On my 18th birthday, I received several mysterious text messages on my phone. The sender claimed to be me from ten years in the future. “This is not a prank,” one message read. “Go to the Computer Science department and find Liam Blackwood,” another instructed. “He may seem reserved and cold now, but in the years to come, he will be the one who loves you most in this world.” “Save him. Promise me you won’t let him die for you this time.” My name is Aria Winters, and I’m a freshman in college. I just celebrated my 18th birthday last week. It was probably the most surreal birthday I’ve ever had. On my birthday, my dad gave me a new phone. That night, after showering, I lay in bed, transferring the SIM card from my old phone to the new one and downloading some commonly used apps. As I was fiddling with those apps, my phone suddenly notified me of a new message. I glanced at it casually – it was a random sentence that said, “Go to the Computer Science department and find Liam Blackwood.” I had never even heard of Liam Blackwood. It must have been sent to the wrong person. I ignored it, but soon another message came through: “Hurry, you must find him before Christmas, or it will be too late!” The sender seemed so urgent, it might be something important. Out of kindness, I opened the message thread and replied, “I think you’ve got the wrong person.” The response came immediately: “No, I’m looking for you, Aria Winters.” I found this bizarre, so I checked the sender’s phone number. What I saw made my blood run cold, and I threw my phone away in shock. The sender of these messages had the same phone number as mine. Imagine this: it’s exactly midnight, and I’m texting… myself. Was this a malicious prank or a ghostly midnight message? I took a few deep breaths, mustered up my courage, picked up the phone, and with trembling fingers, typed: “Who are you?” Until dawn, there was no reply from the other end. I had almost forgotten about this incident, but tonight I stayed up late preparing for a club officer interview the next day. As soon as the clock struck midnight, my phone automatically popped up a message, still the same – “Go to the Computer Science department and find Liam Blackwood.” This was the second time. I wanted to get to the bottom of this. “Who are you? Is this a prank?” I asked. The reply I got was mind-boggling: “I am you, Aria from ten years in the future.” Are they kidding me? This is ridiculous. I reminded them: “April Fools’ Day was six months ago.” “I’m not lying to you. If you don’t believe me, I can prove it. On your end, it’s 2020, and you currently have a crush on Connor Sullivan, right?” My head buzzed. Connor Sullivan was a guy in our club, a year older than me. He was quite handsome, known as the gentle senior among the students. He had been particularly caring towards me, and I did have some feelings for him, but I had never told anyone about it. How did she know? As if knowing my thoughts, the other person said, “Don’t doubt it, I just know because I am you from ten years in the future.” A sudden thought struck me, and I asked her, “So, am I with Connor Sullivan ten years from now?” This time, the other side was silent for a moment. “Yes, you’re married.” Before I could feel embarrassed for a few seconds, my phone started buzzing with messages as if it was possessed: “But he has a small dick, he’s terrible in bed, and he’s a super mega scumbag. If you end up with him, he’ll spend your money, sleep with your friends, and even try to kill you!” I was dumbfounded. After digesting her information, I couldn’t help but feel devastated. What? Is my future really that miserable? Perhaps realizing the topic had gone off track, she quickly brought it back: “There’s no time left. Listen to me, you must go to the Computer Science department and find Liam Blackwood.” “Although he seems introverted and cold now, in the years to come, he will be the one who loves you most in this world.” “Promise me, save him. Don’t let him die for you this time.” I asked her who Liam Blackwood was, which class he was in, why she said he died for me, what happened, but the messages I sent seemed to sink into a bottomless sea. I looked at the time – well, it was 12:05 AM. It seemed to be the same time last time. It appears that this cross-time communication between us has a specific time limit. The next day, I dragged my tired body to the 8 AM class. It was the Department Head’s course, and everyone had fixed seats. You could tell at a glance who was late or absent. As soon as I entered the classroom, I noticed extra breakfast on my desk – soy milk, small wontons, and even a chocolate muffin. I asked my roommate, who had arrived just before me, “Who brought this?” She said, “I don’t know, it was already there when I came.” She lowered her voice and grinned at me, “Honestly, Aria, was it Connor Sullivan? I saw him buy you bubble tea before. Not bad, huh? You just posted on social media last night that you wanted to eat a chocolate muffin, and today he bought it for you. He must like you, right?” The chocolate muffin was only sold at a trendy store three miles from campus, and that store was so popular that you had to be quick to get their hot new products. If it were any other time, I would have been touched and given Connor some bonus points in my heart. However, because of last night’s text messages, now when I heard Connor Sullivan’s name, I couldn’t help but think of that sentence – “he has a small dick, he’s terrible in bed.” Help. Connor Sullivan’s image in my mind crumbled by half. Facing my roommate’s suggestive gaze, I quickly denied it: “No, we’re not in any kind of relationship.” At 3 PM, I attended the club officer interview on time. The interview went smoothly, and afterwards, Connor came to congratulate me and asked if I wanted to go watch a movie with him that evening. In the past, I might have happily agreed, but today, as soon as he came close, that phrase “small dick, terrible in bed” kept flashing in my mind. Heaven knows how much willpower it took to keep my gaze from drifting downwards. Connor took another step towards me: “I’ve already bought the tickets. It’s a mystery film, the kind you like.” I declined politely, maintaining a calm expression: “I have something to do today, sorry, Connor.” “Alright,” he looked a bit disappointed, “we’ll plan for next time then.” I breathed a sigh of relief, then remembered something. Liam Blackwood was also in the Computer Science department, right? Maybe Connor had heard of him. With a try-and-see attitude, I asked him about Liam Blackwood. He did know him: “He’s in Class 1, the most famous among this year’s freshmen. Why? Do you know him?” I shook my head and made up an excuse: “A friend of mine likes him.” “Aria, you should tell your friend to give up on that idea,” Connor’s expression turned serious. “Why? Does he have a girlfriend?” “No,” Connor frowned, “I heard he’s sick. Mental illness.” I heard some rumors about Liam Blackwood from Connor. Apparently, when he first entered college, he became quite popular due to his good looks and aloof attitude towards people. Connor’s position as the most popular guy in the department was almost threatened. But later, someone dug up his family history and posted it on the school forum. People’s attitudes towards him changed 180 degrees overnight. The reason was simple: he had a mentally ill father who was a murderer. When it happened, Liam was only five years old. He witnessed his frenzied father kill his mother with a knife, then walk towards him step by step. Fortunately, before the knife fell, his father came to his senses, but realizing what he had done, the tremendous fear and guilt made him drop the knife and flee. In the end, it was a neighbor returning from work who discovered something was wrong, opened the door to find a murder had occurred next door, and shakily called the police. When the police arrived, the body was lying in a pool of blood, already cold. The five-year-old boy was curled up in a corner, his body trembling uncontrollably, his gaze blank. After that, Liam’s father remained missing. The police couldn’t find his whereabouts. Liam only had a distant relative, but that family considered him a burden and sent him to an orphanage. The person who posted on the forum described it vividly, claiming to be Liam’s high school classmate who had personally witnessed Liam go berserk, pinning a much taller senior against the wall and beating him. The reason seemed to be that the senior had made a joke about Liam’s parents. Everyone said that his reckless, life-risking craziness must have been inherited from his father, and so rumors of Liam having a mental illness spread throughout their Computer Science department. I read all the posts about Liam on the forum. Far from being scared, I felt a bit sorry for him. … I must have been influenced by the text messages from these past few days. There was a photo of Liam on the forum, a candid shot taken by someone. In the photo, he was glaring at the camera, his eyes wild and cold. I stared at that photo again and again, conflicted all night, and decided to go find Liam and see the situation for myself. Finding Liam wasn’t difficult at all. I didn’t even need to ask anyone. Standing outside their classroom window and looking in, I could spot him at a glance among the sea of people. His aura was unique. At this age, college students often like to wear a few branded items, each one full of youthful energy. Liam was different. He sat alone in the last row, wearing the simplest white t-shirt, with black hair and black eyes, like a stagnant pool untouched by sunlight, out of place in this world. I compared this face with the photo on the forum and could confirm it was him. Perhaps my gaze was too intense, he suddenly looked in my direction. Our eyes met, his gaze sharp. Caught peeking, my heart skipped a beat, and under the influence of guilt, I reflexively crouched down, hiding under the window. Only after crouching did I realize how strange this looked. I wasn’t a peeping tom, why was I feeling guilty? As the bell rang, people poured out of the classroom. I stood on tiptoe looking for Liam. As expected, he was walking at the back of the crowd, carrying a shoulder bag, his expression quiet and indifferent. Because of the rumors, everyone’s attitude towards him was both wary and fearful. While others were in groups of three or five, there was no one around him. The sense of loneliness was palpable. I couldn’t help but call out to him: “Hey!” I ran up to him, took out my phone, “You’re Liam Blackwood, right? Hi, I’m Aria Winters from the Design department. Can I add you on SnapChat?” This was the first time in my life I had ever approached a boy on my own. While I was feeling nervous, Liam stopped and looked at me. I couldn’t tell if it was surprise or expectation in his voice: “You know me?” His voice was quite pleasant, very clean. To not seem too abrupt, I answered honestly: “I didn’t know you before, but I want to know you now. Is that okay?” Liam didn’t seem satisfied with my answer. He said, “No, it’s not.” Those eyes returned to their previous emotionless state, as if the expectation I saw in them earlier was just my imagination. He strode past me. I called his name, only to receive a cold response: “Don’t follow me.” Hello?? Don’t you know this is how you lose me? At midnight, the message from the future arrived on my phone right on time. It was still that same, unshakeable, almost like a death warrant: “Quickly go to the Computer Science department and find Liam Blackwood.” Thinking of what happened during the day, I replied with a depressed mood: “I went today. Are you sure you didn’t make a mistake? I feel like he doesn’t like me at all. He doesn’t even seem to know me.” In my depression, I also felt a bit wronged. I didn’t know where this sense of grievance came from. Was it because I had enthusiastically approached someone only to be coldly rejected? Or was it because it was Liam? That glance he gave me through the glass today left a deep impression. I think I might have… fallen for him at first sight. It took a full two minutes before a message came from the other side. “No mistake. I’ve read his diary. He carried out a secret love throughout his student years, but neither you nor I knew about his feelings.” A secret love that lasted throughout his student years. I searched through my memories but really couldn’t remember anyone named Liam Blackwood. I asked, “When exactly did Liam start liking me?” Surprisingly, my future self replied: “I don’t know either.” “His love… was too silent. I never noticed it.” “Anyway, you must be wary of Connor Sullivan. He’s a complete scumbag, guilty of both financial fraud and attempted murder. If it weren’t for Liam, Connor would have succeeded. My life was exchanged for Liam’s. That’s why I want to save him. I want him to live.” I promised my 28-year-old self that I would save Liam, and for this, I even made a comprehensive plan. First, of course, was to stay away from Connor Sullivan. My fondness for Connor came from his usual care for me, but I’m not stupid. Once I learned he was a scumbag, I would have bought a train ticket and fled overnight. Next was to find a way to get close to Liam. I got hold of their department’s class schedule from the school’s confession wall. On a morning when I didn’t have class, I walked into their classroom with two breakfast sets, brazenly sat down next to Liam. Liam seemed very uncomfortable with my arrival. From the moment I sat down, he curled up like a little hedgehog, his voice hard and cold: “What are you doing here?” He was quite cute like this. Writing about his secret love for me in his diary, but in reality, for some reason, he seemed to deliberately avoid me. It was a bit like those people online who say one thing but mean another. I handed him the bun and soy milk I had brought: “I brought you breakfast.” He clenched his jaw, stared at me for a while, then pushed it away: “I don’t want it.” But the way he looked at me just now clearly showed he wanted to accept it. What a contradictory person. I admit I had my own agenda. My 28-year-old self only said to save Liam’s life, to let him live. But knowing this, my 18-year-old self wanted to date him. We pushed and pulled over the breakfast several times, attracting the attention of classmates in front of us who couldn’t help but turn around to look. Their faces couldn’t hide their shock, as if surprised that someone would actually sit next to Liam and talk to him. As the bell for class rang, I simply grabbed Liam’s hand, put the breakfast in it, and softened my voice to say quietly: “Come on, skipping breakfast is bad for your health. I brought this specially for you. Just take it, okay?” I’m quite good at acting coy. Sure enough, Liam froze when I held his hand, reacting as if he had been electrocuted. This time he didn’t refuse, but he put the breakfast at the corner of his desk, seemingly with no intention of eating it. I sighed internally, thinking there would be more opportunities in the future. However, I had only come three times before Liam grabbed my arm and cornered me in the hallway. If I had to describe it, he was like a small beast whose territory had been invaded, bristling with all his spines to warn me: “What exactly do you want to do?” If it were someone else interrogating me like this, I would have been scared away long ago. But it was Liam, those dark eyes staring intently at me, beneath the surface of annoyance was an almost undisguisable confusion and fear. I didn’t understand, but I felt sorry for him, so my mouth moved faster than my brain: “I just kind of like you. Can’t you like me back a little?” Liam let go of my hand. The next second, he suddenly smiled. This was the first time I had seen him smile. It was very attractive, making me dizzy. If I liked Liam five points before, from this second on, I can guarantee this liking had shot up to seven points.
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