Zhou Xiang handed a notebook to Ning Su, saying, “I’m sorry. I was supposed to be a great research subject, but because of my selfishness, I was unwilling to make things public, and so many clues were lost.”
He tried to keep his voice steady but couldn’t hide a trace of grief. “Ning Su, I feel like I won’t last much longer.”
He spoke with sadness, “I might soon forget everything and become an empty shell. Just now, at the restroom door, I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“I’m afraid there’s not much time left, so I hurried to give you this notebook. It records all the changes I’ve experienced. As long as I still have human consciousness, I’ll keep recording.”
Ning Su opened the notebook.
Zhou Xiang said, “In here, I’ve also written down memories that were beautiful to me.”
In a soft, pleading voice, he added, “Ning Su, I can’t bear to let them just disappear from this world. Could you help me remember them?”
As he was about to lose his memory, Zhou Xiang realized that a large part of life was made up of memories—the bitter, the sweet, the painful, and the beautiful.
Some memories were like the fruits of life, the “children” of one’s life, and after one “died,” it’s hard to let them disappear from the world.
“As long as someone remembers, they haven’t disappeared; at least they have a place to be stored.”
Zhou Xiang wiped his face, smiling so much that tears nearly came out. “Actually, a lot of what’s recorded here, I’ve already forgotten at this moment.”
Ning Su pressed his lips together and flipped to the back, where half a page was filled with pinyin and characters replaced by drawings.
—He had already forgotten how to write many of the characters.
This morning, Ning Su turned his head several times, only to see him leaning over the desk, writing something.
He didn’t even lift his head while writing.
It was as if he was racing against a memory-devouring monster, desperately jotting down the memories he wanted to keep.
But gradually, it became harder; he even began to forget how to write many words.
As the memory of knowledge and skills faded, his intelligence and ability to think also declined. He didn’t know how to describe the feeling of coming out of the dungeon together with Lu Yue.
He raised his head blankly, glanced at the sunlight outside the window, squinted his eyes, and drew a bright sun in the notebook where his writing got stuck.
The further back it went, the less coherent it became, with more pinyin and drawings.
What had been written in Chinese characters on the previous page turned into pinyin on the next.
But from beginning to end, there were two words that he wrote smoothly and firmly.
Lu Yue.
Ning Su: “You’re not saying it because you’re afraid Lu Yue will find out, right? Why don’t you tell him?”
Zhou Xiang: “Don’t let him know, I’m afraid...”
He didn’t finish what he was afraid of, perhaps because there was too much to fear.
Zhou Xiang: “Just let me have one more day of a normal image in his mind, at least while I’m still conscious, while I can still remember what he looks like, so that in his eyes, what he sees is not a foolish, empty shell.”
“Actually, at the moment when I almost couldn’t recognize you, I was terrified, terrified that someday I wouldn’t even recognize Lu Yue anymore.”
“Someone I like so much, but I wouldn’t know him anymore—it’s better to be dead.”
“But I can’t die, I absolutely cannot die. I have to hold on, no matter what I become, I can’t die...”
Ning Su turned to the very front of the notebook.
[Three hours since first noticing memory loss: I forgot everything I memorized last night, and even the English words that used to be in my mind are gone, except for the most commonly used ones. My math is probably at a middle school level.]
[It starts with losing knowledge-based memories, beginning with the shallowest ones.]
[Four hours: I can’t understand the textbooks anymore, only the Chinese language textbook makes sense. As long as I keep my head down and don’t look the teacher in the eye, they won’t notice.]
[Five hours: I started losing memories from before entering the game base, forgetting former friends and classmates, but I still remember my parents.]
[It seems to start from the shallowest memories, or you could say it starts with the least important ones.]
[Six hours in: My memory started to blur after entering the game base, as if it were covered by a layer of fog. I’m starting to forget the first dungeon I entered. Maybe it was called <Snake>?]
[Seven hours in: I slept for a while. It seems like my memory loss slowed down a bit. I’m starting to forget the players who didn’t greet me in the game.]
[Eight hours in: I’m starting to forget how to write certain characters. I can still recognize them, but I can’t write them out.]
[As long as I can still remember, I’ll add more about the feeling of memory loss. At first, it’s like there’s just a thin layer of mosaic covering everything, like a faint fog. If you try hard enough, or if someone mentions something, you can recall it. But if it’s something important, you have to write it down immediately, otherwise, the mosaic will be erased like it was wiped away by an eraser.]
Zhou Xiang said that as long as he was conscious, he would continue to record his condition in this notebook to show them.
As they left the lakeside and walked back, Ning Su felt that there was no need to give him the notebook anymore.
He might not even be able to remember how to use it.
As they were nearing the restaurant, Ning Su still slipped the small palm-sized notebook into Zhou Xiang’s school pants pocket.
“This is something very important and precious to you,” Ning Su said to him.
Zhou Xiang opened his mouth blankly, nodding like an older child, “Ah!”
Many players in the restaurant were still anxiously engrossed in studying. As soon as they walked in, Lu Yue looked up at them.
Zhou Xiang immediately broke into a bright smile, “Lu Yue!”
[The first dungeon I entered with Lu Yue was a realistic role-playing one.]
[How realistic was it? We played as children living in an orphanage, waiting to be adopted. Not only did our bodies turn into those of children, but even our minds and emotions reverted to when we were four or five years old.]
[Looking back now, that memory is even clearer in my mind than my actual memories from when I was four years old.]
[In the dungeon, those who adopted us were demons. They would abuse and kill us at midnight. The four of us were adopted by a middle-aged couple living in a villa.]
[To escape the final torture, a kind maid hid me in the drum of a washing machine.]
[Once the washing machine lid was closed, it was pitch black inside, surrounded by dirty clothes and sticky detergent.]
[It seemed like the maid forgot about me. I didn’t know where she went, maybe she managed to escape.]
[I stayed inside, growing more and more terrified.]
[Hearing the approaching footsteps, I was scared of being discovered, but I was also afraid someone might start the washing machine.]
[Listening to the sound of them running outside and closing the door, I panicked. I felt like they had all escaped, leaving me alone in that terrifying villa.]
[In the dark, cramped washing machine drum, I hugged my knees tightly, growing more and more afraid and desperate, tears dripping onto the back of my hand.]
[There was a sound approaching again, and I trembled, burying my head into my knees.]
[There was the sound of a stool being moved, as if someone was picking it up and walking towards me, getting closer step by step.]
[The footsteps stopped beside the washing machine.]
[The washing machine door was flung open.]
[Despairingly, I lifted my head, waiting for the terrifying, bloodthirsty smile of my demonic foster father.]
[In the blurry halo of light, I saw four-year-old Lu Yue smiling at me, reaching out his hands.]
[Sunlight streamed into the dark washing machine drum from behind him, his eyes curved into crescents as he smiled, looking like a gentle little angel.]
[Was this something that happened to me when I was four years old?]
Thanks for the update!! 💔💔💔
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