You know what?
Life was going great.
Suspiciously so, but he wasn't going to poke it with a stick.
He had groceries in his fridge. Actual groceries. Green-ish vegetables. Eggs that hadn't expired or turned green. He only wanted one thing out of the two green, and it definitely wasn't the eggs. He'd changed into fresh clothes. The apartment was clean, gleaming even, like a rental listing picture that was unlike the actual scenario.
He was still hungry, though. Just a wee bit.
"Maybe," Jianlan murmured, leaning against the counter. Even though no one was there or watching, he tried to strike a cool pose. You never knew if you were in a movie, and you really needed to make sure that if you were on screen, you were in a cool pose. Maybe he looked cool, maybe he looked like a posturing chicken. Sue him. "Maybe I'll make one of those TikTok recipes."
This was, objectively, a terrible idea.
However, most of Jianlan's life was a terrible idea.
He opened the app.
[EZ chawanmushi recipe]
A hundred results.
Two hundred.
One with a thumbnail that promised inner peace. Inner peas. Dinner please.
It was even made by a Japanese person! Must be authentic.
"Alright," he said, squaring his shoulders. "Let's do this."
He propped his phone up, hit play on some background music, and chose Green Day. Because he had principles. Because some lines did not get crossed. He wasn't a heathen, obviously.
He hummed along as he worked. Crack eggs. Whisk. Add water. (You were meant to use chicken broth but he didn't have any. He just put extra salt to try and make up for it). Scoop the little bubbles out. Pretend he knew what he was doing. His movements were confident in that very specific way where confidence was mostly inherited and only partially deserved. Thank heavens for chinese genes, at least allowing Jainlan to cook somewhat well.
Twenty minutes later, the apartment smelled incredible.
Warm. Savory. Comforting. The kind of smell that reached into your chest and told your nervous system to unclench.
Jianlan inhaled deeply.
"Bless my Chinese genes," he said solemnly, peering into the steamer, "for occasionally activating."
When he tried, anyway.
The chawanmushi emerged smooth and glossy, wobbling just enough to feel smug about it. Just a little drop of sesame oil on top. Some soy sauce and a couple pieces of spring onion. He stared at it with pride, grabbed a spoon, and sat down at the table.
For the first time all day, nothing was chasing him.
No buses.
No old men.
No foggy glass.
Just food, music, and the fragile illusion that maybe, just maybe, the universe had gotten tired.
Sigh. Life was going so well.
Wait.
SHIT HE FORGOT THE RICE.
He hit his head on the table.
Oh well.
At least he had the steamed egg.
Before the spoon could complete its sacred journey to his mouth, Jianlan's phone rang.
Once more.
At this point, he was beginning to suspect it was cursed. Or possessed. Or had signed a contract with fate behind his back.
He glanced at the screen.
…Oh.
How nice.
A message from Jasper.
His lab partner.
Why was his lab partner calling him.
A message popped up immediately after.
"open up, im at your door"
Waht.
What?
Jianlan blinked at the screen.
Slowly.
Carefully.
As if rapid movement might make the words worse.
He marked the message as unread.
Then, with great determination, turned the phone off.
The screen lit up again.
Another message.
He didn't read it. He slammed the phone into Do Not Disturb, flipped it face down on the table like a cursed artifact, and returned his attention to the chawanmushi.
Focus.
Peace.
Egg.
He lifted the spoon again.
This time, nothing would stop him. Not today. Not after everything he'd been through. The spoon hovered, steam curling up like a blessing.
Then—
BANG.
BANG BANG BANG.
The door rattled.
before the wonderful, spectacular steamed egg could enter his mouth and bless his palate, he was once again horribly interupted, by horrifically loud banging on his door.
Loud. Insistent. Violent in a way that suggested Jasper had decided knocking was a competitive sport.
Jianlan froze.
The spoon trembled. Fear? Anger? Both.
Another bang.
"Jianlan!" came a voice from the other side. "I know you're in there!"
He stared at the door.
Then at the spoon.
Then at the ceiling, like it might offer guidance.
"…I hate my life," he whispered, setting the spoon down with exaggerated care.
He slammed the door open.
"What?!"
Not like he was being mean, exactly. That wasn't the point. This was friendship. The type of friendship that screamed at each other until the neighbors wondered if the world had gone mad. An old woman nearby, walking back to her apartment, paused and smiled faintly. Ah, the vigor of youth, she mused, and Jianlan felt oddly judged.
Jasper glared at him like he'd just personally defiled a national monument.
"Dude," he started, voice low and deadly, "neither of us did the work."
Jianlan blinked.
"What work?" he asked, entirely earnestly.
"The PowerPoint," Jasper said, teeth gritting.
"The… what PowerPoint?"
"The one about degrader proteins for trabectedin ADCs."
"Oh," Jianlan said, face falling. "That PowerPoint."
The horror of recognition hit him. The same dull, existential weight he'd felt with lightning, taxis, and old men now landed squarely on his shoulders.
Once again, for the second time that day, Jianlan slammed the door in someone's face.
BANG.
The echo bounced down the hallway.
Jasper's yell followed it.
"…Jianlan!"
Jianlan sighed, retreating to the safety of his apartment. He muttered under his breath, "It's… it's fine. It's fine. We're… we're fine."
The chawanmushi, now definitively cold, waited silently on the table, like a small, judgmental monument to his life choices.
Jianlan finally sat back down, spoon poised over the chawanmushi like it was a tiny, savory trophy. Fortunately, it was still warm. He hadn't completely failed at life today.
Of course, being the idiot he was, he had completely forgotten to lock the door.
Jasper didn't say a word. He just walked in like he owned the place, and was paying rent. Jianlan stabbed his egg resentfully. Jasper, meanwhile, took off his shoes. He even locked the door behind him.
Jianlan blinked. "…Wow," he whispered to himself. "…what a nice guy."
At least his face made up for the lack of basic politeness the rest of the time. Jasper's expression was the perfect mix of deadpan and judgment, which somehow made everything less stressful.
He sat at the table across from Jianlan.
Jianlan did not offer him any food.
Mine.
That's what his eyes said. Aggressively. Protectively. Like a wolf guarding a particularly precious, eggy cub.
Mine.
Actually, now that Jianlan thought about it, he and Jasper had become friends absurdly fast. They'd met in Biology 101, sat next to each other by pure accident, and then paired up for lab purely because their names both started with J. Fate, it seemed, had a sense of humor.
Once they'd started working together, it turned out their personalities… clicked. It also helped that Jasper's face wasn't half bad.
Jianlan hyper-focused, panicky, melodramatic.
Jasper calm, efficient, quietly judgmental.
It was… perfect. Somehow.
Still, none of that explained why Jasper was currently in his house, eating the air in a way that made Jianlan feel simultaneously safe and mildly threatened.
"Uh," Jianlan said finally, between bites, "…why are you here?"
Jasper raised an eyebrow, spoon halfway to his mouth.
"…Because you didn't lock the door," he said simply.
Jianlan groaned.
"Why are you actually here?" Jianlan asked, voice sharp, suspicious, suspiciously loud.
"To work. Obviously," Jasper said, calm, smug, like he was announcing the weather.
Jianlan squinted. "…Do you mean, like, to make me do the work?"
"That too," Jasper said, beaming at him like the absolute rat he was. The stinky, stinky rat. Evil rat. He couldn't even call him an ugly rat, since that would be wrong.
"I hate you," Jianlan muttered, voice heavy with melodrama.
"Aww, Pookie Bear," Jasper cooed, leaning back in the chair, "love you too!"
Jianlan froze mid-chew. The chawanmushi hovered between spoon and mouth, a tiny eggy monument to his life's failures. One wrong twitch, and it would plummet to the table like a symbol of his entire day.
Jasper grimaced. "Let's… forget I ever did that. Please."
Jianlan blinked. Slowly, deliberately, he nodded.
"…Fine," he said. "…But only because I still get to eat my eggs in peace."
Jasper grinned, clearly aware he had won, and Jianlan returned his focus to the steaming chawanmushi, mentally adding survived Jasper's betrayal to the list of small victories today.
"Do you think Prof'll accept a Mount Rushmore made of cheddar?" Jianlan asked, eyebrows raised, spoon paused mid-air.
"No," Jasper said immediately. "Also, cheddar's really expensive. Make it out of dirt or something."
"…Maybe we can AI it?" Jianlan suggested hopefully.
"Nah," Jasper said, shaking his head. "She checks it with a checker. The stupid thing marks non-AI as AI all the time. What do you think it'll do to real AI?"
"…Good point," Jianlan muttered, scribbling mentally.
"Maybe we can… like… write a song," Jasper ventured slowly, "to apologize about not doing the assignment?"
Jianlan considered this. He hummed. Chewed a bit of chawanmushi. Looked up at Jasper. "…Do you have a guitar?"
"No," Jasper said. Plain. Definitive.
"Musical instrument?" Jianlan tried again.
"No," Jasper said again. Tone dry, almost proud in its bluntness.
"…Any musical ability?" Jianlan asked, voice slightly incredulous.
Jasper opened his mouth. Considered it. Paused. Thought. Weighed the consequences of honesty versus hope.
Then shut his mouth.
"…Right," Jianlan said softly, spoon hovering. "…We're screwed."
Jasper smirked faintly, silent, smug, like a rat with perfect timing.
Jianlan sighed. Maybe the cheddar Mount Rushmore wasn't the worst idea after all.
They ended up grinding the project. Hard.
Thirty slides. Thirty agonizing, pixel-perfect slides.
To be fair, Jasper did most of the actual work. Jianlan… added flair. Edited every slide until it looked like it had been blessed by angels. Made them pretty. Added in Transformers, because why not. Optimus Prime now somehow taught degrader proteins better than any professor ever could.
They looked at it. Grinned. High-fived. Small victory. Immense satisfaction.
Then, because the universe owed them something after all the chaos, they got takeout pizza. Hot. Greasy. Perfect.
They had a movie night. Laughed at bad horror films, made snide commentary at cheesy action flicks. Invited another friend from downstairs, because misery loved company.
Morning came. The pizza was cold. Only Jasper ate it cold. Jianlan, like the true smarty McSmarty-pants he was, microwaved his slice until it was just the right temperature. Breakfast victory achieved.
Together, they walked to class. Side by side. Umbrellas barely holding up. Rain dripping lazily from rooftops. Drizzle again.
Stupid rainy season.
Jianlan kicked a puddle lightly. Jasper didn't notice. He didn't care.
"Hey… Jasper?" he said, voice cautious. "Do you see that woman over there? Should we… you know, go help her?"
There she was. A bedraggled woman in a white dress, completely soaked by the rain. Hair plastered to her face, shoes who-knows-where, looking like she had just wandered out of a tragic painting.
Jasper glanced over, shrugged, and muttered something under his breath. "Stop messin' with me, dude. Hey, look! It's Austin!"
Before Jianlan could protest, Jasper bolted ahead. Full speed. Hero mode activated.
Jianlan hesitated for a heartbeat, then ran too, groceries forgotten, earbuds flapping uselessly.
Halfway down the street, he looked back.
The woman was gone.
Nothing.
Just the wet gray street, the drip of rain, and the distant hum of city life.
Maybe he had imagined her.
Maybe he hadn't.
Either way… his chest tightened. Something about that fleeting image felt off.
"…Yeah," he whispered to himself, slowing to a jog. "…Probably just… seeing things."
Time skip.
"Twenty-five years. TWENTY-FIVE YEARS of teaching. Never have I once had a class where all but one group used AI!" Their professor hissed at the class, veins popping in a way that made Jianlan wonder if she had been living underwater for decades.
A brave soul, clearly tempting fate, raised a hand.
"Which team didn't use it?"
The professor grunted, a sound like gravel being scraped across a tombstone.
"Jasper and Jianlan," she spat. "It was obvious. AI does a better job than they can."
Hey.
Wait. No, that's mean! Jianlan didn't pout. He was more dignified than that.
The class went quiet. Somber. Reflective. Maybe a little afraid for their lives.
When the bell finally rang, the professor stormed out, muttering about idiots and Transformers, leaving a faint whiff of indignation behind her. Jianlan, ever melodramatic, hoped she didn't get heartburn from all that rage.
A couple of girls approached them as they gathered their things.
"Hey, Jasper! Are you going to the basketball match?" they asked, giggling.
"Excuse me?" Jasper said, voice calm, a hint of smug in the tone. "I'm going to be playing."
Jianlan blinked.
"…Weren't you Division Four your entire high school career?"
Jasper smacked his back lightly. "Ignore him. Anyways…"
The girls chattered on, leaving Jianlan somewhere between admiration, confusion, and mild existential dread. They were complimenting him, on how brave he was to have put transformers on the powerpoint.
Hey! I did that!
He packed up his bag slowly, glancing at Jasper with the faintest shake of the head, and left the classroom behind.
He walked for a while. Too long to be purposeful, too short to count as brooding. His feet carried him on autopilot until he realized, with mild betrayal, that he'd ended up near the bathrooms.
He sighed.
And then jumped a full meter into the air.
There was a very girl standing next to him.
She hadn't been there a second ago. He was sure of it. Absolutely, spiritually sure. She was pretty in a soft, washed-out way, like a watercolor left out in the rain. Her voice, when she spoke, was quiet. Trembly. Aggrieved.
"My boyfriend just cheated on me," she said, staring at the floor. "Will… will you be my boyfriend?"
What the heck.
No.
Lady, back off.
Jianlan's brain blue-screened. Every instinct screamed danger, stranger, exit now. His mouth opened, but before he could assemble a polite refusal or an impolite escape—
"Jianlan!"
A familiar voice. Salvation.
He turned to see a classmate approaching. Her name was… something. Definitely a name. Unfortunately, it had been lost to the annals of time, filed away in the same mental cabinet as forgotten passwords and exam dates.
She stopped short when she saw the girl.
"Oh," she said. "My bad. Am I interrupting?"
The girl looked up and giggled.
A light, tinkling sound.
"Aw," she said sweetly. "Is he yours? It's okay, we can share. I can have half, you can have half!"
Jianlan felt his soul attempt to evacuate his body.
Jeez.
This girl was creepy.
He did not hesitate. He turned fully to his classmate, bowed with the earnest gravity of a man apologizing to society itself, and said, "Have a good day."
Then he ran.
Not jogged. Not briskly walked. He ran. Down the hallway, around the corner, away from the bathrooms, away from weird propositions, away from whatever genre his life was threatening to become.
His footsteps echoed behind him.
He did not look back.
The rest of the day passed… uneventfully.
Sort of. Mostly.
Two of his pens burst in his bag like miniature fireworks of blue and black ink. Jianlan stared at the mess as if it had personally offended him.
He had to be excused to wash out his bag in the bathroom. Soap. Water. Careful scrubbing. The faint smell of detergent lingering like a tiny triumph.
The professor didn't even blink. A life spent teaching Xu Jianlan had taught her patience… or maybe just numbness. To all of his strange bad luck.
Then came lunch. The absolute best part of the day, every day. Amazing.
A moment of hope, a glimmer of reprieve. To eat delicious food, and drink exquisite drinks like lemonade.
And then the swipe reader flashed red.
Out of swipes.
Jianlan stared at it, a little pale. All of life's plans had come together, then collapsed in the most mundane way possible.
It wasn't like he had any afternoon classes. The universe had not, apparently, scheduled him for more chaos today.
So he did what any rational, slightly defeated college student would do.
He trudged home.
Back to his clean apartment. Back to leftover pizza. Back to the quiet, comforting hum of appliances and rain-streaked windows.
Maybe tomorrow would be different.
Or maybe tomorrow would involve more buses, old men, and questionable Tinder-esque propositions.
Either way, at least today had ended without being kidnapped. Mostly.
What happened after Jianlan left:
Classmate-who's-name-is-redacted pulled out a sci-fi gun. It was a very cool gun, and any guy who would have been there would have really wanted one for themselves.
With the ease of someone taking out the trash, she sucked the girl (the one in the white dress, completely soaked and creepily insistent) into a containment chamber. The girl's expression went from smug confidence to mild indignation in the span of a heartbeat.
Redacted-classmate pulled out a clipboard, crossed a sign off with a pen that seemed to glint ominously in the fluorescent light, then grabbed a walkie-talkie.
"Anomaly cleared," she said, calm, professional, like she did this daily. Which she probably did.
A slow zoom-in revealed the clipboard. Details were meticulously recorded, all about the girl, well, ghost. Name. Birthdate. Death date. A brief recount of her "history."
Her boyfriend had cheated on her.
So she had… cut him into two. Half for her, half for the other girl. Yeesh.
A small red mark indicated the containment chamber had neutralized the threat.
And Jianlan, blissfully unaware, microwaved leftover pizza and wondered if tomorrow might include fewer knives.