"镜中新娘"
第一部分
这家古董店在雨季开业.
陈情记得很清楚,因为那天她和未婚夫江远分手了.她独自一人走在南京东路,浑身被雨淋湿,看起来像只溺水的老鼠.
当她经过店铺时,橱窗里的一面镜子突然闪闪发光.
那是一面大型青铜镜子,圆形,边缘雕刻着复杂的云朵图案.店面暗淡无光,覆盖着一层黑色污渍,但在昏暗的店内,却发出微弱的光芒.
陈情停下,盯着镜子看.
镜子里,她看见了自己.
但不是现在的自己.
镜中映出她穿着红色婚纱,头戴凤凰冠,妆容精致.她在微笑,那是美丽的笑容,但眼神空洞.
陈情揉了揉眼睛,又看了看.倒影里的她又恢复了平常——头发滴水,妆容晕染,衣衫褴褛.
"小姐,要进来看看吗?"
店门突然打开了.一位老人站在门口,对她微笑.
他身材非常瘦削,穿着传统的蓝色长袍,留着长长的白胡须.他看起来就像从共和党时代的电影里走出来的.
"我...我只是路过,"陈情说.
"路过也是一种命运,"老人说."进来避雨吧.外面很沉重."
陈情犹豫了一下,然后走了进去.
店铺不大,堆满了古董:花瓶,卷轴,玉器,家具.空气中弥漫着樟脑木和檀香的混合气息,略带刺鼻,却又奇异地令人安心.
"小姐,你喜欢那面镜子了吗?"老人问道.
陈青愣住了."你怎么知道的?"
"我看到你盯着它看了很久."老人走向镜子,用袖子擦拭镜面."这是一面清代嫁妆镜,已有两百多年历史."
"嫁妆镜?"
"是的.过去,富裕家庭的年轻女士结婚时,会得到这样的镜子.婚礼前,新娘会在镜子前梳理自己,这是一种称为"开脸"的仪式.传说如果镜中新娘微笑,婚姻将会幸福美满;如果她哭了,那就不幸了."
陈青看着镜子,突然问:"如果镜中的新娘...没有表情?"
老人停顿了一下,然后微笑."你开玩笑吧,小姐.镜子只是反映一个人的外貌.怎么会没有表情呢?"
陈青没有回答,只是盯着玻璃看.
她记得刚才看到的自己——穿着婚纱,微笑着,但眼神空洞.那不是她,但无疑是她的脸.
"这面镜子...多少钱?"她听见自己问道.
老人看着她,表情复杂.
"这面镜子不卖,"他说.
"为什么不呢?"
"因为它在等某个人,"他说."等待它的真正主人."
陈青觉得很困惑,但没有再追问.她感谢他,转身离开.
当她走到门口时,老人突然叫住了她.
"小姐,"他说,"如果你真的想要这面镜子,三天后再来.到那时,它会给你答案."
Chen Qing turned back, wanting to ask what "answer" meant, but the old man had already turned and disappeared into the depths of the shop, lost among the mountains of antiques.
Back home, Chen Qing changed her clothes, made a cup of hot tea, and sat on the sofa in a daze.
She and Jiang Yuan had met in university. They'd been together for eight years and were supposed to get married this year. The date was set for the eighteenth of next month. The invitations were already printed.
But a week ago, Jiang Yuan suddenly said he wanted to break up.
The reason was simple: he was uncertain.
"I'm not sure if we're truly suited," he said. "I'm not sure if marriage is the right choice. I'm not sure if I can make you happy."
Chen Qing asked him, "Then what are you sure of?"
Jiang Yuan was silent for a long time. "I'm sure I'm lost right now."
Then he left, leaving Chen Qing alone in the restaurant, watching the two steaks on the table grow cold.
What about the invitations? The hotel deposit? All the newlywed items already bought?
And what about her? What was she to do?
Chen Qing hugged her teacup, staring at the rain outside the window.
The rain poured down, beating against the glass with a dense pat-pat-pat, like countless hands knocking.
She suddenly thought of that mirror.
The her in the mirror, wearing wedding clothes, smiling, but with empty eyes.
That was a bride who had decided to marry but had already lost her soul.
Just like her now.
That night, Chen Qing had a dream.
In the dream, she was standing outside the antique shop again. The door was open, the interior pitch black, with only that bronze mirror glowing.
She walked in and stood before the mirror.
In the mirror, she saw the wedding-dress-clad version of herself again.
But this time, the reflection spoke.
"You've come," the mirror-person said.
"Who are you?" Chen Qing asked.
"I am you," the mirror-person smiled. "Or rather, I am the person you were meant to become."
"What do you mean?"
"You were supposed to marry on the eighteenth of next month, wear this wedding dress, become Jiang Yuan's bride. But now, that future is gone." The mirror-person's smile held sadness. "So I'm trapped here, a bride forever unable to marry."
Chen Qing's heart clenched. "You mean... you're my future?"
"My former future," the mirror-person corrected. "Now, I am just a possibility. A discarded possibility."
"Then what should I do now?"
The mirror-person looked at her, her gaze suddenly sharp. "Do you want to take my place?"
"What?"
"Do you want to become me? To wear this wedding dress and complete that wedding?" The mirror-person leaned closer, almost pressing against the glass. "If you do, I can show you what that wedding would have been like."
Before Chen Qing could answer, the mirror surface rippled, spreading concentric circles like water.
Then, she saw.
She saw herself in the wedding dress, standing in an unfamiliar room. The room was dark, lit only by a few red candles. A red veil covered her head, and she held a bouquet.
The door opened, and someone walked in.
"Bride," a man's voice said. "It's time for the ceremony."
But it wasn't Jiang Yuan's voice.
Chen Qing tried to see the man's face, but the red veil blocked her view. She tried to lift the veil, but her hands wouldn't move.
She was trapped in that body, could only hear the man's footsteps getting closer, closer...
"No!" Chen Qing screamed herself awake.
She sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, her heart pounding thunderously.
Outside the window, dawn hadn't broken. The rain continued, lighter now.
Chen Qing grabbed her phone. The time: 3:18 AM.
She opened WeChat. Jiang Yuan's profile picture was still pinned at the top, but the last message in the chat, from three days ago, was his: "I'm sorry."
She stared at those words and suddenly laughed.
What good was sorry? Could sorry take back all the preparations? Could it erase her eight years of feelings?
She remembered the mirror-person's question in the dream: Do you want to become me?
She did.
She wanted to wear that wedding dress, stand before Jiang Yuan, let him see how beautiful she was, make him regret, make him suffer.
But she wanted to know even more: if that wedding had actually happened, what would have awaited her?
Part Two
Three days later, Chen Qing returned to the antique shop.
This time, the sky was clear. Sunlight bathed East Nanjing Road, glinting off the wet pavement.
The antique shop door was open. The old man sat behind the counter, making tea.
"Young lady, you've returned," he said with a smile, as if he'd known she would come.
"That mirror..." Chen Qing said directly. "I want it."
The old man set down the teapot and looked at her, his expression complex.
"Are you sure?"
"Sure."
"Do you know this mirror's history?"
"You said it was a Qing Dynasty dowry mirror."
"It's more than that," the old man sighed. "This mirror has a name: 'Mirror of the Heart.' It doesn't just reflect a person's appearance; it reflects their heart."
"What do you mean?"
"It can see the desires, fears, and secrets buried deep within you," the old man said. "And it can... manifest them."
Chen Qing's heart skipped a beat. "Manifest?"
"Yes. What you see, think, fear—all of it might, through this mirror, become real." The old man looked at her seriously. "So I ask you again, are you truly sure you want this mirror?"
Chen Qing thought of the dream, of her reflection in the mirror, of that uncompleted wedding.
"I'm sure," she said.
The old man was silent for a long time, then finally nodded.
"Since you insist, then it is yours." He stood and walked to the mirror. "But I must warn you of three things."
"First, do not look into the mirror at midnight. The mirror is most active during the hour of Zi (11 PM-1 AM). At that time, it can see far more than during the day."
"Second, do not make wishes before the mirror. The mirror may grant them, but the price may be more than you can bear."
"Third, if you see something in the mirror that you shouldn't, do not respond, do not communicate. Cover the mirror immediately."
The old man finished speaking, took a black cloth from under the counter, and draped it over the mirror.
"Remembered?"
Chen Qing nodded.
The old man had the mirror delivered to Chen Qing's home, refusing any payment. Before she left, he took her hand and said earnestly,
"Young lady, the mirror can reflect your heart, but it cannot make decisions for you. No matter what you see, remember: you are the master of your own life."
Looking into the old man's cloudy eyes, Chen Qing suddenly felt like crying.
But she held back.
She only said, "I understand. Thank you."
The mirror was placed in a corner of Chen Qing's bedroom, covered with the black cloth like a silent guard.
Chen Qing circled it several times, hesitating whether to uncover it.
Finally, she lifted the cloth.
The mirror surface gleamed dully in the sunlight. The cloud patterns were exquisitely carved, each line seeming alive, moving in the play of light and shadow.
Chen Qing stood before the mirror, looking at her reflection.
The reflection was identical to her real self: jeans, white T-shirt, no makeup, hair in a ponytail.
No wedding dress, no phoenix crown, no smile.
Just ordinary her.
Chen Qing sighed in relief, yet felt a tinge of disappointment.
She remembered the old man's words: the mirror reflects the heart.
So what was in her heart?
She stared into the mirror and suddenly spoke, "Can you see what's in my heart?"
The mirror did not respond.
Chen Qing smiled, feeling a bit silly. Talking to a mirror was like talking to air.
She was about to turn away when the mirror surface moved.
Not rippled—she in the mirror moved.
The reflection raised a hand, touched its own face, and then slowly, smiled.
That smile was identical to the one Chen Qing saw in the antique shop—beautiful, empty, like a marionette mechanically forming an expression.
Chen Qing's blood ran cold.
She hadn't moved, but her reflection had.
This was no ordinary mirror.
The mirror-person looked at her, lips moving as if speaking.
Chen Qing remembered the old man's warning: Do not respond, do not communicate.
She immediately grabbed the black cloth and threw it over the mirror.
But it was too late.
She had heard it.
The words the mirror-person spoke came clearly to her ears:
"Help me complete the wedding."
That night, Chen Qing couldn't sleep.
She lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, the mirror-person's words replaying in her mind.
Help me complete the wedding.
What wedding? With whom?
She remembered the dream, the unfamiliar room, the unfamiliar man.
She suddenly sat up, opened her phone, and searched for "Mirror of the Heart."
Online information about the mirror was scarce, mostly folk legends. But one post caught her attention.
The post was from ten years ago, titled: "I Bought a Mirror of the Heart at an Antique Market and Almost Lost My Life."
Chen Qing clicked and read carefully.
The poster said that after a breakup, she bought a Qing Dynasty bronze mirror at an antique market. At first, nothing was unusual, but one night, she said to the mirror, "I want to forget him."
The next day, she truly forgot her ex-boyfriend.
Not just forgot—completely forgot. His name, his face, their shared experiences—all gone.
She thought this was good, but soon realized something was wrong—she began forgetting other things.
She forgot friends' birthdays, forgot work arrangements, forgot the way home.
Her memories were disappearing bit by bit, as if being eaten by something.
Finally, she had to smash the mirror to stop the forgetting.
But even after smashing it, the lost memories didn't return.
At the end of the post, the poster wrote: "That mirror grants wishes, but the price is what you hold dearest. Never, ever make a wish before it."
Chen Qing finished reading, her palms sweaty.
She remembered the old man's second warning: Do not make wishes before the mirror.
But she hadn't made a wish. She had only asked a question.
Why did the mirror-person say, "Help me complete the wedding"?
A possibility occurred to her.
Perhaps the mirror-person wasn't her future, but... the mirror's previous owner.
A bride who died before her wedding was completed.
The next day, Chen Qing went back to the antique shop.
But the door was shut tight. The display window was empty; the bronze mirror and other antiques were gone.
She knocked. No answer.
She asked the neighboring shopkeeper, who said, "This shop? It's been closed for ages, at least half a year."
"Impossible," Chen Qing said. "I was here three days ago. The owner was there."
"Young lady, are you mistaken?" The shopkeeper looked at her strangely. "The owner of this shop passed away last year. It's been vacant since."
Chen Qing's mind buzzed.
She took out her phone, trying to find the shop's address or contact, but her search history held nothing.
She even began to wonder if the antique shop and the old man had ever really existed.
But the mirror was real.
It was in her home, under the black cloth, waiting for her.
Chen Qing decided to investigate the mirror's origins.
She took a photo of the mirror and posted it on various antique appraisal forums, asking if anyone knew its story.
Soon, someone replied.
A user named "Seeker of Ancient Objects" said: I've seen this mirror before.
Chen Qing immediately sent a private message.
"Where did you see it?"
"Ten years ago, I saw an identical mirror at an auction," the other person replied. "The starting bid was high, but it went unsold because of a legend attached to it."
"What legend?"
"The mirror's first owner was a young lady from a wealthy family in the late Qing Dynasty. Her surname was Lin, given name Wanyin. The day before her wedding, she was performing the 'opening the face' ritual before this mirror when she suddenly went mad."
"Mad?"
"Yes. She said there was a person in the mirror, a woman in wedding clothes, laughing at her. She said that woman wanted to steal her wedding, to kill her."
"What happened then?"
"Lin Wanyin really died. Died on the wedding bed, wearing her wedding dress, under the red veil. But the groom hadn't even entered the room; she was already dead."
Chen Qing's hand trembled.
"Cause of death?"
"Unknown. The coroner examined her. No external injuries, no signs of poisoning. It was as if... she died of fright."
"What about the mirror?"
"The Lin family sealed it away. But later, during the wars, the family declined, and the mirror found its way into the common folk. Over the past hundred years, it's said that every person who owned it met with misfortune."
"What kind of misfortune?"
"Some went mad, some disappeared, some... died." The other person sent an ellipsis. "So auction houses later blacklisted it, never auctioning it again. Where did you get this mirror?"
Chen Qing didn't answer, only asked, "Is there a way to get rid of it?"
The other person was silent for a long time before replying, "I don't know. But if it really is that mirror, I advise you to throw it away. As fast as you can."
Chen Qing looked at those words, then at the corner of the room where the black-cloth-covered mirror stood.
Throw it away?
But where?
And would the mirror-person let her?
Part Three
That night, Chen Qing moved the mirror to the living room, planning to discard it first thing in the morning.
She covered it with the black cloth, making sure no glass was visible, then returned to her bedroom to sleep.
But in the middle of the night, a sound woke her.
Laughter.
A woman's laughter, light and soft, as if from far away, yet also right beside her ear.
Chen Qing opened her eyes. The room was pitch black.
She fumbled for the bedside lamp and turned it on, then froze completely.
The mirror stood by her bed.
The black cloth was gone. The mirror faced her, glowing dimly.
In the mirror stood a person.
A woman in red wedding clothes, a red veil covering her head, motionless.
Chen Qing's heart felt like it would leap from her chest.
"Who are you?" she asked, trembling.
The mirror-person didn't answer, only slowly raised a hand and pointed at Chen Qing.
Then, she spoke.
"You promised to help me."
"I did not!" Chen Qing almost shouted.
"You did," the mirror-person's voice was calm. "You said you wanted to wear the wedding dress. You wanted to complete that wedding."
Chen Qing was stunned.
She remembered that night, the words she'd spoken to the mirror. She had said she wanted to wear the wedding dress, wanted Jiang Yuan to see how beautiful she was.
But that was just angry words, just venting! Not sincere!
"I didn't mean it..."
"But you said it," the mirror-person interrupted. "The mirror heard."
"Then what do you want me to do?" Chen Qing asked.
The mirror-person slowly lifted the red veil.
Chen Qing saw her face.
It was a beautiful face, with features like a painting, fair skin, but utterly bloodless, like a delicate porcelain doll.
"I want you to marry in my place," the mirror-person said.
"Marry whom?"
"Marry him." The mirror-person pointed into the depths of the mirror.
Chen Qing followed her finger and saw a vague shadow standing in the mirror's background.
A man, wearing a long robe, his face unclear.
"Who is he?"
"My groom," the mirror-person said. "A hundred years ago, I was supposed to marry him, but I died. So he has been waiting. Waiting for a hundred years."
"But... what does that have to do with me?"
"Because you and I are the same," the mirror-person said. "You are also a bride who did not complete her wedding. Your wedding date was the eighteenth of next month, but your groom left you. You and I are the same—both abandoned."
Chen Qing's tears suddenly fell.
The words "abandoned" were like a knife, stabbing deep into her heart.
"So," the mirror-person continued, "you should complete this wedding for me. You wear the wedding dress, the phoenix crown, step into the mirror, and perform the ceremony with him. Then, I will be free, and you... will be free too."
"What if I refuse?"
The mirror-person smiled, a smile cold enough to chill bones.
"Then I will make you become me."
As soon as the words were spoken, the mirror surface suddenly rippled violently, spreading wave-like circles.
Chen Qing felt a force pulling at her body, dragging her toward the mirror.
She tried to resist, but her body wouldn't obey, inch by inch, being drawn toward the glass.
"No! Let me go!"
Just as her fingers were about to touch the mirror, the room lights suddenly turned on.
The force vanished instantly. Chen Qing fell to the floor, gasping for air.
The mirror-person was also gone. The mirror only reflected her own terrified face.
Chen Qing scrambled up, grabbed the black cloth, threw it over the mirror, and ran out of the room.
She couldn't keep this mirror any longer.
She had to destroy it.
Early the next morning, Chen Qing found a hammer, ready to smash the mirror.
But as she raised the hammer, she hesitated.
Because she heard crying from within the mirror.
Soft, suppressed, like a woman weeping in despair.
"Please..." the mirror-person's voice came through. "Don't destroy it... This is my last hope..."
Chen Qing's hand stopped mid-air.
"Why are you trapped in the mirror?" she asked.
"Because I had no choice," the mirror-person said. "When I died, I was still wearing my wedding dress. I hadn't seen my groom. My soul was trapped in that identity, becoming an eternal bride, forever waiting, forever unable to marry."
"Then why don't you go find your groom?"
"I tried," the mirror-person's voice was tearful. "But he reincarnated long ago. He forgot me long ago. Only the mirror remembers. Only the him in the mirror is still waiting for me."
Chen Qing suddenly understood.
The blurry man in the mirror wasn't the real groom, just a shadow projected by the mirror, Lin Wanyin's own obsession.
She had been trapped in this mirror for a hundred years, forever performing a wedding that would never end with a phantom.
"So you want me to take your place?" Chen Qing asked.
"Yes," Lin Wanyin said. "As long as someone completes the wedding for me, I can be freed. Please... help me..."
Chen Qing looked at the mirror, a complex mix of emotions surging in her heart.
She understood Lin Wanyin's pain, understood that despair of being abandoned, trapped, unable to break free.
Because she had experienced it too.
But she couldn't agree.
Because she knew if she stepped into the mirror, she would become the next Lin Wanyin, trapped there forever, waiting for the next "bride" to replace her.
"I'm sorry," Chen Qing said. "I can't help you."
As soon as the words left her mouth, the mirror suddenly shook violently.
The black cloth was thrown off. Countless faces appeared on the mirror's surface, all Lin Wanyin's face, all crying, all shouting: "Help me! Help me!"
Chen Qing raised the hammer and smashed it hard against the mirror.
Crack! The mirror splintered.
Cracks spread from the center outward like a spider's web.
All the faces in the mirror vanished, leaving only shattered reflections.
Chen Qing struck a few more times until the mirror was completely broken, pieces scattering across the floor.
She dropped the hammer and collapsed to the floor, trembling all over.
But she knew it was over.
The mirror was broken. Lin Wanyin should be free too.
However, that night, Chen Qing had the dream again.
She wore the wedding dress, stood in that unfamiliar room, the red veil covering her head.
The door opened. Someone walked in.
"Bride," the man's voice said. "It's time for the ceremony."
Chen Qing tried to lift the veil, but her hands wouldn't move.
She was trapped in that body, could only hear the man's footsteps getting closer.
Then, she felt someone take her hand.
That hand was cold, icy to the bone, like the hand of a corpse.
"You've come," the man said. "I've waited a hundred years for you."
Chen Qing finally saw his face.
It was a decaying face, sunken eye sockets, grayish skin, a strange smile hanging at the corner of his mouth.
"NO!!!"
Chen Qing screamed herself awake.
She sat up in bed, drenched in sweat, heart pounding like thunder.
She felt for her phone, wanting to turn on the light, but the time displayed on the screen made her freeze completely.
3:18 AM.
Exactly the same time as that night.
She suddenly remembered something.
She had only smashed the mirror.
But Lin Wanyin was still here.
She looked up toward the corner of the room.
There stood a new mirror.
No, not new—the old mirror.
It was intact, without a single crack, as if it had never been smashed.
In the mirror, Lin Wanyin stood motionless in her wedding dress, the red veil over her head.
She slowly lifted the veil, revealing that pale face.
"You can't break it," she said. "Because the mirror isn't just a mirror. It's a passage. As long as I exist, it will always exist."
Chen Qing's voice trembled. "Then what should I do?"
"There's only one way," Lin Wanyin said. "Complete the wedding."
"I won't!"
"Then you will never escape," Lin Wanyin smiled. "Every night, you will have the same dream until you go mad, or... die. Just like I did."
Chen Qing stared at her and suddenly asked, "Do you truly want to be free?"
Lin Wanyin paused. "What do you mean?"
"If you truly want freedom, why look for a replacement? Why not let go?" Chen Qing said. "What traps you isn't the mirror. It's yourself."
Lin Wanyin's expression changed. "What do you know! Do you know what it feels like to be abandoned? Do you know what it's like to wait a hundred years and get nothing?"
"I do know," Chen Qing said. "Because I was abandoned too. But I won't trap myself in the past like you."
"Then what will you do?"
"I will move forward," Chen Qing said. "I will let go of that uncompleted wedding, let go of the person who left me, let go of all the regrets and pain."
She stood up and walked to the mirror.
"Lin Wanyin, you should let go too."
The mirror-person looked at her, tears suddenly streaming down.
"I... I can't let go..."
"Then I'll help you," Chen Qing said.
She took a deep breath and spoke to the mirror: "I wish for Lin Wanyin to be free. For her to forget that wedding, forget that groom, forget all the pain."
The mirror surface rippled violently again.
Lin Wanyin's figure began to blur. Her wedding dress faded, her face disappeared.
"No... don't... I don't want to forget him..." she cried.
"You must forget," Chen Qing said. "Only by forgetting can you start anew."
Lin Wanyin looked at her, tears flowing harder.
Finally, she smiled—a bitter smile, yet also one of release.
"Thank you," she said.
Then, she vanished.
The mirror vanished too.
In the room, only Chen Qing remained, bathed in moonlight.
Epilogue
One month later, the day that should have been Chen Qing's wedding.
She didn't wear a wedding dress, didn't go to a hotel. Instead, she went to the seaside alone.
She stood by the sea, watching the waves crash against the rocks, watching the sun slowly rise.
Her phone rang. A message from Jiang Yuan: "I'm sorry. Today should have been our big day. Are you okay?"
Chen Qing looked at the message, thought for a moment, and replied: "I'm fine. Thank you for your decision back then. It kept us both from entering a mistaken marriage."
After sending it, she deleted Jiang Yuan's contact.
Then, she took a photo of the sunrise and posted a moment on social media:
"A new beginning."
The sea breeze blew in, carrying a salty scent.
Chen Qing closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She suddenly remembered Lin Wanyin's last words before disappearing that night:
"If there is a next life, I must learn to love myself first, before loving others."
Chen Qing opened her eyes and smiled.
"Me too," she said to the sea.
In the distance, the sun had fully risen. Golden light spread across the sea's surface, glittering like scattered gold.
All the past pains, the uncompleted weddings, the trapped souls—in this moment, they were all illuminated by the light, gently let go.
The End