Ning Su retracted his fingers, staring blankly at Ling Xiao.
So, this instance really was targeting Ling Xiao.
From the very first night he entered the instance, it began devouring his memories on a massive scale.
Zhou Xiang’s memories were completely consumed in about ten hours, and Shi Tianzhu’s in around three days.
Ling Xiao’s memories had been consumed for fifteen days now.
How much was left?
He had already scored zero on the comprehensive humanities exam.
Ning Su’s fingertips trembled, and his heart pounded unsteadily.
He was shocked, panicked, and overwhelmed with a guilt he couldn’t articulate.
He had been concerned about Shi Tianzhu, paid attention to Zhou Xiang, the NPCs, and all the other players who had lost their memories—yet he hadn’t noticed that Ling Xiao was also losing his memory.
Fifteen days.
He had been losing his memory for fifteen days, all alone, with no one noticing.
And besides, the reason this instance might have targeted Ling Xiao in the first place could very well be because of him.
The system wanted Ling Xiao to kill him. But Ling Xiao, apathetic and uncooperative, had refused to do so. The system must have detected something unusual and decided to erase Ling Xiao’s memories.
The classroom buzzed with activity during the morning self-study period as test papers were handed out. Students whispered to each other, exchanged glances over their papers, and discussed their scores.
The floating dust in the morning sunlight was pressed down by the rustling papers. On the off-white pages, the black text appeared harsh and blurry in the haloed light.
Ning Su leaned on Ling Xiao’s desk and asked him, “Do you still remember me?”
The boy was bathed in the morning light, his clear, beautiful almond-shaped eyes glowing softly. Yet within them lay a faint trace of unease.
If this expression were on someone less composed, it might look like he was about to cry.
Ling Xiao said, “I didn’t remember you yesterday.”
Even though his memories were fragmented and incomplete, there was still too much to lose. Since the night he entered the instance, his memories had started vanishing—sometimes not just one specific time period per day. Recently, events from the past year might disappear from his mind within minutes.
He truly didn’t remember who the boy in front of him was.
Ning Su pressed his lips together. “Yet you still waited for me to go to the exam hall together, came to the classroom with me, and even said you didn’t score as well as I did.”
Ling Xiao tugged at his tie, then glanced at Ning Su’s chest—right where the tie of his school uniform shirt rested.
Ning Su understood.
He turned around and lowered his head, staring at the table, seemingly doing nothing. After a few minutes, he turned back and asked, “Don’t you feel anything else about your memory loss? Like other players—fear, panic, loneliness, sadness, confusion, or hopelessness?”
Looking back on the past half-month, Ning Su could only recall that Ling Xiao had been speaking less and less. He remembered how Ling Xiao comforted him on the first night, saying memory loss wasn’t a big deal, and how Ling Xiao agreed without hesitation when the dean asked him to go to the Reflection Hall.
These might be signs of memory loss.
But beyond that, Ning Su couldn’t see anything unusual. Ling Xiao’s face revealed nothing, and he stayed by Ning Su’s side as usual, just like always.
Ling Xiao looked at him with a hint of surprise, his gaze lingering as if his empty mind was trying to process something. “I think I’ve already gotten used to it.”
He had grown accustomed to memory loss—so there was no panic, no loneliness, and no sadness.
Because of this habit, when the boy asked if he ever felt lonely or scared, Ling Xiao was surprised.
His chest, hollow as it was, now trembled faintly with an indescribable feeling.
Ning Su turned his head again.
Ling Xiao stared at the back of his head for a moment, then began stacking his test papers one by one and placed them to the left. He continued sketching on the scratch paper.
Ning Su was struck by Ling Xiao’s words, “I think I’ve already gotten used to it.”
When Ning Su first met Ling Xiao, his memory was already fragmented and incomplete.
Ning Changfeng had encountered Ling Xiao in a dungeon. Shi Tianzhu saw Ling Xiao as soon as she entered the game base. Ling Xiao had existed in the infinite game for an unknown amount of time, perhaps losing his memories to it more than once.
That’s likely why he’d grown used to it—why his memories were so fragmented and chaotic.
Before meeting Ning Changfeng, it seemed Ling Xiao hadn’t had many friends either.
Ning Su couldn’t imagine how he had endured the memory loss in the past.
Now Ning Su finally understood what Ling Xiao had meant that night when Zhou Xiang lost his memory and Ling Xiao said, “It’s nothing to lose your memory.”
He paused for a moment, rubbed his stiff face, and turned back around, only to see Ling Xiao drawing.
Ling Xiao had forgotten him. He had forgotten everything he had ever known. Right now, he probably remembered nothing at all. Ning Su was curious about what Ling Xiao was drawing and what he could create under these circumstances.
He didn’t say a word, simply watching him in silence.
When Ning Su looked over, Ling Xiao had already filled an A4 sheet of paper with a gray, hazy scene.
It was like casually taking a pencil and scribbling aimlessly on white paper, one cluster after another, without much technical skill, yet appearing somewhat abstract.
This was probably the kind of world that existed in the mind of someone who had lost all their memories—a blank slate of chaos.
Ning Su didn’t understand it at first. Not until Ling Xiao switched his pencil for a red ballpoint pen and, on that murky, indistinguishable draft, carefully drew a rose in an unremarkable corner.
Ning Su’s heart gave a sharp jolt, and suddenly, he understood what this grayish haze represented.
It was the chaotic universe of Ling Xiao’s world.
Those indistinct clusters were dim nebulae.
The words Ling Xiao had said before changing his tie in the restroom echoed once again in Ning Su’s mind:
“Sorry, I don’t know how to describe it. It’s probably like... a rose quietly blooming in an infinite, chaotic universe. I’m afraid I’ll forget what it looks like.”
Ning Su’s heart pounded wildly, uncontrollably racing with a heavy, powerful rhythm that he couldn’t suppress.
Seemingly sensing his heartbeat, Ling Xiao stopped drawing, looked at the spot over Ning Su’s heart, and then raised his gaze to his face.
Ning Su grasped his hand. The dampness of his palm seeped onto the dry back of Ling Xiao’s hand. He opened his mouth several times before finally speaking.
“Ling Xiao, I’ll definitely help you recover your memories—all of them.”
Ling Xiao’s fingers, held within Ning Su’s grip, twitched slightly. He looked at Ning Su with a hint of confusion and nodded. “Don’t overwork yourself.”
Ning Su couldn’t help but laugh through his tears.
Ling Xiao always kept his books in the compartments of his desk and to his left; never in front of him.
Turning around, Ning Su leaned over Ling Xiao’s desk, picked up a black pen, and carefully wrote his own name over the rose Ling Xiao had just drawn, smiling as he did so.
The sunlight fell on his squinting eyes, casting a layer of bright satisfaction.
After some thought, he picked up a yellow watercolor pen and drew a radiant sun.
Ling Xiao, who hadn’t reacted when Ning Su wrote his name, frowned slightly at the yellow addition. “That’s not how it’s supposed to be.”
“It’s the sun,” Ning Su explained. “The universe is supposed to have a sun.”
He added a blue planet, a reddish-brown nebula, and gradually transformed the dull gray universe with vibrant colors, creating a lively atmosphere.
Ning Su pushed the newly colored universe toward Ling Xiao and said, “I want your universe to look like this.”
A single rose blooming in an infinite, chaotic universe was certainly moving, but Ning Su hoped even more that Ling Xiao’s universe wouldn’t remain a dull and chaotic gray—it should be lively and colorful like this.
Ling Xiao lowered his gaze and looked at the painting, the once-blank eyes now reflecting vibrant colors.
Thank you sm for the chapters!!! (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*.✧
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