Chapter Ninety-Three: Greed

"Anran. That is a lovely name. Why are you scribbling all over the wall?"

Fang Meiqi turned and poured a glass of water, handing it to Lin Anran.

"I am not scribbling. These are their stories," Lin Anran said with a serious expression as she took the glass.

"Their stories? Who are they?"

"Do you know that ghosts exist in this world?" Anran asked, looking at Fang Meiqi.

"Ghosts? Ah ha ha!" Fang Meiqi laughed. "Maybe they really do exist, but if your mind is free of wicked thoughts, there is nothing to fear. You could even be friends with them!"

Lin Anran looked at her solemnly. "I am not lying. Everything I said is true. Those things I wrote were told to me by them."

"All right, all right. I suppose I believe you, Ghostly Little Writer." As she spoke, Fang Meiqi pinched Anran's nose.

Suddenly, Lin Anran's pupils dilated and her face tensed. Beads of sweat began to pour down her cheeks. She pulled a piece of chalk from her pocket, dropped to the floor, and began frantically drawing and writing again.

"Anran, Lin Anran, calm down! Calm down now!" Fang Meiqi grabbed her hand, but Anran could not stop writing on the floor. Fang Meiqi forcibly snatched the chalk from her, yet Anran went on scraping and scrawling with her fingertips, continuing until her fingers were rubbed raw and blood began to show, still refusing to stop.

Seeing that she could not control Anran, Fang Meiqi hurried to fetch a blank manuscript and writing tools she used for her own work.

"Use these!" she said, handing them over.

Lin Anran glanced at her, then took the tools and began to draw and write on the blank pages.

After a long time, she collapsed onto the floor, utterly exhausted.

"Anran! Anran?" Fang Meiqi carried her to the bed.

Then Fang Meiqi picked up the manuscript Anran had just filled on the floor. She only had to read a few lines before she was utterly drawn into the story.

"This is the kind of story I want. A story that can captivate everyone!" Fang Meiqi looked at the girl lying on the bed, then hid the manuscript in her cabinet.

For some time afterward, Lin Anran lived in Fang Meiqi's apartment. They ate together, went shopping together, played together. Fang Meiqi cared for her as tenderly as a mother. And the manuscripts Lin Anran wrote kept growing more and more numerous.

One day, Fang Meiqi brought the novel manuscript Lin Anran had written to a publishing house.

"These stories are really excellent. How did you come up with them? If a book like this were published, it would sell enormously. It's practically perfect!" A fiction editor sat in a chair, carefully examining the manuscript Fang Meiqi had handed over.

"Thank you for the praise. They are not that wonderful, though. Compared with the novels of other great writers, they are rather ordinary," Fang Meiqi replied modestly before the editor.

"These should all be your own works, shouldn't they?" the editor asked suddenly.

"Huh? Oh! Of course... of course they are my own works. I would not dare claim otherwise, but I can say that the stories in this novel were definitely created entirely by me, on my own." Fang Meiqi looked slightly unnatural, yet still forced herself to answer with confidence.

"Please do not take offense. I only find it odd that this novel's style is so different from your earlier work. Still, congratulations. You will become a contracted novelist with our publishing house. My name is Fang Yue, and from now on I will be your editor." Fang Yue neatly straightened the manuscript and handed it back to Fang Meiqi. "From now on, just organize the manuscript into a document on your computer and send it directly to my email."

"Thank you, Editor Fang Yue!" Fang Meiqi said happily, taking the manuscript and bowing politely to the editor before leaving the publishing house in high spirits.

On her way back, Fang Meiqi bought fish, meat, eggs, and other things, planning to reward herself properly.

When Fang Meiqi reached the door of her apartment, she found a crowd gathered outside. Startled, she quickly dropped the groceries in her hands and rushed forward.

"What are you doing? What are you doing here?" Fang Meiqi burst into the apartment and found Lin Anran cornered by several people.

"What do you bastards think you're doing? Do you want me to call the police?" Fang Meiqi said, forcing the people surrounding Anran apart and standing protectively in front of her.

"She's a jinx. She wrote on the wall that my daughter would be crushed to death by a flowerpot falling from above. A few days later, my daughter was walking home, and a flowerpot dropped from some apartment upstairs and hit her square on the head. She died on the spot. Her writing is nothing but bad luck!" A middle-aged woman with a face full of grief and fury broke out from the crowd and shouted.

"That was just a coincidence. It had nothing to do with her. She only wrote something at random," Fang Meiqi defended Lin Anran.

"This is not the first time something like this has happened!" Another very tall man stepped forward from the crowd. "She wrote that my wife would drown to death, and in the end my wife really did choke on water while bathing and drowned in the tub."

"Enough. Shut your mouths, all of you. None of this has anything to do with her. She only wrote a few random, messy words," Fang Meiqi roared at the people around her.

"She's a jinx. She brings misfortune. She has to leave here, far away from us." The crowd around them grew increasingly agitated. Even though Fang Meiqi stood in front of Lin Anran, the enraged people still slammed into her and knocked her aside.

"Stop it! Have you all gone mad? You bastards!" Fang Meiqi got to her feet and charged toward the crowd, trying to snatch Lin Anran back. But one person could never fight so many. She could not even force her way into the mass of bodies again.

"Ah!" Suddenly, a woman's scream tore through the crowd, and the people scattered in all directions like children who had done something wrong.

Fang Meiqi saw that somehow, a fruit knife had been driven into Lin Anran's abdomen.

"Get out! All of you, get out!" Fang Meiqi screamed like a madwoman and rushed forward to clutch Anran in her arms. "Anran, don't be afraid. It's all right. It's all right. I'll take you to the hospital. You won't be in danger."

The surrounding crowd hurried away like guilty children.

At that moment, Lin Anran saw the manuscript Fang Meiqi had dropped on the floor. "Th... those... those manuscripts... did I write them? No. No, they cannot be allowed to spread. Otherwise, the resentful spirits will draw power from them and use it to kill people," she said weakly.

"Don't talk. Don't talk. I'll take you to the hospital first." Fang Meiqi hurried to lift her up.

"Promise me. Don't let them get out. Those novel manuscripts really cannot be kept." Lin Anran said anxiously.

"Forget about that for now. Save your strength. Don't speak so much. I'll take you to the hospital." Fang Meiqi stood up, intending to carry her there.

"Promise me. You have to promise me. You absolutely must not let those manuscripts spread. The resentful spirits really will kill people." Lin Anran said with difficulty, gripping Fang Meiqi's collar.

"Enough!" Fang Meiqi suddenly lowered her head, her face darkening. "What do the lives and deaths of other people have to do with me? Those novels can make my dream come true. Whether others live or die is their own business."

"W... what? You want to use these murderous manuscripts to fulfill your dream?" Lin Anran stared at Fang Meiqi in shock.

"I have already said it. What do other people's lives and deaths have to do with me? These novels... these novels... these novels can help me become a real novelist." Fang Meiqi was nearly delirious.

"No. I will not let you do that!" Lin Anran pushed Fang Meiqi away suddenly and fell hard to the floor.

"Anran, Anran! This is my only chance. These novels are my only hope. I am a novelist, and I want my works to remain in this world. I do not want to live my whole life like an ordinary person, unnoticed and forgotten, until death takes me and leaves no trace that I ever existed. I only... I only want to have even the slightest sense of presence in this world. Do you understand?" Fang Meiqi said to Lin Anran, who lay on the floor on the verge of death.

"These... these are not your works. I wrote them, and I will deal with them myself," Lin Anran said, and with a final burst of strength, she clutched her wound and reached for the manuscript on the floor. "They should never have existed." As she spoke, she pulled out a lighter and tried to burn the manuscript.

"No... don't... don't do that. It is mine. They are all mine. They are my works. All mine!" Fang Meiqi threw herself at Lin Anran like a madwoman and tore the manuscript from her hands.

Lin Anran lay on the floor, terribly weak. Blood soaked her collar. She no longer had the strength to rise.

"It is mine. They are all mine. They are all my works. All mine!" Fang Meiqi looked at the dying Lin Anran on the floor and, unable to bear it, turned her face away, until at last Lin Anran's breathing ceased altogether.