“I’ve seen many versions of you.”
“But every time, I failed to keep you alive.”
Later, I learned that death was never the truly terrifying thing.
It was this:
If your memories can be altered, your identity replaced, and even love might be a program written into your consciousness, can you still be sure the person you are now is really you?
And when the seventh life truly began, I had only one choice left:
Forget him and end the cycle.
Or remember him.
And make everyone die with us one more time.
