My Jinxed Mouth Life: A Life of Cultivation Where Words Come True

Me—to put it nicely, I’m someone whose “words come true”; to put it bluntly, I’m an out-and-out jinxed mouth.

Because this mouth is just too jinxed, and as event after event came true, I felt myself becoming more and more careful with my words. Over time, my whole person seemed to have the mute button pressed, becoming taciturn.

Don’t get me wrong—this isn’t because I suddenly fell in love with the reclusive air of a literary youth, but for the sake of world peace (and my own heart health).

Thinking back on those years, my jinxed mouth was practically equipped with a prophecy cheat, working every single time.

Once, while hiking with friends, the clouds were churning and the sky was gloomy, and I casually said: “I feel like lightning is going to strike beside us.”

The moment the words left my mouth, there was a boom, and a bolt of lightning struck a tree not far away with pinpoint accuracy, sparks flying everywhere, just like a scene from a special-effects movie.

My friends stared wide-eyed, still shaken, while I silently swore to myself: never open my mouth on a hike again.

Another time, while traveling independently abroad, I was leaning on the windowsill of a guesthouse, idly gazing at the sky, when a plane happened to streak across the blue. At that moment, for some reason, my brain short-circuited, and I blurted out inexplicably: “This plane looks a bit unstable, feels like it’s going to crash.”

At the time, the people around me even laughed at me for being neurotic—but the next day, the news headlines prominently reported that the plane really had an accident!

Sitting in front of the TV, my coffee cup nearly slipped from my hand, and I thought: damn, is this mouth getting more and more powerful?

Things like this are too numerous to count. Every time I casually say “this feels a bit ominous,” reality, like a loyal executor hearing an order, obediently fulfills my “prophecy.”

My friends went from teasing at first, to half-believing, and now the moment I open my mouth, they all cast me a collective look of “please shut up.”

I’m helpless too—who wants to be a walking disaster-warning machine? I can only, when I occasionally accidentally “let it slip,” pray that this time it won’t come true again.