The Book

The soft click of the door signaled her entry, and a gentle voice greeted Lina with a warm, “Welcome.”

It was a routine she had come to cherish.

After her long days of classes, Lina would often stop by the small, cozy bookstore nestled on the corner of her street. It wasn’t especially large or impressive, but that was part of its charm. The shelves were packed tightly together, some slightly uneven from years of use, and handwritten recommendation cards were tucked beneath certain titles. A faint instrumental melody usually played somewhere behind the counter, low enough that it never interrupted the peaceful atmosphere.

Living alone in her quiet apartment, the stillness sometimes felt overwhelming. There were evenings when she would return home, drop her bag beside the door, and realize that the only sounds waiting for her were the hum of the refrigerator and the occasional noise from the street outside.

Books had gradually become her constant companions.

They filled the silence with stories, characters, arguments, laughter, heartbreak, and distant worlds she could disappear into whenever reality became too monotonous. She found comfort in the familiar scent of paper and ink, the warm amber lighting of the shop, and the soft murmur of turning pages as other visitors quietly browsed nearby.

Today was no different.

Lina walked slowly through the aisles, her backpack hanging from one shoulder as her fingers lightly brushed against the spines of various books. She wasn’t looking for anything in particular. She rarely was.

Sometimes she came in with a title already in mind, but most days she simply wandered until something caught her attention.

A colorful cover.

An unusual title.

A strange summary.

Anything that looked interesting enough to keep her company for a few evenings.

After several minutes, she stopped.

One particular book had caught her eye.

The Success of Xiao Hua.

Lina tilted her head slightly.

The cover was simple but striking, with a delicate illustration of a young woman standing at the edge of a forest. There was nothing overly dramatic about it, yet something about the image made her reach for the book.

She pulled it from the shelf and turned it over in her hands.

The summary on the back piqued her interest, promising a tale of resilience and personal growth centered around a young woman named Xiao Hua, someone determined to overcome every obstacle placed in her path.

Lina hummed thoughtfully.

“Not bad.”

She flipped through the first few pages before closing it again.

It seemed like exactly the kind of story she could read before going to bed.

With the book tucked beneath her arm, Lina made her way toward the counter, where the elderly man who owned the shop stood behind the register.

He was a familiar face, one she had grown accustomed to seeing during her many visits. His hair was almost entirely gray, and he always wore the same kind expression, as though every person who walked into his bookstore was an old friend rather than a customer.

“Sir, is this a new release?” Lina asked, holding the book up for him to see.

The old man adjusted his glasses and glanced at the cover.

Then his face immediately brightened.

“Yes, it just came out.” His smile became noticeably warmer. “My daughter wrote it, actually. She loves stories like this.”

Lina’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Really? Your daughter wrote this?”

She looked down at the book again, suddenly examining it with renewed interest.

“That’s amazing!”

The old man chuckled softly.

His pride was obvious.

“She’s been working on it for quite a while.”

“That makes me want to read it even more.”

Lina turned the book over once again, studying the title.

Writing an entire novel seemed almost impossible to her. She could barely survive the essays her professors assigned without complaining.

The old man watched her for a moment before tapping the counter lightly.

“You’ve been a regular here for quite some time,” he said. “Always buying books.”

Lina smiled sheepishly.

“Probably too many.”

“There is no such thing.”

She laughed.

The old man reached toward the book.

“How about I give this one to you as a gift?”

Lina blinked.

“What?”

Before he could do anything else, she quickly shook her head and waved both hands in protest.

“Oh, no. There’s no need for that. I can’t possibly accept it for free.”

“Nonsense.”

“But—”

The old man was already wrapping the book neatly in thin decorative paper.

Lina stared at him helplessly.

“Sir, really, I can pay for it.”

He ignored her protest completely.

Within moments, the book was wrapped and placed back into her hands.

“Consider it a thank-you for always supporting my store.”

Lina opened her mouth to argue again.

The old man simply smiled and gave her a small wink.

“Please, enjoy it. And come back anytime.”

There was clearly no winning this argument.

Flustered but genuinely touched by his generosity, Lina held the wrapped book against her chest.

“Thank you. Really.”

“You’re very welcome.”

“I’ll definitely tell you what I think after I finish it.”

“I’m sure my daughter would appreciate that.”

Lina thanked him once more before leaving the shop.

The little bell above the entrance chimed behind her as she stepped onto the sidewalk, the book now clutched tightly in her hands.

She walked home with a small smile on her face.

It was such a simple gesture, but somehow it made the exhaustion from the day feel a little lighter.

Later that evening, after eating a simple dinner and taking a long shower to wash away the fatigue of the day, Lina found herself lying in bed.

Her hair was still slightly damp, spread across her pillow.

She had already checked her phone several times.

Nothing interesting.

She tried closing her eyes.

Nothing.

She shifted onto one side.

Then the other.

Sleep remained stubbornly out of reach.

Her mind kept wandering, jumping from assignments she needed to finish to things she had forgotten to buy to random conversations from earlier that day.

After several minutes, Lina opened her eyes again.

Her gaze drifted toward the nightstand.

The newly gifted book rested there, still wrapped in its delicate packaging.

Lina stared at it.

Then at the ceiling.

Then back at the book.

“Well... I’m obviously not sleeping anytime soon.”

She reached over and picked it up.

The wrapping came away with a soft rustle.

She settled deeper beneath her blankets, switched on the bedside lamp, and opened the book to the first page.

The story immediately pulled her in.

Xiao Hua was a young woman struggling against the odds, determined to carve out her own path whatever the cost. Her life wasn’t easy, but she was stubborn, intelligent, and unwilling to let anyone decide her future for her.

Lina found herself becoming increasingly invested.

Another chapter passed.

Then another.

Before long, she had completely lost track of time.

Then something made her stop.

A character appeared in the story.

Her name was Lina.

Lina stared at the page.

“Huh.”

She read the sentence again.

Definitely Lina.

At first, she found it amusing.

It was hardly an uncommon coincidence. Authors reused names all the time.

Still, seeing her own name printed inside the book made her smile.

“That’s weird.”

She continued reading.

The smile gradually disappeared.

This Lina wasn’t exactly... impressive.

She came from an extremely privileged adoptive family and seemed to have every opportunity imaginable placed directly in front of her.

And somehow, she kept ruining all of them.

She trusted the wrong people.

Started unnecessary arguments.

Acted impulsively.

Refused to listen to warnings.

Made decisions that seemed almost deliberately designed to make her own situation worse.

At first, the real Lina simply frowned.

Then she started becoming annoyed.

Then genuinely frustrated.

“She has everything going for her, but she keeps messing it up.”

She turned another page.

The fictional Lina made another terrible decision.

The real Lina stared at the book in disbelief.

“Why would you do that?”

Another page.

Another disaster.

Lina sighed.

“I would never be that reckless.”

She knew it was ridiculous to argue with a fictional character.

That did not stop her.

Page after page, she watched her namesake’s life unravel.

Relationships deteriorated.

Her reputation became worse.

Her adoptive family gradually lost patience with her.

Every time there seemed to be a chance for the character to fix things, she somehow managed to make the situation even worse.

Eventually, Lina was reading less out of enjoyment and more because she desperately needed to know whether this girl would finally make one sensible decision.

She didn’t.

In a cruel twist of fate, the character Lina was ultimately cast aside by her adoptive family.

And not long afterward, she tragically died in a car accident.

Lina stared at the final paragraph describing her death.

For several seconds, she said nothing.

Then she slowly closed the book.

“I saw that ending coming from a mile away.”

She dropped her head back against the pillow.

What a waste.

The girl had been given so many chances.

So many opportunities.

And somehow she had managed to destroy everything.

Lina glanced at the cover again, disappointed with how things had turned out for the character.

“I definitely would’ve done things differently.”

With a tired sigh, she placed the book on her nightstand.

Enough reading for one night.

She switched off her bedside lamp and snuggled deeper beneath her blankets, determined to finally get some rest.

Darkness settled around the room.

Outside, distant traffic occasionally passed beneath her window.

Within minutes, Lina’s breathing gradually slowed.

But her sleep that night was restless.

She dreamed of places she had never seen.

Faces she didn’t recognize.

Voices calling her name.

A house that somehow felt familiar even though she had never stepped inside it.

At one point, she thought she heard someone say something directly beside her ear.

She couldn’t understand the words.

Then everything disappeared.

When morning came, Lina awoke feeling unusually refreshed.

For a few moments, she didn’t move.

Her eyes remained closed as she enjoyed the strange sense of comfort surrounding her.

The mattress beneath her felt unbelievably soft.

The pillow was cool beneath her cheek.

Warm sunlight touched one side of her face.

Lina smiled faintly.

“I haven’t felt this good in a long time,” she mused to herself.

Maybe she had finally gotten a proper night’s sleep.

She shifted slightly beneath the blankets.

Then paused.

Her fingers moved against the sheets.

Lina frowned.

Something felt strange.

This bed... it doesn’t feel like mine.

Her eyes shot open.

For one second, her mind went completely blank.

Then panic rushed through her.

The room around her was completely unfamiliar.

Luxurious.

Elegant.

But definitely not hers.

Large windows allowed soft morning sunlight to pour inside, illuminating an enormous bedroom decorated in a sophisticated modern style. Thick curtains framed the windows, while expensive furniture filled the space without making it feel crowded. A sleek television was mounted on one wall, and across the room stood a large wardrobe beside a polished vanity.

Everything looked immaculate.

Everything looked expensive.

And absolutely none of it belonged to her.

Lina slowly sat up.

“What...?”

Her heart began pounding.

She looked toward the bedside table.

No familiar phone.

No half-empty glass of water.

No stack of notebooks from college.

Nothing.

“Where am I?” she whispered.