Chapter 66

Special Chapters

2 The Boy with No Palm Prints (Part 2)

Nie Zun’s POV

“What are you thinking about, Nie Zun?” Suddenly, I sensed someone waving their hand in front of my eyes.

I was abruptly yanked out of reminiscing about my thirteen year old self, and right in front of me stood my psychiatrist.

Jie Pa was still wearing his Chinese tunic suit that didn’t belong to this century, complete with his antique, huge-framed glasses with a flat head of neatly combed hair.

I laughed teasingly. “Dr Jie, it’s no wonder you can’t get a girlfriend when you’re always dressed like this.”

Jie Pa smiled with a hint of embarrassment. “Stop ridiculing me, Nie Zun. How have you been? Are you still having the same dream?”

I returned his smile weakly. “I don’t think that can be fixed.”

Jie Pa pushed up the heavy frame settled on the bridge of his nose and said to me seriously, “You have to believe. Nie Xuan entrusted you to me, so I will definitely find a way to treat you.”

Actually, Dr Jie, I don’t really care if I can be treated.

During that year when I turned thirteen, out of everyone who came in contact with my hand, three died and another two were critically injured. From then on, I was labelled as a freak.

My grandpa was diagnosed with dementia when he passed, but they said that his seemingly nonsensical last words, spouted moments before his death, came from a momentary recovery of consciousness. Those words, “Don’t let anyone touch Nie Zun’s hand once he turns thirteen,” appeared to have came true.

That year, my Dad who had been working away from home rushed back to see me after hearing the rumors. On his journey back, his motorcycle inexplicably malfunctioned, making him crash. They blamed me for his death too, that I had cursed him.

After that, we moved back and forth, completely cut off from the townspeople and suffering contemptuous looks wherever we went. In that little town, we tolerated the hardships for five years before I turned eighteen. However, on that year of my eighteenth birthday, when my Mum had finally saved enough for our family to leave the ancient town for good, she suffered an abrupt heart attack and died as well.

As a result, another rumor broke out: I turned eighteen, but it wasn’t an adult that I had become––instead, I turned into a fully-developed monster.

From that year onwards, I’ve always worn my black gloves, never letting anyone touch my hand.

Except for Nie Xuan.

Nie Xuan has always said to me, “Zun’er, you’re not a monster, they’re all just superstitious. Don’t believe their absurd rambles. They’re the crazy ones; I hold your hand all the time, but amn’t I still alive and well? Dealing with the early death of your parents is traumatizing enough for a young kid, what right do they have to make it worse by pinning it on you?”

Nie Xuan has always been this way, ever the optimist since she was young. She gets flustered from time to time, and sometimes cries in devastation over the stray cats and dogs which have died along the roadside. She always wore her hair in a high ponytail, with her smile as pretty as a flower.

I stopped calling her

I chuckled and looked up at the sky.

Always…? In this world, could such words really be trusted?

“Let’s go and continue with your treatment.”

I smiled gently at him.