The first time I noticed something was wrong with this world was during a first-aid training session at the company. The instructor pointed at the CPR mannequin and said, "Remember, human blood is blue. It only slowly oxidizes and turns red after being exposed to air." At first, I thought he was making a joke. It wasn't until I saw all my colleagues nodding seriously and taking notes that I couldn't help but raise my hand. "Sir, did you misspeak? Blood is always red." The instructor and every single one of my colleagues turned to look at me as if I were a monster. The instructor frowned, flipped open the training manual, and pointed it out to me. Right there, in black and white, it read: "Blood is blue." I was dumbfounded. I pulled out my phone and searched the internet, only to find that every single result perfectly matched what was written in the manual. My coworker, Chloe, secretly tugged at my sleeve and asked with concern, "Have you been too tired lately? How could you forget such basic common sense?" I didn't know how to answer her. Under the strange stares of my colleagues, I could only force an awkward smile and say I was just joking. As soon as the training ended, I immediately rushed into the restroom, gritted my teeth, and pricked my finger with a safety pin. Bright red blood welled up. Finally, I let out a long sigh of relief. My memory was correct. Although I didn't know the reason, they were definitely playing some massive prank on me. Just as I was about to walk out, a conversation between two colleagues outside reached my ears. "Evelyn was so funny today. I can't believe she actually said blood is always red." "I know, right? My gums just happen to be bleeding. I really wanted to call her over to take a look." I peeked out through the crack in the stall door. My colleague was baring her teeth at the mirror, using a tissue to wipe the blood from her mouth. On her white teeth, blue blood was slowly turning red. 01 This was probably the first time I had ever seen blue blood on a real person. I was so shocked that I instinctively covered my mouth, not daring to make another sound. They were right. And I was right, too. So, what exactly was wrong? Long after they left, and I was sure no one else was in the restroom, I secretly crept out. Walking through the office, I looked at everything that was once familiar, yet it all felt terrifyingly alien. Because I had already realized that I was different from them. I was, I feared, an anomaly. Back at my desk, my direct supervisor, Mr. Davis, quickly called me into his office. "I heard you haven't been sleeping well lately? Are you under too much pressure?" I knew what he was referring to, but I didn't have the courage to admit it to him. Because subconsciously, I always felt that being an anomaly was not a good thing. I just gave a few perfunctory replies, making the excuse again that it was just a joke and I didn't expect everyone to take it so seriously. Fortunately, Mr. Davis didn't press the issue. He just smiled, agreed with me, and told me to make sure I got enough rest. That night, I tightly locked all my doors and windows. I drew the curtains, lit some aromatherapy candles, and went to bed early. I hoped this was all just a dream, just a figment of my imagination. I hoped that when I woke up, everything would return to the familiar track I knew. But staying awake until 3 AM, I became more and more certain that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me. So, what on earth was going on? I got out of bed, turned on my computer, and searched for information about blood again. The results were no different from the daytime. No, it wasn't just that there was no difference. I made an even more shocking discovery. The description for the Statue of Liberty read: "A landmark building located in Brooklyn, New York, completed just before the 2008 Beijing Olympics." I searched for "Times Square," and the images that came up were three bizarre buildings I had never seen before, called the "Financial Three Pillars." I searched for "Hudson River," and it showed "a river flowing through Chicago." I violently slammed my laptop shut, breathing heavily. This was sheer madness. At the same time, I finally confirmed that this world was absolutely not the one I was familiar with. 02 However, I didn't make a fuss about it. Because when I posted on an online forum questioning all this, I quickly received two replies. [The original poster needs to see a doctor.] [Did the original poster escape from somewhere?] The second reply instantly served as a wake-up call. As someone who didn't belong to this world, this might not just be a matter of astonishment for me. Exposing myself recklessly would very likely put me in danger. So I immediately deleted the post and started to camouflage myself in my subsequent life. I tried my hardest to look like a "normal" person. At the same time, I carefully observed everything in this world. Fortunately, aside from some basic facts differing from my memory, I hadn't found any issues that would affect my daily life yet. This allowed me to breathe a sigh of relief; perhaps my previous worries were unnecessary. But three days later, the first-aid training instructor came to our company again. He handed everyone a test paper, told us not to talk, and to hand it directly to him after finishing. He said it was to test the results of the training. I didn't think much of it at first, until an older colleague who had been at the company for years muttered softly: "After all these years of training, this is the first time we've had to take a test." A shiver instantly ran down my spine. Could this be... targeted at me? So I secretly peeked at my colleague's test paper. Cold sweat instantly crawled down my back. My colleague's test paper was filled with questions about first-aid knowledge. But mine... The first question was: What color is human blood? The second question was: What color is a baby's hair when they are born? ... I quickly realized I was being targeted. Although I didn't know what this meant, my intuition told me it definitely wasn't anything good. I controlled the trembling of my fingers and calmly wrote down blue and white. When I handed the paper in, the instructor gave me a meaningful look but didn't say anything. I didn't know if this meant I had passed, but I knew that from now on, every moment, I had to be much more careful. 03 The next day at noon, a few colleagues and I went to a newly opened restaurant near the company for lunch. My experiences over the past few days had made me subconsciously sensitive to the people and things around me. So I quickly noticed a man in a gray jacket sitting alone at a table diagonally behind us. In my memory, I seemed to have seen this person on the subway this morning as well. Now there was a single meal set in front of him, but he hadn't taken a single bite and was constantly looking at his phone. I picked up my phone, using the screen as a mirror, pretending to touch up my makeup while keeping an eye on his movements. In the span of less than a minute, he looked up three times, and every single time, he just "casually" glanced at me so perfectly. I knew it in my heart. As expected, he was coming for me. I didn't expose him. I pretended not to notice and finished eating with my colleagues. When I returned to the office in the afternoon, I found excuses to go down to the convenience store a few times. Unsurprisingly, I "coincidentally" ran into him every time. When getting off work, I stood at the entrance of the office building, hesitating. Should I just catch a cab home and hide? Or follow my usual routine and accept the gray jacket's "coincidental" accompaniment? Or go straight up to him and ask him clearly what he exactly wants? It would be a lie to say I wasn't afraid, but deep down, I wanted to figure out what was really going on even more. So I made a bold decision. I took a different route home. I didn't take the main road I usually took, but instead detoured into the old streets and narrow alleys where I used to rent an apartment. After turning three corners, I ducked into a convenience store, ordered some oden, and brazenly sat in front of the floor-to-ceiling window to wait. The road down from the convenience store was a dead end. And the only resident there was my former landlord. Therefore, I only needed to wait for the gray jacket to turn around, and I would formally lay my cards on the table. No matter how he tried to argue, he could no longer find an excuse for following me. Up until now, neither the training instructor nor the gray jacket had confronted me directly, which meant they didn't want to do anything to me yet. So I should still be safe for now, which was my biggest trump card. But after the gray jacket walked past me, I waited for a long time, and he never came back. As it grew darker, I stood outside the convenience store in surprise, looking to the right. The dead-end alley was eerily quiet. Only the streetlights lit up punctually, casting light on the mottled stone walls and the ground. The gray jacket, as if he had never been there, vanished. At this moment, I finally felt, once again, a chilling terror. 04 I hurried home and double-locked all the doors and windows. After drinking a whole bottle of ice water to force myself to calm down, I wrote down some questions on a piece of paper. [1. This world is not my previous world.] [2. People are paying special attention to me because I brought up the anomalies of this world.] [3. These people, and what's behind them, are absolutely not simple.] [So, what do they want?] I chewed on the end of my pen, starting to analyze this problem. Do they want to determine if I am someone from this world? No, for this matter, they completely wouldn't need to go in such a huge circle. My blood is red. With their abilities, finding out this result would be effortless. At this moment, I remembered the meaningful look the training instructor gave me when collecting the test papers. I gripped my pen and wrote firmly below: [They want to determine if I have realized that this world is abnormal.] Yes, their current actions are probing and observing based on my reactions. If I am content with the status quo, maybe they won't overly interfere with my life. But if I show very clear suspicion and resistance, I might be in danger. I took a deep breath and continued to think about the next question. So, what should I do? This was actually a topic I had been asking myself for the past few days but dared not face. Should I force myself to accept all this and live in this world like a native? Or find the source of all the weirdness and, at all costs, return to my original world? I didn't dare write down the answer, but in that instant, I already had the answer in my heart. 05 I registered an account on the country's largest Q&A community, then asked a question: [I have a bad memory and always get landmark buildings in the wrong cities. What should I do?] I didn't dare blatantly mention the anomalies of this world again, let alone the highly sensitive topic of blood color. I could only ask obscurely. If there was a companion of mine in this world, I hoped he could understand what I meant. A day later, three answers were added under the question, none of which were what I was looking for. So, I tried to add to the question: [For example, the Statue of Liberty. I always misremember where it is. What should I do?] The next morning, I saw a private message notification from that community on my phone. After unlocking my phone, in the thumbnail preview on the homepage, a user named [Peach] left me a message: [New York?] At that moment, even my heartbeat seemed to stop. I immediately clicked on it, but the community page was completely empty. That question had been deleted, and my account was inexplicably banned. I instantly realized they had discovered my little trick. At this moment, I felt both terrified and excited. I didn't know what they would do next, but I knew that I was not alone in this world. 06 After a brief moment to compose myself, I decided to go to work as usual first. The path to the subway station required walking through a narrow alley. Just as I stepped into it, someone suddenly darted out from inside and bumped into me. He said "sorry" and hurried away. I was a bit surprised, because in that split second just now, I seemed to see that the corners of his mouth were turned up in a smile. I turned back, continued walking forward, and suddenly a loud crash came from above my head. Immediately after, an air conditioning unit fell right in front of me. The shattered pieces flying up almost grazed the tip of my nose. My mind went completely blank for a moment. Then came the overwhelming sense of terror. I was almost entirely soaked in cold sweat, trembling all over. This was the first time I had been so close to death. The police arrived quickly. The investigation concluded it was due to long-term disrepair and an accidental detachment. Moreover, the police told me that the family in that apartment had moved out months ago, and the place was empty. A passerby beside me comforted me, "Young lady, surviving a great disaster means you'll have great fortune later." My face was as white as paper, because I knew very well the reason why I hadn't died. Someone had bumped into me. So I understood even more clearly now what his faint smile meant. 07 When I arrived at the company, I happened to run into my direct supervisor, Mr. Davis, talking on the phone at the entrance. Seeing my pale, traumatized face, he asked me what was wrong. I tried hard to squeeze out a smile, saying I almost had an accident on the way and was still feeling scared. He immediately asked with concern, "Are you okay?" I shook my head and said I was fine. "That's good," he said, seeming to think for a moment. "Evelyn, how about I give you the day off? You really should go to the hospital and get checked out." I smiled and said it really wasn't necessary, and that he could just waive my tardiness this time. Mr. Davis didn't say anything more. He just waved his hand and let me in. After sitting at my desk for a good while, I finally completely calmed down. But then I suddenly remembered that Mr. Davis didn't even ask what happened to me. So why did he want me to go to the hospital? I felt like I was sitting on pins and needles the whole day. I could be certain that after they discovered my little trick, they were going to take action against me. The incident this morning was a warning. And they were right beside me. When I got home at night, I discovered more things that were wrong. Someone had entered my house. Although they were very careful to put things back exactly as they were, because I have lived alone for a long time, I am habitually very sensitive to every detail. Moreover, in the wastebasket, the paper on which I had previously written down questions had been opened. That crumpled paper was originally in the middle of the trash, but now it was deliberately pressed all the way to the bottom. At this moment, I was incredibly thankful that I hadn't written down my final thoughts. If they had seen it, what would have happened? Would they have just taken me away directly? But what do they plan to do now? Give me a chance to remedy the situation? Then, what should I do? I lay in bed, awake all night. As dawn approached, I made a decision: escape. 08 After sending a message to Mr. Davis asking for annual leave, I immediately bought a ticket for the earliest flight to Denver. Not long after dawn, I had already packed my suitcase and rolled it out the door. The morning rush hour hadn't started yet, and I quickly got a ride-hailing car. The driver was a silent middle-aged man, and the whole ride was quiet. After the car got onto the highway to the airport, I finally felt waves of exhausted sleepiness. Leaning against the window, I tried hard to keep myself from falling asleep. After my head bumped against the window an unknown number of times, I jolted awake. This wasn't the road to the airport! "Sir, are we going the wrong way?" I tried my best to make my tone sound less panicked. The driver glanced at me through the rearview mirror. "That's what the navigation says. There might be road repairs causing a detour." I let out an "oh" and sneaked a peek over. His phone screen was black; the navigation wasn't even turned on. My heart practically leaped into my throat, but I forced myself to pretend to be calm. I knew that telling him to stop now was absolutely impossible. I could only outsmart him. Seeing a coffee shop not far ahead, I told him to stop there for a moment so I could buy a cup of coffee. But the driver didn't answer me; instead, he stepped on the gas. My heart sank. Was it time to drop all pretenses? I felt for my phone; there was no signal, and the car's speed was still increasing. If we kept driving down this highway for much longer, we would leave the city limits, and not far beyond that were mountain roads. I didn't dare think any further. I tightly gripped the handle, my mind racing as I considered where to make a desperate stand against the driver. Just as I made up my mind, there seemed to be a major traffic jam ahead due to an accident. The car slowed down, and, there were police! Like a desperate survivor, I frantically pounded on the window, even intending to open the car door regardless of everything. Thank goodness, the police saw me. A motorcycle with flashing lights made the driver pull over. The moment the car stopped, I opened the door and rushed out, speaking incoherently. "Police! He's trying to kidnap me! Help!" The driver remained silent throughout. Even as he was taken away, he only gave me a deep look. I missed my flight and followed the police to the station to give a statement. After I recounted all the events of the morning from start to finish, the female police officer taking my statement comforted me: "Miss, you're probably just overly frightened. We've already notified your family, and they'll be here soon." I instantly felt something was wrong. Family? My parents are in my hometown, how could they... The door to the reception room opened, and two people walked in quickly, looking anxious. One was Mr. Davis, and the other was Chloe from the HR department. "Evelyn! Are you okay?" Mr. Davis looked full of concern. "You scared us to death! We got a call from the police saying you were in trouble..." Chloe hugged me. "Evelyn, don't be scared, don't be scared, we're here." I looked at them, unable to even force a fake smile. "Mr. Davis, Chloe, why are you..." "In the company files, we are your designated emergency contacts," Mr. Davis said. "The form you filled out when you joined, did you forget?" I really didn't remember. No, I definitely wouldn't have put them as my emergency contacts. In that moment, I realized my previous judgment of them was too naive. The forces behind them were unfathomably deep. The police suggested I go home and rest, and Mr. Davis drove me. Along the way, he and Chloe kept comforting me. As we got closer to my house, he finally asked me tentatively. "You haven't been looking well lately. Do you want to... go see a doctor?" He said he knew a very good psychologist who should be able to solve my problems quickly. I suddenly remembered, this was the second time he had brought up me seeing a doctor. And, it was also immediately following an "accident." "Dr. Lee is really very professional." After the car parked downstairs at my apartment, Mr. Davis turned his head and looked at me with sincere earnestness. "Sometimes, what we see and believe isn't necessarily true. It might be that you're under too much pressure and are experiencing hallucinations. A doctor can help you distinguish between what's real and what's imagination." His words already carried a very obvious implication. It was as if something had suddenly clicked together in my mind. Everything was done by them, after they discovered my actions. The two "accidents" weren't me being lucky, barely surviving each time by a hair's breadth. It was them warning me. So, would I have a third chance? Facing the concerned gazes of Mr. Davis and Chloe, after staring blankly for a few seconds, I nodded. "Then I'll go... give it a try." They both seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Mr. Davis handed me a business card, and Chloe told me not to worry about my leave; she would handle all the arrangements. I thanked them, took my luggage, and got out of the car. After the car drove away, I looked at the business card in my hand. [Dr. Richard Lee] [Center for Cognitive and Perceptual Disorders Treatment] I knew what this meant. They were giving me one last chance. To go see the doctor, receive "treatment," and admit that everything was my "hallucination." Then, I could continue to be a "normal person" in this world. So, should I go?
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