Don't Jump

I closed my eyes, about to jump off a building, when an ill-timed phone ringtone blared. On the other end of the phone came a voice that I couldn't be more familiar with. It was my own voice. "Don't jump, Jack Sterling." Chapter 1 I stood on the hotel rooftop, feeling utterly hopeless. Watching the endless stream of cars and ant-like pedestrians on the street below, I was once again reminded of how small and insignificant I was. Yes, small. My girlfriend is very beautiful. Her name is Wendy Holland. Earlier today, she told me she had a group meeting and might sleep at the dorm tonight. I didn't suspect a thing. Not long after, I spotted her at the Four Seasons Hotel below me. Even when I saw her walk into a room with a man with my own eyes, I still refused to believe it. I dawdled for over an hour, then went up to the hotel rooftop, took out my phone, and called her. The call connected. There was a lot of noise on her end. Breathing heavily, she asked what I wanted. Through the receiver, I heard a clamor of car horns. I asked where she was, why it was so noisy. She said she was at the campus, that her advisor was holding the group meeting, and she had snuck out to take the call. I said nothing. From the receiver came the sound of honking, mingled with faint panting and strange, rhythmic noises. She, noticing my silence, impatiently told me to hurry up and say what I wanted. There were countless words I wanted to say, but they all got stuck in my throat. In the end, I only asked, "Are you coming back tonight?" "No, I'm not. I'm busy, so if that's all, I'm hanging up..." On the last two words, her voice trembled, as if she was gritting her teeth, trying to endure some kind of impact. Only the dial tone remained after that. I stared at the Mercedes honking persistently downstairs, yet in my mind, I was still pathetically making excuses for her. Maybe there was an equally impatient driver honking at the campus gate? Maybe that driver's honking frequency was exactly the same as the one downstairs? Or perhaps, it was the other possibility... My girlfriend was on the balcony of a hotel room, passionately entangled with another man. Even while taking my call, she was engaged in that shameless act. That man must be a freak. He was the one who made Wendy answer my call. Doing it on the balcony must have been his idea too, otherwise the honking wouldn't be so loud... I was calmly analyzing everything in my mind, yet my heart ached to the point of suffocation. I squatted down, picked up a parcel by my feet, and opened it. Inside were an unopened syringe and a bottle of clear, pale yellow liquid. I hadn't been idle during that hour of procrastination. I'd bought the maximum dosage of propofol I could from an anesthesiologist I knew who did freelance work. I brought this box of medicine to the rooftop before making that call to Wendy. If she had been honest with me and had asked for forgiveness, I would have thrown away the medicine and gone home. Unfortunately, she hadn't. Propofol is a fast-acting and potent anesthetic, often referred to as "milk" in hospitals. It's usually used for surgical anesthesia. Injecting a small amount of propofol can induce peaceful sleep and a pleasant mood. Frequent or large doses can lead to addiction. Due to severe insomnia, I sometimes injected myself with a small amount of propofol to get a good night's sleep. I never told Wendy about this. I usually did it on nights she stayed over at school for experiments. My inner anxiety and pain could only be alleviated this way since they couldn't be soothed by my girlfriend. In the past, I'd only injected a tiny bit each time, carefully controlling the dosage. However, deep down, I had fantasized about increasing the dose. If I did, I might be able to leave this world in that state of pleasure and tranquility, without any pain. Chapter 2 This time, just as I'd fantasized, I drew all the liquid from the bottle into the syringe. Although I wasn't sure what dosage would cause cardiac arrest, this much should be enough. I rolled up my sleeve and placed the syringe needle tip against the exposed vein on my forearm. When the needle pierced my skin, I instinctively flinched. My thumb, pressing on the plunger, just wouldn't push down. Jack, what do you have left to cling to?! You've fallen out with your parents, lost your job, cut ties with almost all your friends, and now even your girlfriend, whom you consider your pillar of support, has betrayed you. Family, friendship, love, career... you have nothing left. Why not just leave this world? Even being a rich family's dog in the next life would be better than a life like this. But why was my thumb trembling so violently? Push it, push it down! I suddenly screamed like a madman, looking utterly insane, then instantly lost all strength and threw the syringe aside. I heard many suicide victims regretted it just before death. Turned out it was true. I knew why my thumb couldn't push down. It was simple: I was scared, I was afraid of dying! The will to live is a biological instinct, and suicide is resisting that instinct. Many people want to die but fear pain, and in the end, after suffering pain, they go to the hospital, which shows they still have a will to live deep down inside. Dang it, dang it, Jack, you coward! The honking suddenly stopped. I stood up, walked to the edge of the rooftop, and leaned over to look down. The noisy Mercedes downstairs was finally driving away. Suddenly, I had another idea. Wendy and that man's room was directly above the hotel entrance. They were doing their "thing" on the balcony right now. If I jumped down from right above them, would they notice me falling from the sky? That man, in the throes of passion, might be scared limp at the sight of me falling from the sky and become impotent from then on. Wendy would panic seeing my bloody, messed-up corpse at the hotel entrance, then wail in remorse. My parents would probably forgive me after I died. They would lean on each other, gazing at my remains, and murmur words of grief. Friends I hadn't contacted in ages would also mourn me. They'd all post "RIP, Jack" followed by a candle emoji on their social media. I fantasized about everything that would happen after my death, satisfying myself with the imagined grief of my family and friends. Of course I knew that imagining all this was pathetic and despicable, but I couldn't help myself because only by doing so could I feel that I was someone whom people cared about rather than a dispensable existence. Jumping also had one other benefit: once I took that step, even if I regretted it, it would be too late. Falling from 26-stories high would mean certain death. Even if I regretted it, the regret would only last for two seconds before I hit the ground. The pain would be quick. I just had to close my eyes and it would be all over. Yes, let's do it. I lifted my foot and placed it on the parapet wall. Slowly shifting my weight between my feet, I gradually climbed onto it. I dared not look down. My legs felt weak, but when I imagined Wendy's expression of remorse, my trembling stopped. I looked down and moved to the spot directly above the main entrance. There was no wind today, so my body should land right at the doorway. Goodbye, my failed and boring life. I closed my eyes and was about to leap off when an ill-timed phone ringtone blared. Chapter 3 I pulled out my phone. The screen showed "Unknown Caller". After hesitating for two seconds, I answered. "Hello?" A voice that I couldn't be more familiar with came from the other end of the line. It was my own voice. "Don't jump, Jack Sterling." Although I had a faint suspicion, I still asked, "Who are you?" "Well, you probably won't believe it, but I'm actually you from ten years in the future—" "Hold on a second," I interrupted him. "Do you know where I am?" "Yeah, I know. You're on the rooftop of the Four Seasons Hotel right now. If I hadn't called you, you would have jumped and smashed yourself to pieces." "For what reason am I jumping off a building?" "Because Wendy cheated on you." "Hmm, okay, I believe you." There was a pause on the other end, then the person asked, surprised, "Aren't you going to ask anything else?" I gave a bitter laugh. "If you're really my future self, you should know the situation I'm in. I've lost everything. What could you gain by deceiving me?" My future self chuckled. "Actually, you don't have to be so pessimistic. Things are about to take a turn for the better. The future you, which is me, is doing very well... Bro, get off that parapet wall first. If you slip, both of us are goners." Infected by the lightheartedness in his tone, I obediently stepped down from the wall and plopped onto the floor. Curiosity momentarily took over. I stammered, "Future me... are things really... going well for you?" "Yeah, you're gonna make it, bro!" My future self's words invigorated me. "Do you remember the real reason you ended up in this predicament?" The real reason? Wendy and I used to be an enviable, inspiring couple. We started dating in our sophomore year. We came from the same hometown to a big city to study, and we found kinship in each other's familiar accent. When I graduated with my bachelor's, I chose to work, while Wendy pursued postgraduate studies. But that wasn't the real reason our relationship went sour. After working, I started earning some money. Not only did I use it to support Wendy's further education, I also helped her alleviate her family's financial burdens. Wendy was very grateful, and we'd agreed to get married as soon as she graduated. The real reason our relationship went sour was that I lost my job two years later, when Wendy was in her second year of grad school. "The reason Wendy cheated wasn't because she saw no hope in you," my future self said. "It's because, ever since your company went bust and you became unemployed, you lost all enthusiasm for life." "You know that wasn't my fault," I mumbled, "At least, not entirely." My future self sighed. "A man's greatest fear is choosing the wrong profession." My undergraduate major was a niche, traditional field related to engineering. The barrier to entry for this line of work at the junior level wasn't high. Even vocational school graduates without a university degree could quickly pick it up. Many of my coursemates chose to pursue postgraduate studies after graduation precisely because the bachelor's degree wasn't competitive enough. The trend for further studies was simply combining the traditional professional field with the latest developments in computer technology, such as AI or deep learning. With a master's degree like that and a few SCI papers under your belt, even if you didn't switch careers, finding a stable job wouldn't be a problem. I actually had the grades for guaranteed admission to postgraduate studies. However, even if tuition was waived, my family would still need to pay for three years of living expenses. Wendy's family was even poorer than mine. If I went for postgraduate studies, she would have to go back to our hometown to find work. Therefore, for both our futures, I chose to work instead. Chapter 4 Because of this, my parents fell out with me. They angrily questioned me, "We scrimped and saved to send you to college. Now, there's clearly a better opportunity right in front of you, and it's not like we can't afford to support your postgraduate studies. Why aren't you trying to climb higher?" Because of love. However, I could only say that in my mind. My parents were very disappointed in me. Before leaving, they said, "Take care of yourself. Don't come home anymore." I silently watched them leave. Back then, I thought that, when I made something of myself, married Wendy, and drove a car home for Christmas, all past conflicts would be forgotten. Therefore, I worked desperately. Working overtime and during holidays were the norm for me. At first, I did make some money. Watching my bank balance slowly increase, my heart was filled with aspirations for the future. Alas, the good times didn't last. As technology evolved, my low-skilled job was gradually replaced by machines. The entire industry was buffeted by the tide of the times. This eventually led to the decline, bankruptcy, and closure of countless small businesses, including the company I worked for. Many people lost their jobs for the same reason as me. My friend Terry Lineker was in a similar situation. Through a friend's connection, he found a job portering at a hotel, and the hotel was this very Four Seasons Hotel below me. I was actually there to look for him. What? You think it's shameful for a university graduate to be a porter? Come on, I couldn't even find a portering job. "How did I make it in the future? Did I switch careers?" I asked. My future self mused for a moment, then replied, "I can't say too much about the specifics... Some new industries will emerge in the future that align perfectly with your major. You'll quickly ride this wave and get a much better job than before." Hearing this, I relaxed considerably. After much hesitation, I stammered, "So, what about her, um, Wendy?" "Hah, can't help yourself, can you? I was wondering when you'd ask," my future self teased his past self mercilessly. "Wait, I'll play you a recording." A crackling noise came from the phone. After a while, a woman's voice could be heard saying, "Hello, are you Wendy Sterling, Mr. Jack Sterling's wife?" My nerves instantly tightened, then I heard the heavenly reply, "Yes." It was her! That was definitely Wendy's voice! Her unhesitating affirmation made me dizzy with delight, and the concealed pride in her voice excited me even more. "Hi, I'm a reporter from the City Daily newspaper. Your husband has recently achieved remarkable success in his field. Our newspaper would like to learn more about his family. Could you answer a few questions for me?" "Of course." "Then, if I may be so bold... First, how did you and Mr. Sterling meet?" "We met at college. I was still studying then and had no income. My husband not only supported me financially but also helped me take care of my family. I've always been very grateful to him." I was overjoyed. Even though Wendy had cheated on me, deep down, she knew how good I was to her. "I heard your husband is your first love, is that true?" "Mm-hmm," Wendy's voice carried a hint of shyness. "I matured a bit later compared to other girls, and no one had ever treated me so well... so my first relationship was with him. I guess I'm quite lucky." Chapter 5 I'm lucky too, Wendy. You're my first love too! But why did you... Did that man force you? I started overthinking as I listened. "Ah, how wonderful! I hear you have two children?" "Yes, two little angels joined our family last year, a boy and a girl. The boy's name is—" The recording suddenly cut off there. I anxiously said "Hello? Hello?" for a while, then my future self's voice came on, "Stop shouting, you're going to blow my eardrum out." "What's the boy's name?" I asked anxiously. "Don't be so impatient, you'll find out eventually," my future self said smugly. "What you just heard was a recording of a reporter interviewing Wendy. I want to tell you that Wendy will definitely become your wife in the future, and you are destined for success. Are you relieved now?" "Mm-hmm." I nodded like a puppy. Now, I no longer wanted to die, and even felt a deep sense of fear for almost missing out on a wonderful future. "I know you're at the hotel to borrow money from Terry. Go home. You won't be able to borrow any," my future self said, knowing how it would turn out. "You haven't paid him back from last time, and Terry's mother is critically ill. He needs money more than you do." "Critically ill? Is it serious?" I asked, surprised. Terry never mentioned it. Earlier, my mind was completely occupied with Wendy, so I went up to the rooftop after only a few words with Terry. "Very serious. She needs a kidney transplant. It'll cost tens of thousands, which might not seem like much later, but Terry can't afford that money now." Hearing that, I felt very sad. Terry was the only person I could still consider a close friend. We had both experienced the baptism of unemployment, so we could understand each other's plight. If possible, I really wanted to help him. Unfortunately, I didn't have the means. "As for Wendy... just forgive her for now. Pretend this cheating never happened, and don't ever bring it up with her again. You love her so much, you should be able to do that, right? She'll eventually come back to you," my future self continued to persuade me. I nodded with difficulty. Since her future was with me, I would choose to forgive her this time. I made up my mind not to overthink it, rubbed my numb legs, and stood up with effort. As I walked towards the metal door to leave the rooftop, I thanked my future self, "Thank you, future me. It sounds a bit strange to say, but you saved my life." My future self laughed, "No problem. Saving you is saving myself, isn't it?" I chuckled softly, saw the propofol syringe I'd thrown aside, and casually remarked, "That was a close call. You should've called when I was about to inject myself." My future self said, "Inject yourself? Are you sick? You need to take better care of your health! There's a happy life waiting for you!" I abruptly stopped. "Huh? Why'd you stop?" a confused voice came from the other end of the phone. I looked around, asking, "Can you see what's happening here?" "Only through your phone's camera, and only when the call is connected," he urged me to leave again. "If you're interested in future tech, go home and sit down in a comfy spot. We can have a long chat." Ignoring his suggestion, I continued to ask, "Before jumping, what was I originally going to do?" Chapter 6 "Why are you suddenly asking that?" "Answer me." Perhaps sensing the seriousness in my tone, he deliberated for a moment and said, "I can't recall the exact details from ten years ago. That day, you... you originally wanted to borrow money from Terry, so you went to the hotel to find him. Unexpectedly, you ran into Wendy and her advisor..." My pupils constricted. "And then?" "Then, you couldn't take it anymore. You went up to the rooftop wanting to jump. Before jumping, you called Wendy, but Wendy lied to you on the phone. In your sorrow, you climbed onto the parapet wall. If I hadn't called you at that critical moment, you would have..." "Oh, really?" I dragged out the end of my sentence. "That man did look familiar. So he's Wendy's advisor, huh... I didn't recognize him just now, so how did the future me know?" "Ah, she'll tell you in the future." He clearly paused for a split second, but managed to regain his composure. "Is that so? But didn't you just advise me not to bring this up with her? Did she bring it up herself?" "Uh... yes, she did, she—" I cut him off, saying, "Do you remember I used to take propofol to help me sleep?" "Of course!" He sounded glad to hear me change the subject, "But don't worry, the future you has already kicked that bad habit. Now I sleep well every night." "Hah." I laughed coldly. "Then you should also remember that before I stood on that wall, I originally planned to inject myself with a full syringe of propofol to kill myself. Jumping was just a spur-of-the-moment idea." "..." Before he could argue, I added, "Don't say you 'forgot'. I don't believe I'll ever forget such a crucial detail. You didn't mention the injection at all. Who are you?" Silence fell on the other end of the line. A full minute passed without anyone speaking. Just as I thought no one would answer, a woman suddenly snapped angrily, "You went up to the rooftop not to jump, but to inject yourself with drugs? Are you dumb?" I was stunned by her scolding and was speechless for a moment. The woman, however, continued to speak to herself, "What is the investigation team doing? Do they still want their salaries?" Then, a cacophony of voices came from the other end. They sounded like apologies. "You... who exactly are you people?" I was getting more and more confused. The woman said coldly, "I'll be frank, Mr. Sterling. I'm indeed calling from ten years in the future, but there's no 'future you' here. You actually jumped from the building and died ten years ago. We've investigated everything about you, including your family, friends, and the reason you jumped. I just didn't expect you to not even know who your girlfriend's lover was," she said mockingly. "We know a bit about the propofol, but we didn't know you were carrying it that day... Sigh, it's not entirely the investigation team's fault. After all, this incident had a huge impact, so the authorities kept many details a secret." "A huge impact?" Noticing her choice of words, I felt a bit puzzled. "Yes. You might find it strange, thinking what huge impact could a cucked loser jumping off a building possibly have," her tone was very impolite, "but you absolutely shouldn't have chosen to jump at that specific time on that specific day." "I don't understand..." I listened dumbfounded.