The Price of a New Name

“Yue’an, must you depart so swiftly? Why not linger a few more days with us?”

Two days drifted by in a blur, and soon Qi Yue’an had her luggage packed, ready to bid her parents farewell at their doorstep.

“Indeed, the break is brief, and the ‘work’ I am embarking upon requires an internship, so I may not return for quite some time.”

Gazing at her parents, Qi Yue’an offered a soft farewell, then, pulling her suitcase behind her, she set off on her journey.

Time, an unstoppable force, marched onward. With Qi An’s funeral rites now concluded, ‘Qi Yue’an’ could at last bid farewell to the vestiges of her past, embarking upon a long and arduous journey.

Qi Yue’an’s mind drifted back to ‘her’ figure. In that final moment, as their hands intertwined, ‘she’ had entirely entrusted her name and very being to Qi Yue’an.

Yet, ‘she’ had not bestowed upon Qi Yue’an all her memories; only scenes from childhood up to the cusp of university life had been shown, the subsequent years deliberately concealed.

‘But… should our paths cross again, how then should I address her?’

This query vexed her. The other self no longer seemed inclined to be called Qi An, asserting that the name Qi Yue’an now belonged solely to *her*; indeed, that ‘campus belle’ persona had no desire to reclaim it.

‘Perhaps I should call her Qi Yue from now on?’

As someone utterly devoid of naming talent, Qi Yue’an conceived this appellation. In their past, they had relentlessly pursued the objective of “An” (peace), striving for their incongruous self to find solace in becoming truly human.

Yet now, a new life had begun. She had embraced every past experience and memory, and accepted the name ‘Qi Yue’an’. All suffering and responsibility, she would shoulder. Thus, that idealized personality would no longer need to perpetually exist within the karmic burden of ‘Qi An’ and ‘Qi Yue’an’, but could finally emerge as a truly independent individual.

‘Sigh… even I find that a bit of a mouthful.’

The train finally pulled into the station, bringing her back to the familiar city. However, upon instinctively taking a taxi to the doorstep of her old rental, she noticed the ‘for rent’ sign still prominently displayed.

Glancing around to confirm she was unobserved, Qi Yue’an furtively unlocked the door with her personal key. Inside, the food, water dispenser, and bedding she had left behind were all mysteriously gone. A wave of dejection washed over her as she quietly shut the door and departed, only to encounter her former landlord while descending the stairs.

“Oh, my, don’t you look remarkably familiar?”

“Do I?”

The woman nodded, adjusted her bifocals, then slowly shook her head.

“My apologies, I must be mistaken. You resemble a former tenant of mine. He seemed… hm? What *did* happen to him, I wonder? In any case, I haven’t seen him since.”

She waved a dismissive hand, smoothed her wild, greying hair, and walked past Qi Yue’an.

“At any rate, if you’re interested in the place… I can offer it to you at a reduced rate. After all, something rather unfortunate transpired here.”

Qi Yue’an found herself thoroughly confused by these remarks. She then proceeded to the apartment ‘Qi Yue’an’ shared with her best friend. Lacking a key, she could only knock, and the sound prompted someone inside to emerge.

The person who appeared seemed somewhat fragile, with faint scars on her arm, their origin—whether self-inflicted or otherwise—unclear. From ‘Qi Yue’an’s’ hazy recollections, she knew this individual had led a rather tragic life, yet had been rescued by the original occupant of this identity.

“Who are you?”

The first words uttered upon opening the door were a query about her own identity, leaving Qi Yue’an utterly bewildered.

“I’m Qi Yue’an, of course. Xiao Ru, have you forgotten me?”

Her words acted like a switch. The other person froze for a brief instant, then immediately rushed forward with fervent enthusiasm, her previous confusion and wariness vanishing as if they had been mere phantoms.

“Yueyue, you’re finally back! Look, I’ve prepared dinner for you.”

She gestured towards the utterly bare table, then gently tugged Qi Yue’an closer. Just as Qi Yue’an was about to speak, a veritable feast, modest in appearance but clearly prepared with immense effort, materialized on the table as if the very fabric of reality had momentarily fractured.

Qi Yue’an stood rooted to the spot, her thoughts racing. During the previous seven days, her identity had existed in a Schrödinger’s cat-like superposition due to causal conflicts. Yet now, she had fully transformed, so why did this bizarre reality persist?

Mechanically, she glanced at her phone. Messages, which for some unknown reason had ceased since the day she accepted this new name, suddenly flooded in. Though they had only just materialized on her screen, their timestamps indicated they were from days prior.

“Hm, Yueyue, what’s amiss? Is something troubling you?”

Xiao Ru gazed at her with profound concern, a worry so genuine it suggested a remarkably deep bond between them.

No, it wasn’t ‘as if’. Within ‘Qi Yue’an’s’ memories, this person was indeed her closest confidante. Yet, having merely reviewed these recollections like a film reel in her mind, she felt an unsettling, almost absurd sense of detachment from the heartwarming scene unfolding before her.

“No, I’m perfectly fine. You should rest well after dinner…”

Feigning a look of deep concern, she promptly excused herself from the apartment after finishing her meal.

Subsequently, she visited several other locations, only to find a peculiar disorientation afflicting everyone, whether they remembered ‘Qi An’ or ‘Qi Yue’an’. A gentle reminder would instantly jog their memory, yet if left uncontacted for a brief period, they would once again fall into confusion.

The social connections of the ‘deceased’ Qi An and the exemplary Qi Yue’an behaved much like game NPCs; unless a specific plot point was triggered, they would merely idle, akin to dormant computer programs.

It was as though she had abruptly fallen into a desolate, Truman Show-esque world, where everyone was merely a fabricated actor. All she could do was either portray the ‘protagonist’ using her fragmented memories or compel others to recall some negligible, departed spirit.

‘Is this, then, the price?’

Such were Qi Yue’an’s thoughts, yet her spirits, contrary to expectation, did not collapse.

On that fateful day, Qi Yue had whispered to her that even if she acted on impulse, even if she forsook something, she was free to seek out what truly belonged to her.

She no longer needed to play the ‘protagonist’, nor become the departed ‘spirit’; she simply had to heed her heart and be true to herself.

Thus, no matter how burdensome this price, it had nonetheless bought her the most precious ‘new beginning’. Now, existing in the world, was the brand-new, utterly unique ‘Magical Girl Qi Yue’an’.

Taking a deep, fortifying breath, she knocked upon the final door.

The door swung open.

A familiar figure stood in the doorway. Xiyin remained unchanged, her light blue hair cascading casually, her signature headphones resting around her neck.

Her gaze fell upon Qi Yue’an standing outside the door, and a faint flicker of surprise crossed her placid features before the corners of her lips naturally curved into a soft, yet unmistakably genuine, smile.

“An’an, have you finally returned from your family visit?”

Her voice, gentle and warm, carried a hint of concern so subtle it was almost imperceptible.

It was that single utterance of ‘An’an,’ that effortlessly familiar endearment, that caused Qi Yue’an’s taut nerves to abruptly slacken. It felt as though she had returned from beyond the very confines of the world, and an ineffable pang of emotion welled up, stinging her nasal passages.

She was not the ‘Qi Yue’an’ who required reminders to be recalled, nor the ‘Qi An’ who had already departed and was swiftly fading from the world’s memory. In Xiyin’s eyes, she was a distinct, vibrant presence.

The past few days had been overwhelming. She had personally interred her former self, returning under a nearly flawless new identity, only to discover she had seemingly stumbled into a vast, illusory theater. There she stood, alone in the spotlight, a clumsy, overambitious actor, utterly adrift.

The very moment she pushed open that door, the instant her eyes met Xiyin’s and her voice reached her ears, all her disquiet and apprehension were miraculously supplanted by an ineffable sense of profound tranquility.

Xiyin remained utterly unaffected. The person she recognized was neither the deceased boy, Qi An, nor the campus belle, Qi Yue’an, whose perfect social graces had only served to make Qi Yue’an feel estranged.

The individual Xiyin knew had always been the companion encountered on the rain-swept bridge, the one she fought alongside, who clumsily sought advice on tying hair, and with whom she had forged the vow to ‘press onward, even amidst uncertainty.’

Once more, Qi Yue’an found herself profoundly grateful for her choice—the choice to live, rather than to flee once again.

“Xi…”

Qi Yue’an’s voice was thick with emotion. She struggled to force a smile, one imbued with exhaustion and a touch of injustice, but overwhelmingly, it conveyed the profound relief of a survivor, akin to a child reunited with a beloved family member.

“I… I’m home.”

“Eh?!”

Xiyin found herself embraced without warning, leaving her momentarily flustered, her hands hovering uncertainly.

A rare moment of discomposure flickered across her face, yet upon noticing the dampness spreading across her chest and the subtle trembling emanating from the embrace, she gently patted Qi Yue’an’s back.

“Mhm, welcome back.”

Her voice remained soft, and a touch of tender affection blossomed in her eyes.

“So… there’s no need to be afraid anymore…”