In this second life, I didn’t accept my so-called best friend’s invitation.
Instead, I scarfed down a box of egg yolk pies and hit the highway in the middle of the night.
When traffic police blocked the road, I blew hard into the breathalyzer without hesitation—grinning as I climbed into the back of the police car.
In my previous life, my best friend invited me to visit a famous antique collector. While I was distracted, he secretly slipped a jade ornament into his pocket.
Later, the police found the stolen item on me. I knelt and begged the collector to testify on my behalf.
But he only yanked my sleeve and, together with my so-called friend, pointed at me and claimed I was the thief.
My parents drained their savings to try and clear my name. My fiancée’s reputation was ruined because of me.
In the end, I was stabbed to death by a group of deranged antique fanatics and dumped in the wilderness like trash.
——
“Don’t drive if you’ve been drinking. Have you learned nothing from the traffic laws?”
On the highway, four or five police cars set up a checkpoint. Engines roared and officers shouted over the noise.
A traffic officer stared at the blinking light on the breathalyzer and barked at me to get out of the car.
I unbuckled my seatbelt, glancing at my phone. As expected, the moment I hit the unlock button, a new message popped up from Oscar.
[I remember how much you love antiques. I just met a veteran collector. Want to go visit together?]
It was the exact same message as last time.
My heart skipped a beat, and my hands trembled.
“What’s wrong? Drank too much to walk straight?”
The officer was about to help me out when I snapped back to reality and practically skipped over to the police car, beaming.
“Another nutcase.”
“Must be drunk out of his mind. Who gets excited about being detained?”
Inside the patrol car, a few drunken middle-aged men gave me weird looks, as if I’d lost my mind.
I ignored them, grinning so wide my cheeks hurt.
At the hospital, a nurse prepared to draw blood for alcohol testing. It seemed she noticed something was off. Her gaze lingered on my face, and she moved unusually slow while disinfecting my arm.
“Russell, are you okay?”
“Son, the police said you were drunk driving. Is that true?”
Just then, the door to the blood draw room burst open.
My fiancée and parents rushed in, all wearing the same anxious expression.
“What are you doing barging in here? We haven’t even finished drawing blood!”
“We’re here for Russell! If you’ve got a problem, take it out on us—leave him alone!”
My dad stepped in front protectively. My mom and fiancée hurried up to check on me, worry written all over their faces.
Seeing their familiar faces, my nose stung with emotion.
Thank God.
There’s still time to change everything.
In this life, I won’t let my parents go gray overnight from worry, or force them to burn through their savings to save me.
And I won’t let my fiancée’s name be dragged through the mud again, leaving her betrayed and abandoned by everyone.
When the blood test was done and the officer took my statement, the nurse kept sneaking glances at me, and even the cop looked suspicious.
“You didn’t actually drink, did you?”
My heart jumped. The warmth I’d felt moments ago vanished in an instant, replaced by cold panic.
How did he figure that out?
I forced a smile and did what every reckless driver says.
“Heh! Of course I didn’t drink. I have no idea why the breathalyzer gave a false reading.”
Thankfully, he didn’t press further. He just nodded and moved on to the next person.
I let out a long, shaky breath. Just then, my phone buzzed again.
It was another voice message from Oscar.
“Are you asleep? Why haven’t you replied? I already scheduled the visit for us. Tomorrow at 9 a.m.—don’t be late!”
In my past life, it was the morning after he sent this exact message that we walked into the antique collector’s house.
And not long after we stepped inside—he vanished without a trace.
