I'm Not A Drama God

Chapter 1: The actor returns home · “Who… am I?” · Rumble— · Pale lightning streaked through ink-black clouds. · Rain poured down in a torrent, a divine wrath drenching the muddy earth. In the reflection of the rippling puddles, a fragmented figure in vermilion flickered. · It was a youth clad in a Crimson Opera Robe. He staggered through the mud as if intoxicated, his wide sleeves fluttering in the gale. The silt clinging to the fabric was washed away by the downpour, revealing a shade of blood-red that was startlingly vivid against the dark night. · “Stop it… stop the noise!” · “All of you, shut up!” · “I’m about to remember… almost… I’m almost there…” · “I have a name… a name that belongs to me!” · The youth’s wet black hair hung over his brow, his dilated pupils clouded with confusion. He shuffled forward with difficulty, clutching his head with both hands as if struggling to dredge up a memory. · His roar echoed through the deserted street, but before it could travel far, it was swallowed by the endless curtain of rain. · Thud— · In the gloom, his foot caught on a protruding stone, and he slammed heavily onto the ground. · A streak of scarlet blood rolled down from the youth’s temple. He lay there prone, staring blankly at the earth, when suddenly a spark of light flickered in his turbid eyes as if he had remembered something. · “Chen Ling…” · A name suddenly flashed through his mind. · The moment he uttered those two syllables, a fragment of memory drifted out from the endless whispers threatening to split his skull, merging with this weakened body. · “What is this… transmigration?” · Chen Ling’s brow furrowed. He continued to digest the memories of this body, his brain throbbing with a sharp, cleaving pain. · His name was Chen Ling, twenty-eight years old, an intern Director at a theater in the capital. That day, after the performance ended, he had been alone on the stage arranging the actors' blocking. Then, a violent earthquake struck. He felt a sharp pain at the crown of his head and lost consciousness completely. · Thinking back now, he had likely been crushed to death by a falling spotlight… · At this moment, Chen Ling was slowly processing the memories of this body. To his surprise, the original owner of this body was also named Chen Ling, yet their fundamental understanding of the world was diametrically opposed. The fractured memories warred with one another, making Chen Ling feel as though his head was about to explode. · He took deep breaths, struggling to push himself up from the ground. His Crimson Opera Robe was stained with patches of black and red, leaving him in a state of utter wretchedness. · For some reason, his body felt incredibly heavy—the kind of hollow exhaustion one feels after staying up four or five nights straight to script a play. · “Just go home first…” · His exhausted body and splintered thoughts made it almost impossible to think. He could only rely on the instincts of this body to walk toward “home.” · Though he didn't know how he had ended up here, the memories of the Original Soul contained this place. He walked this path every day after returning from caring for his brother at the Clinic. From here to the house, it was usually only a two or three-minute walk. · But for him right now, this distance felt unprecedentedly long. · The rain, carrying a bone-chilling cold, washed over Chen Ling’s body. He couldn't stop shivering. Enduring the cold and fatigue for ten minutes in the rain, he finally arrived before the door he remembered. · Chen Ling fumbled in his pockets for a moment and realized he didn't have his keys. · Following a practiced motion, he reached under the newspaper box by the door, pulled out a spare key, and opened the house. · Creak— · Warm light spilled from inside, illuminating a corner of the dark, rainy night and Chen Ling’s pale face. · The moment he saw the light, Chen Ling’s frayed nerves naturally relaxed. The cold and exhaustion seemed to be slightly dispelled by that single lamp. · He stepped into the house. Two figures sat on opposite sides of the dining table, their eyes red as if they had just finished a bout of crying. · Hearing the door open, the two froze for a second before turning their heads simultaneously. · “Dad… Mom… I’m back.” · Chen Ling, his head heavy and dazed, instinctively prepared to change his shoes at the door, only to realize he had been barefoot from the start. His soles and the gaps between his toes were packed with mud, leaving two large, black footprints on the floor. · The two figures sitting at the table saw the red-clothed Chen Ling enter, and their pupils constricted violently! · “You… you…” · The Man’s Adam’s apple bobbed. His mouth hung open, his expression as if he had seen a ghost. · “Mom… is there any water? I’m so thirsty.” Now that he was home, Chen Ling’s spirit had relaxed completely, and his consciousness was on the verge of fading. Murmuring to himself, he stumbled into the Kitchen, grabbed the jug from the water dispenser, and began to drink ravenously. · Gulp, gulp, gulp… · In the Kitchen, the figure in the Crimson Robe looked like a wild beast, greedily swallowing the water. · The water leaking from the corners of his mouth pitter-pattered onto the floor, forming a puddle that reflected the two terrified, pale faces in the living room. · “A… A-Ling?” The Woman forced herself to find some courage, her voice trembling. “How… how did you get back?” · Chen Ling continued to swallow frantically, completely oblivious to the woman’s words. Then, as if deciding that drinking this way was too slow, he shoved the thick neck of the water jug into his mouth and bit down, shattering it! · He chewed the synthetic plastic with force as the surging water poured into his throat. It was pure catharsis. · “I walked back.” · A voice came from behind Chen Ling. · Yes… from behind. · At this moment, Chen Ling was still immersed in gulping down the water, yet his voice fell clearly into the ears of the two parents. · It was as if another red-clothed Chen Ling was standing in the invisible void behind him, arms spread wide, answering as if it were the most natural thing in the world. · “The rain was a bit heavy. I think I got lost.” · “I think I tripped a few times on the road. My shoes are gone too…” · “Mom, I made a mess of the floor. If it’s not urgent, wait until I wake up tomorrow to clean it… I’m too sleepy now.” · Watching this macabre scene, the man and woman in the living room felt a chill crawl up their necks. The flame of the kerosene lamp in its glass holder flickered incessantly, as if an invisible hand were playfully teasing the wick. · Their faces were deathly white, yet they stood frozen in place, not daring to move an inch. · Finally, the water jug was drained. · Chen Ling wiped his mouth and set the jug down. He turned around, leaving a trail of black footprints across the floor as he stumbled toward his bedroom… · “Dad, Mom… you guys should get some sleep too. Goodnight.” · He mumbled the words incoherently and pulled the door shut behind him. A dull thud followed as a heavy weight collapsed onto the bed. · The living room fell into a deathly silence. · It was a long time before those two statue-like figures stiffly turned their heads to look at each other. · The flickering wick stabilized. The eerie kerosene light barely illuminated the dim living room. They sat trembling in their chairs, every drop of color drained from their faces. · “He’s… he’s back,” The Man spoke hoarsely. “How is this possible…” · “If that really is A-Ling…” · “Then who… who did we kill last night?” · [END]