Extra: An Ordinary Life. (End)

“Eli, I want that one.” Edlyn pointed at a bottle on the shelf, her finger tapping like a dragonfly on a reed.

Eli followed her gesture, his face twisting like he’d just sipped bitter tea. “You sure?”

“I’m sure.” Edlyn nodded, eyes steady like still water under moonlight.

They had died and returned more times than fallen leaves in autumn. Each life, they met again, and their memories rose like morning mist.

Maybe they were just bored, drifting across worlds like travelers chasing lanterns.

In this life, Eli went by Lu Yue, and Edlyn by Xu Jiayi. Old names, though, fit like worn-in coats they never stopped loving.

Eli eyed the red “Scream” bottle on the shelf and fell silent, like a temple bell holding its tone. “Don’t regret it.”

“I won’t.” Edlyn frowned, puzzled by his storm-cloud face.

“Just don’t ditch it and make me drink it.” Eli scratched his head, worry fluttering like sparrows in a banyan.

They left the supermarket, plastic bags swinging like pendulums in his hands. He watched Edlyn hop along ahead and chuckled, head shaking like a slow fan. “You’re grown, but you still bounce like a teen.”

“Oh! Husband—listen.” Her voice lilted like wind chimes. “School starts the day after tomorrow. I won’t cook lunch. It’s your job!”

“That’s perfect. Your cooking scares even brave men,” Eli said, grin bright as city neon.

“Tch.” Edlyn sniffed, eyes slipping to the red bottle like a cat watching a string.

“Babe, I suddenly pity your students.” Eli’s smile curved like a crescent moon. “You won’t lead them astray, will you? You’re the Demonic Lord, remember?”

“No way. Villain.” Her fist thumped his chest like a playful drumbeat.

This time around, she taught biology at a middle school. Eli ran a small company, steering it like a modest boat in busy waters.

They owned an apartment in the city’s south district, windows catching sunsets like nets catching koi.

Home again, Edlyn flopped onto the sofa, splayed like a tired cat in sun. “Ah—work is a buzzing fly. I don’t wanna.”

Eli set the bags down, then dipped to kiss her, a soft rain on parched earth. He pulled back smiling. “As if anyone wants to work.”

“You’re awful.” She wiped her lips, mock disgust as quick as a sparrow flick.

They kissed and laughed, warmth pooling like tea in a clay cup. Then Eli shrugged off his jacket, tied on an apron, and stepped into the kitchen like a general into his field.

Edlyn curled up with her phone, tapping her game like pebbles on a drum. The TV murmured a World Cup match, stadium lights glittering like frost.

She played till boredom drifted in like fog. Her gaze slid to the red bottle on the table, gleaming like lacquer. “Almost forgot.”

She sat up and reached out, fingers like a crane’s beak closing.

Seconds later, Eli—elbows deep in seafood, brine scent like the tide—heard a scream rip the air like a kettle shrieking.

He dropped his task and hurried to the living room, footsteps thudding like rain. On the balcony, Edlyn was bent over the sink, rinsing her mouth like a fish fighting the net.

He spotted the bottle on the table and laughed, bright as firecrackers. “Ha! Serves you right. I warned you.”

Moments later, Edlyn walked back in, complexion gray as ash. “Did I just chew rotten roots?”

Eli’s laughter rolled like a drumline.

Days drifted by like clouds crossing a ridge. Three years slipped past, quick as sand through fingers.

One evening, Eli brought home a cake—sweetness boxed like a little moon—because she’d been craving it for days.

He stepped in and felt a hush, like snow before dawn. His little wife sat upright in the living room, TV dark, phone quiet, eyes on a book like a priestess at prayer.

He came close, arm circling her like a shawl, and kissed her forehead, soft as falling petals. “Why so good today?”

Edlyn looked up, gaze a clear pool, then dropped it back to the page like a feather settling.

Eli blinked, mischief curling like smoke, and let his hand wander to squeeze her backside, palm warm as bread.

Edlyn flushed, pink as cherry blossom. Her fingers pinched his waist sharp as a crab’s claw.

She didn’t speak, and he didn’t rush. They leaned together, heat gentle as a hearth.

He felt her eyes lift like dawn. He lowered his head, their gaze meeting like two stars.

Edlyn dipped her face and murmured, voice soft as glutinous rice. “I… I have it.”

“What?” Eli froze, mind blank as fresh snow, then rubbed his ear like clearing a shell.

Edlyn’s blush deepened, ripe as a peach. “We’re going to have a child.”

“...” Eli laughed, and his kiss fell like evening rain.

For them, having a child was simple as breathing—if fate opened her gate. They never forced it, trusting luck like fishermen trust the river.

Their bodies were strong as ironwood, which made conceiving a rare wind. So most nights, they let the stream run without a dam.

“Nothing else to say?” Edlyn asked, tone a teasing ribbon.

Eli’s grin spread, a lantern lighting. He held her close, embrace like warm cotton. “Baby, let’s raise a whole soccer team. How about it?”

Her answer was a flurry of tiny fists, pattering like hail.

Time turned, steady as a millstone. Their child reached four, bright as a quicksilver spark.

She didn’t inherit their strange strength. Her mind was a keen blade, but her body was a paper kite in light wind.

“Luo Luo—come here.” Edlyn scooped the girl up, kneading her cheeks like fresh dough, eyes tender as spring rain.

Eli truly had no flair for names. She became Lu Luo, cuteness stamped like a seal, a face made to melt crowds.

He came home to see mother and daughter tangled with snacks, crumbs like stars on a dark couch. He chuckled, voice warm as soup. “What mom does that?”

“What?” Edlyn shot him a look, eyes flashing like a silver fish.

An ordinary life was short to them, quick as a spark from flint.

Soon they were in their seventies, hair white as frost. Edlyn’s health, never great since this rebirth, waned like a thinning moon. At seventy-three, with husband, child, and grandchildren gathered like a circle of lamps, she left satisfied.

Eli sat at the bedside, wiping tears that fell like winter rain.

Ten years later, sickness took him too, his breath fading like a tide pulling back.

They returned to their true selves, smiling as two old stars.

In the endless void, hand in hand like braided silk, they watched Lu Luo’s life unfurl on Earth, steady as a river to the sea.

Only when she finished her journey, safe and smooth like a ship docking at dusk, did they embrace and drift away.

Time meant nothing now, a silent lake without ripples.

They knew it well: meeting each other and staying forever was fortune vast as the sky.

“Hey, Eli—where do we play next?”

“Wherever you’re happy.”