Soul Swap: The 40-Year-Old Crazy Mom Takes the Campus by Storm

She remembered that day, when the cherry blossoms were in full bloom. A cloud of pink and white blossoms bowed over the whole school path. He turned around, and a petal fell into his collar. He said, “I think I’ve chased time here, just for you. Do you believe me?” She did. Because the light shone from behind him. Later, the light went out. A rainy October night. The screech of brakes at a crossroads. She knelt outside the ICU and heard the doctor say “We couldn’t save him” three times. In her hand, she clutched his shirt. Cherry blossoms soaked in blood had turned dark red. She thought that was the end. Eighteen years later, at the far end of a library corridor, she heard footsteps. She turned and saw him standing by the window, wearing that same shirt. The bloodstains had dried, but his eyes still belonged to the boy who’d said foolish things beneath the cherry trees. “Time shouldn’t be the reason we’re apart.” She reached out, but her fingers passed through his body. Yet her tears fell onto his hand, and he felt them. Later, she discovered that on nights when the cherry blossoms fell, she could see him if she went alone to the place where they’d first met. He had once taught her how to become a “time smuggler.” She learned with wholehearted devotion. Until he gradually turned transparent. He smiled and said, “Time is punishing me.” “Those who smuggle through time always have to pay a price.” At last, she understood: he was giving himself up so she could have one more reunion with him. On the next night when cherry blossoms fell, she used the method he’d taught her to search through time and space, and went to him. “Let me pay the price for you.” The cherry blossoms burst into bloom again. This time, the wind carried tears and an unyielding determination not to give up.