A glimmer of understanding dawned upon her regarding the task.
Sure enough, as the red light blinked anew, a young boy dashed out chasing a soccer ball. Swift as lightning, Eric grasped him by the collar!
Tearing!
The boy's shirt rent, but he paid no heed, wailing, "My ball! My soccer ball!"
He struggled fiercely beneath her grip, kicking wildly with surprising strength. Eric winced at each blow, thinking, "This child is stronger than I expected!" Relenting, she stooped to enfold him in an embrace, soothing, "I'll buy you a new one! But you mustn't cross on a red light."
"No! My soccer ball!"
"Here, have some candy—lollipops, would you like one?" Eric freed a hand to produce from her pocket—or rather, the supermarket aid—a cluster of lollipops tied together, some ten or so sticks.
The boy's resistance faltered as his gaze lit upon the treats, mouth watering.
"All yours, if you're a good boy and wait for the green light, alright?"
The boy accepted the sweets obediently, allowing Eric to lead him behind a stone post to await the signal. He unwrapped two lollipops, nibbling with the eagerness of a little squirrel. When the light turned green, he bounded across, turning back to wave cheerfully, "Bye, sister!"
Thereafter, Eric confronted multiple crises as pedestrians recklessly flouted traffic rules, narrowly escaping collisions. She was so engrossed in preventing accidents, she failed even to drink water, her focus wholly consumed.
An hour passed swiftly. With only minutes left in her shift, she was confident of a smooth end—until the mission's first deadly peril struck.
Two pedestrians brazenly dashed through a red light; Eric managed to halt only one, while the other was struck by a truck and hurled five meters.
"Ah!" The startled scream sounded like a signal. Eric's vision blurred, and when it cleared, she found herself walking.
Her surroundings were unfamiliar—how had she arrived here? Mere moments ago, she had been volunteering at the intersection!
A stranger still, she found she could not command her body. Though it moved forward, she could neither stop nor turn her head or raise a hand.
Even the pace and vantage felt uncharacteristic.
This was not her body.
As the form progressed, Eric sensed her consciousness trapped, helpless despite futile struggles.
Approaching a glass display window, the figure halted, peering in. Reflected in its gleaming surface was confirmation of her suspicions—this body belonged to another.
The mirror revealed a girl of about fourteen or fifteen, delicate and comely, braided into twin plaits. Within the window sat a lavishly dressed doll perched atop a tall stand—noble and exquisite—a visage that sparked longing and admiration in the girl's eyes.
She reached out, fingers grazing the glass as if touching a dream more than reality.
Eric shivered with dread—it clicked! This was the very pedestrian struck by the truck!
In the chaos, she had only caught one pedestrian; from the corner of her eye, she had glimpsed a figure hurled through the air, clothed in a yellow dress.
Having feasted her eyes upon the doll, the girl glanced at her watch, startled, "I'm late for tutoring!" She tugged her bag's strap and hastened away.
Her gaze bobbed with exertion; Eric even heard the girl's labored breathing.
Anxious, Eric still lacked control over the body but intuited that if the girl continued toward Huangquan Intersection, the tragedy would repeat, and she would share the girl's fate.
She could not allow the girl's death!
As the girl sprinted to beat the clock, Eric endeavored to seize control to preserve her own life.
Calmly, she analyzed the situation.
The task could hardly be a mere death sentence; surely a way to survive existed, and she had to discover it.
At this moment, her consciousness inhabiting the girl's form, she felt no kinship with limbs or senses. Before the girl reached the crossroads, she had to wrest control—at least of one limb, a foot or a hand!
With control of a single hand, she could steer the girl to safety.
Hand! Hand! Hand!
Where is my hand?
Eric summoned every ounce of strength to visualize her right hand, recalling the intricate patterns of its palm, the contour of her nails, the texture of her skin, and the calluses etched upon her knuckles from writing… She endeavored to reconnect with her right hand.
The girl faced the gentle afternoon breeze, her long hair billowing like the heroine of a shōjo manga greeting the dawn. She bounded out of the alleyway like a startled fawn, crossing the small intersection as she raced toward Huangquan Road crossroads.
The pedestrian light was fortunately green, the countdown at twenty-five seconds.
At her current pace, reach was impossible; she accelerated.
Memories flooded her—her teacher's earnest admonitions, the disappointed yet hopeful gazes of her parents at home. She must not be late for afternoon tutoring; her parents would be angry!
Those words, those looks, the red marks on her assignments—all transformed into relentless urging to quicken her pace.
As the girl sped up, Eric finally succeeded in sensing her right hand!
"Move it, right hand, just move!" Eric silently implored.
Eighteen.
Seventeen.
Sixteen.
"Lovely weather today, the sun's shining brightly."
"There's an event at Huangquan Mall this afternoon—you can get free eggs…"
Casual chatter drifted among pedestrians, while the green light's countdown steadily diminished. The girl grew increasingly anxious, surging forward once more. Though Eric remained detached from the body, she felt the rapid beating of an anxious heart.
Hand! Hurry and move!
Three meters.
Two meters.
The girl neared the intersection.
With only three seconds left on the signal, she resolutely surged ahead.
Suddenly, her right hand grasped involuntarily onto the pole of a volunteer's sunshade at the roadside.
The grip was so forceful that inertia threw her body forward, only to be yanked back, colliding with the umbrella stand.
A creaking crack echoed.
Pain seared through her right hand's bones as they fractured, and the girl screamed in agony.
At that moment, Eric reclaimed full sensory awareness of the body, enduring the same excruciating pain. Yet she dared not loosen her grip—she awaited the passage of the pedestrian signal.
The threat of the truck had been averted; Eric feared that releasing her hold would lead the girl to dash forth again, courting death. She resolved to hold fast until the signal turned green.
"Oh dear, what's going on here?" The voice belonged to a middle-aged man—Eric had just halted him from crossing. Originally intent on crossing mid-call, he had paused at the girl's unexpected cry. The truck had brushed past his face, leaving him drenched in cold sweat as he stumbled back.
After explaining briefly to his client and ending the call, he crouched to inquire after the girl.
"My hand hurts so much… it hurts!" She wept, tears streaming.
"Here, release your grip for now. Ma'am, could you help lift her? Oh no, her knee's scraped and bleeding!"
Bystanders awaiting the signal gathered to assist. The man gently pried open the girl's clenched fingers; she grimaced through the pain but complied.
Eric's pain threshold, honed by experience, surpassed this agony, and despite the shattered bones, she stubbornly clung to the umbrella pole.
The girl's will and the rescuers' aid manifested as resistance against her grasp; control over her right hand waned. One finger loosened—then another. Eric steeled herself against distraction, focusing intently on sensing her right hand.
"Ah!"
"Oi, you're gripping again! The bone's protruding! You need to get to a hospital, fast."
"Sweetheart, please loosen your grip."
"The bone's visible…"
Gasping between sobs, the girl pleaded, "I can't… I can't let go…"
"Call an ambulance, quickly!"
Sixty seconds later, as the pedestrian light became green, the girl relinquished her hold. The kind bystanders rushed to escort her to the hospital.
Once the girl left the intersection, Eric felt a shudder course through her. She returned to her own body.
Before her flowed the unbroken stream of traffic, unmarred by accident. Clutching her right hand, uninjured in reality, she felt the phantom pain surging spasmodically from her astral projection, soothing it only by pressing her hand firmly against her abdomen.
"Thank you, young lady. You truly saved my life," the middle-aged man said gratefully, sweat trickling down his brow.
"Be careful next time—don't cross while distracted by your phone," Eric admonished, glancing vigilantly left and right.
The pale, breathless girl returned Eric's thanks. "Thank you, sister. You saved me too."
Eric smiled sincerely, cautioning, "Be cautious going forward; it's better to be late by even a minute than to rush."
The girl nodded earnestly. "I understand, sister. I'll be more careful." She instinctively raised her arm to check her watch, her face tinged with anxious pallor.
She was going to be late!
Eric checked her own watch.
Three o'clock. The task concluded.
Eric remained uncertain whether she had truly completed the task. The NPC she had met two hours prior had not appeared to hand over the assignment's conclusion; but another NPC tasked with assuming the role arrived, arriving to inspect the area.
An impulse stirred within Eric. She turned and asked, "You're heading to tutoring, right? I'll take you there."
The girl's eyes widened in surprise.
Swiftly, they darted toward a nearby alley where Eric summoned a motorcycle from the supermarket aid.
In five minutes, she delivered the girl to the tutoring classroom. Before entering, the girl turned back, flashed a smile, and waved, "Thank you, sister. Goodbye!"
Touched, Eric retrieved her task card, now bearing a silent crimson fingerprint.
Indeed, the core of the mission lay with this girl.
In this seemingly simple afternoon, the girl's rush to arrive had nearly cost her life, forever barring her from the tutoring room. Her fixation. Yet Eric's intervention altered her fate and ensured her punctual arrival, completing the task.
Eric had expected a deadly, perilous challenge, riddled with threats; instead, the mission had concluded with unexpected ease.
She pondered the spirits encountered—some radiated malice and murderous intent, others bore traces of tenderness. There was Frank, who merely wished to enjoy his dinosaur bumper cars; the ghost swayed by chocolate; and today's girl, desperate to attend her tutoring class on time.