Parasitic Spirit
I am a parasitic spirit, lying dormant within different hosts.
Sometimes an angel, sometimes a demon.
1
Before that day, I never imagined such a thing could happen.
It was too bizarre, too incredible!
Christine was the happiest woman I'd ever met, because she'd married a wonderful husband. Throughout their marriage, he'd always cherished and doted on her. Whenever they went out together, they walked hand in hand, so affectionate they might as well have been newlyweds.
Every time I saw them, I was eaten up with envy.
I wasn't as lucky. I'd married a scumbag. Not only was he a drunkard and a gambler, he was also violently abusive.
It was no exaggeration to say the bruises and scars on my body never fully healed before new ones appeared. He was cunning about it too—he always hit me where others couldn't see, leaving me battered but with no way to cry for justice.
I ran a dry-cleaning shop. Christine often brought her clothes in for cleaning. One day, on an impulse, I tried on one of her outfits, imagining what it might feel like to be a woman as happy as she was...
And then the most extraordinary thing happened—I looked in the mirror and saw that I'd transformed into her!
I couldn't believe my eyes. I rubbed them hard.
It was true—I really had become her! Rosy cheeks, smiling lips, radiating contentment from head to toe...
2
Panicked, I tore off the clothes, and when I looked in the mirror again, I was back to my old self—the same pale face, the same vacant eyes.
How was that possible? Was it the clothes? I gathered my courage and put the outfit on again. Sure enough, I transformed back into Christine.
It was the clothes—they were the key!
What about other people's clothes? Would they work too?
Driven by curiosity, I picked up another customer's garment...
The person staring back at me from the mirror was a man!
That day, I tried on every piece of clothing in the shop. Without exception, each one transformed me into its owner...
I'd once seen a fantasy film called The Cobbler. A shoe repair man, by some twist of fate, gained a magical power—whenever he put on someone else's shoes, he'd transform into that person and experience their life...
I never imagined I'd acquire that same kind of magic.
3
From then on, I began this fascinating game. Men and women, rich and poor—each transformation opened up a new world to me...
I was like a parasitic spirit, inhabiting one body after another, looking down upon the mortal realm, mocking the teeming masses!
There was a wealthy woman who always acted high and mighty, claiming that all her clothes were international luxury brands and that if I ruined them, I couldn't afford to pay for them even if I sold myself.
I could only smile and nod meekly. You didn't offend big clients like her—my daughter Bella's tuition depended on them.
One day she came in with more laundry while I was eating lunch. When she saw my bowl of spicy noodles, she shrieked as if stung by a wasp: "My God, you're eating that stuff? Won't my beautiful clothes reek?"
I hastily explained that all cleaned clothes were sealed in bags and wouldn't be affected... and I knocked a few dollars off her bill to placate her.
After she left, I stewed in resentment. Getting yelled at for eating noodles—was there any life more humiliating? When I picked up her clothes, a wicked thought suddenly crossed my mind...
So I put on her outfit and went out.
4
Not long after, a story went viral online: a wealthy socialite, wearing a coat worth tens of thousands, had been caught shoplifting at a supermarket. And what she'd stolen was nothing but a jar of stinky tofu worth a few bucks...
When the security guard caught her, she kept denying it—until they found the stinky tofu in her designer handbag.
Someone filmed the scene and uploaded it. The socialite's identity was quickly exposed, and she became a laughingstock...
She'd been minding her own business when disaster fell from the sky. She must have been baffled—how on earth had she become a shoplifter?
When she came to collect her clothes, she was a shadow of her former self. She'd wrapped a silk scarf around her face and wore oversized sunglasses, hiding herself like a mummy—clearly terrified of being recognized.
I had to bite my lip to keep from laughing. When I handed over her clothes, I noticed two scratch marks on the back of her hand. I looked more closely and froze...
I'd accidentally scratched my hand during the confrontation with the security guard, and the scratches on her hand were identical to mine. Wait—could injuries transfer like that too?
Noticing me staring, the woman self-consciously pulled her hand back. "What are you looking at? Haven't you got hands of your own?" She paused, then demanded, "Have you been lending my clothes to anyone else?"
"Customer belongings—I'd never dare touch them," I denied flatly.
She hesitated for a moment, then left.
Clearly, she suspected someone was impersonating her. But the scratches on her hand made her dismiss the idea... after all, they were on her own body.
She'd done something she couldn't remember doing—she probably thought she was losing her mind.
Served her right! After this experience, let's see if she'd dare be so arrogant again!
5
Another time, I used this method to teach someone else a lesson.
There was a famous philanthropist who was constantly doing charity work in public, yet completely ignored his aging mother. She was his adoptive mother—the woman who'd raised him by collecting recyclables. Once he became successful, he grew ashamed of her, handed her a lump sum of money, and severed all ties.
His mother grew increasingly frail and lived in terrible conditions. When she got sick, there was no one to care for her—she just suffered alone at home...
I couldn't just stand by. I wanted to do something for her.
This philanthropist was a regular at my shop. One day when he came to pick up his clothes, I offered him a cup of coffee laced with a sedative. He drank it and quickly fell asleep. Then I put on his clothes, drove his car to a charity gala that evening.
At the gala, "I" confessed to abandoning my adoptive mother and vowed to mend my ways and take proper care of her...
Afterward, I drove back, changed out of his clothes, and dumped him in his car on some random street.
When he woke up and learned what had happened, he must have thought he'd had an out-of-body experience!
Under public pressure, he had no choice but to treat his adoptive mother well. That poor old woman finally got the care she deserved...
As the car drove her away, I felt genuine happiness for her.
I decided I would use my gift to help more people who needed it...
6
One day, Christine came in again.
Christine's other role was Bella's elementary school teacher. She gently reminded me again to pay more attention to Bella, who always seemed weighed down by worries far beyond her years.
I knew why Bella was like that.
My husband, Ray, had a ferocious temper. Toward both me and our daughter, it was either hitting or yelling. Living under that constant pressure had taken its toll on Bella's body and mind...
But I was powerless.
I'd tried to ask for a divorce. Ray flat-out refused, and threatened that if I ever tried to leave, he'd take all of us down with him!
When he said that, his eyes burned red like a maddened beast ready to devour.
I backed down.
Even if I wasn't afraid of death, I had to think of my daughter.
7
Before I married Ray, I'd had someone I loved. His name was Howard—gentle, cultured, educated. Just as we were talking about marriage, something terrible happened. Something that changed the entire course of my life...
One night, I was dragged into the bushes and raped. When word got out, my reputation was destroyed. Rather than drag Howard down, I broke off our engagement.
Later, Ray the plumber appeared. He said he didn't mind my past and wanted to take care of me forever. In my desperation, I settled for him. And my life slid into an even darker abyss...
After we married, Ray changed his tune completely. He wielded that traumatic incident as a weapon against me. Whenever I upset him, he'd drag it out to berate me. Through his twisted retelling, I became a shameless woman who'd seduced men on purpose...
He claimed that marrying me was the worst luck of his life, and he channeled all his resentment into his fists... He even extended his rage to our daughter, beating her alongside me.
How to describe my marriage? It was like falling into a terrifying swamp—unable to pull myself out, with no one coming to rescue me, just sinking helplessly into despair...
I deeply regretted ever bringing my daughter into this world. Otherwise, I could have simply ended it all.
8
Spring Garden was the apartment complex where Howard now lived.