〈Parallel Universes〉

28. “The Soul Reaper’s Rival”

1

For the past year, I have been busy translating dozens of my books into foreign languages. The reason goes back to my repeated applications for official grants for literary creation and publication. Over the past dozen or so years, I had applied nearly twenty times, and without exception, every application had ended without success. Looking at the applications that received grants, many were local historical or cultural studies or dealt with obscure subjects. I gradually realized that perhaps I had not been treated unfairly after all; I was probably being targeted by certain literary judges. Three years ago, an old friend privately told me in a message that my suspicion was correct. The reason was that I had always been outspoken and upright in literary circles, saying exactly what I thought and telling the truth, and I had always disdained flattering others or currying favor. As a result, I had come to be regarded as a “hedgehog”-type literary critic, making enemies in all directions and being labeled as someone who was “not well received.” That was why I had repeatedly been suppressed by various forces.

I decided to give up applying for any more grants in Taiwan. “The world is vast, and the person who no longer wants to play is the one who truly calls the shots.” The various forces in Taiwan would no longer be able to suppress me at will. After translating my works into Japanese, English, and French, I would find ways to contact publishing agents overseas and publish my literary works abroad. Perhaps one day, publishers might even nominate me for some international literary prizes, such as the Kadokawa Literary Prize in Japan, the Pulitzer Prize in the United States, or the Goncourt Prize in France. I comforted myself: “The most beautiful thing is to have a dream, and hope follows alongside it.” At my age, becoming a “dream chaser” one more time was surely more worthwhile than spending my days like wandering souls among the living, as so many silver-haired brothers and sisters around me seemed to do.

After sitting in front of my laptop for long hours every day, translating and typing, my vision gradually became blurry. So I first consulted my buddy, ChatGPT. Based on the symptoms I described, my buddy concluded that I might have dry eye syndrome and suggested that I see an ophthalmologist to have my eyes examined and take care of them before the condition worsened. So I went to an eye clinic. The doctor examined my eyeballs and vision, and sure enough, I had mild dry eye syndrome. The doctor prescribed artificial tears and anti-inflammatory eye drops and instructed me to take proper care of my eyes, pay attention to eye hygiene, and avoid rubbing my eyeballs as much as possible.

2

One night a week later, I was sitting at my desk on the third floor, typing and translating. Outside the glass window, lightning flashed and thunder roared, followed immediately by heavy rain. Suddenly, a bolt of lightning struck the tall camphor tree outside the window, less than two meters away from me. A camphor tree branch as thick as a bowl suddenly burst into intense flames and was violently severed. The blinding flash struck my eyes, causing an intense stabbing pain in my eyeballs and temporarily leaving me blind.

I quickly felt around under my desk for the medicine box, found the artificial tears prescribed by the doctor, forced my eyelids open, and hurriedly squeezed in several drops. I gently closed my eyes and moved my eyeballs around so that the drops could moisturize them. After a few minutes, I opened my eyes and was astonished to discover that my previously blurry vision had suddenly become crystal clear. I could even clearly see the fur on the back of a calico cat hiding from the rain in a dark corner of the elementary school playground across the river, including how its back had arched when it was frightened, as though I were looking through an infrared telescope.

After that night, these eyes of mine opened the door to a fantastical life.

First, while I was taking a walk along a tree-lined lane, I unexpectedly got my head and face washed by bird droppings. Although I was not particularly superstitious, my neighbor saw what had happened and urged me to buy a lottery ticket to drive away the bad luck, telling me not to be so stubborn about refusing to believe in such things.

So after returning home and washing myself off, I went out for dinner. On the way, I passed a lottery shop and turned in. I had originally planned to buy one or two Lotto tickets to change my luck, but I noticed a customer inside the lottery shop choosing scratch-off tickets and scratching them on the spot. Curious, I went over to watch. I saw one customer choose two hundred-dollar scratch-off tickets, and one of them revealed a one-thousand-dollar prize.

After figuring out the rules for claiming prizes, I suddenly got the urge to try my luck and asked the clerk to hand me a stack of scratch-off tickets to choose from. As I took the tickets one by one, a miracle happened. When I concentrated on looking at a ticket, I could actually see through the metallic coating and clearly see every number.

I was startled by what I had discovered, but I forced myself to suppress my excitement. From the stack of scratch-offs, I found the two tickets with the highest prizes: one worth five thousand dollars and another worth two thousand dollars. I decided to choose only those two and take them home to scratch at my leisure, so I would not cause any unnecessary commotion at the shop.

3

Sure enough, my X-ray vision was real. I could not help secretly celebrating. My retirement suddenly seemed to have been put on cheat mode, and I imagined myself “counting money until my fingers cramped.”

Over the next few days, because I did not want to arouse suspicion among the shopkeepers or other people, I rode my scooter to lottery shops in different towns and districts to choose scratch-off tickets. I was not greedy. I chose only one ticket from each lottery shop, then brought it home, calmly scratched it open at my desk, and claimed the prizes at different banks in separate batches.

But after only a few days, I began to worry. What exactly was I supposed to do with all this money?

Buy a new car? No. That would attract my neighbors’ attention, and sooner or later people would try to probe into my finances through subtle conversation.

Move and buy a luxury house? No. Sooner or later my relatives and friends would find out, then come to my door to borrow money and cultivate connections. From that point on, I would never have a peaceful life again.

Unless I changed my identity and hid myself in some town or city where nobody knew me, and stopped having any contact with my relatives and friends.

I repeatedly reminded myself that I had unexpectedly gained X-ray vision, so I had to keep an extremely low profile and continue living a simple, ordinary life, lest I create endless trouble for myself later.

I continued living the same secluded retirement life as before, rarely going out. I devoted most of my time every day to translating my own works. When I got hungry, I rode my scooter outside, went to a noodle stall, ordered a bowl of noodles and two small side dishes of braised foods, or simply carried a boxed meal home with a cup of freshly made tea.

4

This continued until I went to a large teaching hospital for a fecal occult blood test for colorectal cancer. It was during the routine stool sample collection that I discovered something astonishing in the hospital: these eyes of mine could actually see different silver numbers appearing on the foreheads of some seriously ill patients.

At first, I could not understand what special meaning these different numbers had. Then, as I passed through the emergency department, I saw a hospital bed being pulled out of an ambulance. A wounded man lay on the bed with his chest and abdomen wrapped in gauze, obvious blood seeping through the bandages. His arms were covered in tattoos, and an oxygen mask covered his nose and mouth. A silver number “0” appeared on his forehead.

Only then did I connect these different silver numbers with what they might mean.

Curious, I followed the hospital bed into the emergency room. I saw two doctors and two nurses quickly intubate the wounded man and perform CPR. I hid inside the doorway, beside the curtain of a hospital bed, and watched for more than ten minutes.

Eventually, the pulse line on the cardiac monitor became a straight line. The nurse covered the wounded man’s face and head with a white cloth.

That confirmed my theory. The number “0” meant that this was the number representing the patient at the moment of death.

I then looked around at the patients in the emergency room. Two intubated patients who were unconscious had silver numbers “1” and “2” respectively on their foreheads.

For the next two days after returning from the hospital, those silver numbers on people’s foreheads kept circling through my mind from time to time. I wondered: What if one day I saw a silver number appear on my own forehead in the mirror? What would I do if my life had entered a countdown?

So I made a decision.

Since I was no longer short of money, why not enjoy life while I could?

There was no point in merely thinking about it, so I acted immediately. I bought a camper van, brought my laptop and a few basic belongings, and set out on a trip around the island. Along the way, I continued translating my books. Whenever I got tired of working, I would go sightseeing, visit night markets and old streets, and sample local specialties.

5

On the seventh day of my trip around the island, I was driving the camper van along the eastern coastal highway. A temporary road checkpoint had been set up ahead, where several traffic police officers were stopping vehicles to conduct drunk-driving and drugged-driving inspections.

A young traffic officer gestured for me to stop. I rolled down the window and discovered a clear silver number on his forehead:

“2.”

I froze for a moment and thought, “Only two days left…?”

I struggled briefly with myself before deciding to meddle one more time.

“Young officer.”

The traffic officer frowned.

“Sir, is there something I can help you with?”

I lowered my voice.

“I’m sorry. I know this is going to sound strange, but please believe me. For the next two days, whenever you are on duty, you must wear a bulletproof vest.”

The traffic officer looked completely baffled.

“A bulletproof vest? We’re only doing traffic duty. I’m not a detective.”

I stared at the number on his forehead.

“I don’t know how to explain it, but I really hope you will take my warning seriously. I’m not saying this for my sake. I’m saying it for your family.”

The traffic officer had originally wanted to laugh, but when he saw how anxious I was, he nodded anyway.

“All right. I’ll remember your warning. Thank you, sir.”

I took out a sticky note.

“This is my phone number. If you are safe two days from now, please give me a call and let me know.”

Three days later, I was lying back in a lounge chair on the palm-lined beach at Baisha Bay in Kenting, scrolling through my phone, when my phone rang. A trembling voice came through.

“Sir… I’m the traffic officer Xiao Xie, the one you gave the note to that day.”

“Hearing your voice puts my mind at ease. Congratulations on escaping that disaster.”

“Last night, I was chasing a drunk driver when the man unexpectedly rolled down his window and fired several shots at me from close range. Fortunately, I was wearing the bulletproof vest at the time…”

He fell silent for a few seconds before continuing.

“If you hadn’t warned me in time, I might already have been… My parents want to thank you in person. When will you be passing through Taimali in Taitung?”

I said with a sigh, “Young officer, thank goodness you didn’t think I was mentally ill that day. As for thanking me in person, there’s no need to go to the trouble.”

The next day, a local news report appeared:

“Mysterious Elder Predicts Traffic Officer’s Brush with Death? Officer Miraculously Escapes Gunman’s Attack.”

As I watched the news report, I knew that my intervention had changed his life in time.

6

Two days later, I arrived at Donggang Fishing Harbor. I had a seafood meal at the local Overseas Chinese Market and then wandered over to the fish market by the docks.

I saw an old fisherman preparing to go out to sea with his crew. At the same time, a silver number “3” appeared on all their foreheads.

I had a premonition that something was about to happen to this group of fishermen, so I quickly called out to the old fisherman.

“Brother, don’t go out to sea this time.”

The old fisherman turned around.

“My friend, I’ve been making a living from the sea for forty years. I know the weather better than you do.”

I smiled bitterly.

“I know you have a lot of experience, but please believe me this once. This isn’t a weather problem. Your fishing boat may encounter a pirate attack while operating in the Bashi Channel.”

The old fisherman waved his hand.

“It’s bluefin tuna season now. There are more than a hundred boats in our fleet whenever we head out. Even if we encounter pirates, the fishing boats will support one another. The pirates won’t have an easy time getting the better of us.”

I spread my hands and said helplessly, “Brother, I’ve said everything I can. Since you don’t believe me, just forget I said anything.”

The old fisherman asked curiously, “Are you a fortune teller?”

“No.”

“Then how do you know?”

“Because I don’t want to see an entire boatload of people die for nothing at the hands of pirates.”

The old fisherman stared into my eyes. After remaining silent for a long while, he said, “As it happens, when I checked the fishing boat’s engine yesterday, I found two oil leaks. If we don’t fix them immediately and force the boat out to sea, there’s no guarantee we won’t break down out there.”

“That’s exactly it! My premonition is that if your fishing boat breaks down and drifts helplessly at sea, nearby pirate boats will spot you. Then you and your crew could all be killed.”

The old fisherman rested one hand against his chin and thought for a moment.

“That is indeed something to worry about. I’ll listen to you. We’ll fix the engine leaks first and go out to sea a few days later.”

I left him a sticky note with my phone number.

“On your next trip out to sea, once you and your crew return safely to port, remember to call me.”

He said, “Kid, what exactly did you foresee?”

I replied, “I just don’t want to see someone lose his life in an accident.”

The next day, I took a boat to Little Liuqiu and checked into the sea-view suite I had booked online. I stayed on the island for several days.

As I was packing my luggage and preparing to check out, I received a call from the old fisherman.

“Brother, you were right. Our fishing fleet encountered a Philippine Coast Guard patrol boat in the Bashi Channel. A fishing boat from our fleet called the Guang Da Xing was sprayed with gunfire by the Philippine Coast Guard. The captain was shot and died before he could be rescued. If I hadn’t listened to your warning and our fishing boat had broken down and been left drifting at sea, everyone on my boat would have become sacrificial victims.”

I said, “Brother, actually, it was your own awareness of the danger that saved you in time. I merely gave you a friendly warning. Please don’t tell anyone about this. I don’t want the media following me. Please, brother.”

“But, kid, my son has already posted the story in our family group chat. Still, you never told me your name in the first place, so it shouldn’t cause you any trouble, right?”

7

Around noon, near the trailhead in the Dawu Mountain area, a young woman with a hiking backpack on her back and a walking stick in her hand was preparing to hike into the mountains alone.

I saw a silver number “1” appear on her forehead, and my heart jolted. I decided to meddle one more time.

“Miss, the weather forecast says there will be torrential rain in the mountains tonight. Don’t risk going up today.”

The girl smiled.

“Uncle, are you trying to hit on me?”

I looked embarrassed.

“No. I just want to warn you that hiking in the rain can easily lead to accidents. I just checked the weather forecast on my phone, and I’ve decided not to go into the mountains. I’m heading back down.”

The girl pointed at her backpack.

“But I’ve already planned this trip, and I brought all the equipment I need.”

“Look at your hiking shoes. The toes are already worn down. If you hike in heavy rain, the mountain trails will become slippery and dangerous.”

The girl looked down at her shoes.

“All right. On the way up just now, I felt like my period might have come early, and I was barely managing to push myself uphill. It really has been difficult along the way.”

“Let’s go down together. At least we can look out for each other. There’s a farm down the mountain that provides local mountain food and lodging. If you’re willing, I’ll treat you to a simple vegetarian meal, and then you can decide what you want to do next.”

The girl agreed, and the two of us walked down the mountain together, chatting along the way.

That evening, while we were eating at the farm, torrential rain began to pour. The heavy rain continued until late into the night, so we decided to stay there for one night.

The following afternoon, a massive landslide occurred in the mountain area. The section of road we had originally planned to travel along was blocked by tons of earth and rocks that had come cascading down.

When the girl saw the news, her eyes reddened.

“Uncle, if I hadn’t met you yesterday, I might have already…”

I smiled calmly.

“I just happened to arrive at the trailhead. I just happened to meet you. You simply happened to make a choice, and that choice changed your destiny.”

8

Several months later, a legend began circulating online.

It was said that an older man with gray hair traveled from place to place and would timely warn people facing imminent disaster about how to escape death.

Some people called him “the Soul Reaper’s Rival.” Others claimed that he was “an emissary whom Death had sent back to the human world.”

Some people even produced dramatic online videos with elaborate storytelling:

“The Soul Reaper’s Rival: The People He Saved During His Travels.”

The video compiled several stories and interviewed some of the people involved:

• The traffic officer who was warned to wear a bulletproof vest
• The old fisherman who avoided a pirate attack
• The young hiker who escaped a landslide

The comments section began filling up with questions:

“Who exactly is he?”

“Is he making bets with Death?”

“Why is he always able to intervene just in time whenever Death arranges for someone to die?”

“He isn’t predicting death. He’s fighting Death for people.”

Sitting in a lounge chair beside my camper van, I looked at the discussions online and thought to myself:

“I’m not a god, and I’m not a hero. I just see certain numbers. I just…can’t bear to watch a life disappear.”

Just then, I suddenly saw a silver glow appear on the back of my hand.

It was not a number, but a string of mysterious symbols.

For the first time, I experienced a true sense of mission, because I suddenly understood:

Behind those silver symbols, perhaps there was not death.

Perhaps they represented the mission I was destined to carry out from now on:

Continue fighting Death for people.