The Back Mountain.
The automaton carried a bamboo basket, holding a bamboo knife.
Every ti it passed a plum tree, it would stop, precisely selecting the plumpest and best-colored plum blossoms on the branches, lightly plucking them and placing them in the basket.
This scene was deeply familiar to Ruan i.
The automaton, driven by Qi Zhimu's mories, perford every action, replicating Qi Zhimu's year after year during his lifeti.
Following behind, watching everything unfold, she stood there in a daze.
Qi Zhimu's mory backup from his lifeti was incomplete.
After successfully curing Durand of her amnesia, he no longer required clinical trials or connection to the healing apparatus, naturally aning there were no subsequent mory backups.
The mories possessed by the automaton also did not include the ti that followed.
To know what he was thinking in his final monts before his departure—was it ultimately just a vain hope? The automaton's silhouette almost perfectly overlapped with the figure in her mories, yet Ruan i only felt unfamiliarity, even a stinging pain.
She finally understood why Yu Qintu had said those words back then.
No matter how similar the appearance, it lacked Qi Zhimu's soul.
But still... this soulless automaton had consistently executed the primary directive for hundreds of years.
It had never failed its creator.
And what about her?
Ruan i's gaze grew sorrowful.
That promise to take responsibility for AMu had long been tossed aside.
Not only was it completely forgotten, but all the bla had been shifted onto him.
The greatest sorrow is the death of the heart.
Qi Zhimu stripping away his most profound mories twice—was that any different from enduring the cruelest punishnt in the world?
The cause of all this bitter fruit, from beginning to end, was herself!
She personally created the beginning, yet personally buried everything, drawing a period to that ti they spent together.
Her gaze fell again on the automaton picking plum blossoms ahead, and Ruan i felt all her strength drain away.
A thought uncontrollably burrowed into her heart—
If Qi Zhimu hadn't created it before he died, would she have known all this sooner?
No... even if she had known, what could have changed?
From the mont the automaton was activated, nothing could be salvaged.
Ruan i stepped up the stone steps, her pace heavy.
In a haze, she seed to see past scenes materialize before her.
A boy whose height barely reached her shoulder followed beside her, walking step by step toward the mountaintop.
Ruan i blinked instinctively; the space ahead was empty.
Disappointnt silently spread from the depths of her heart.
Unknowingly, she reached the summit, and a scene she had never witnessed unfolded before her eyes.
Sunlight poured down from the horizon, filtering through the red and white mingling plum branches, casting mottled pale colors onto the unlted snow.
No wind, no rain, and the snow had temporarily ceased.
Just a few more steps forward, and she could rge into this tranquil and peaceful panorama.
Many years ago, there were only a few plum trees here.
It was during the hundred years after Qi Zhimu returned to his holand that he transford this winter mountaintop into a sea of blossoms.
Flowers have a day to bloom again; he will never be young again.
Ruan i's gaze wandered aimlessly, suddenly fixing on one spot.
mories sealed for hundreds of years surged violently, allowing her to recognize that plum tree.
It was one she had planted herself, and it was still alive.
Both Qi Zhimu and the automaton he left behind had cared for the plum tree exceptionally well.
Seeing the object brought back mories; fragnted monts of their daily life together flashed uncontrollably through her mind, and a dull ache quietly drilled into her heart.
"...That is..."
Ruan i's somber expression tightened as her gaze locked onto that old plum tree.
A stone tablet stood alone beneath the tree.
Snow covered the base, but the inscriptions on the tablet face were clearly legible.
[Tomb of Qi Zhimu]
Ruan i's breath hitched.
She shuffled closer, the snow beneath her feet emitting a faint cracking sound.
Besides those five characters, there was nothing else on the tablet face.
No birth or death dates, no brief account of his life—so clean it was heartbreakingly sad.
The automaton approached the tablet and reached out to brush away the thin layer of snow accumulated on its edge.
Ruan i looked at it, then at the tablet, and a question burst out.
"...Did he ask you to erect it?"
"No, the stone tablet was erected by Miss Black Swan."
"Black Swan... is that Clarice?"
"Yes, before Qi Zhimu passed away, he entrusted Miss Black Swan with the request to bury him beneath this plum tree."
Ruan i froze on the spot.
She couldn't help but speculate, couldn't help but pray.
Did choosing the spot beneath the plum tree she planted as his final resting place an that AMu still harbored love for her in his heart?
That he couldn't forget her, even until death?
AMu never hated her, even when he died... was that it?
The mountain was silent.
Ruan i slowly bent down, reaching out to touch the cold surface of the tablet.
The chill pierced through her fingertips, yet it was nothing compared to the void spreading in her heart.
For six hundred years, she thought she had only temporarily lost a student.
She believed that once she reached the end of her pursuit, she could simply go and bring him back.
Only now, standing before this monunt, did she understand—
What she lost was an irreplaceable person who took everything about her, even her casually spoken words, and solemnly integrated them into the trajectory of his life.
AMu only left her a plate of Preserved Plum Soybean Cake that had once been forgotten, a loyal automaton executing its orders.
And... this stone tablet.
The mountain wind had risen quietly at so point, passing through the plum grove and shaking a few petals from the branches.
The automaton picked up the bamboo basket again and turned toward the next plum tree, continuing its plucking work.
Ruan i stood before the tablet for a long ti, whispering softly.
"AMu..."
The wind swept through the plum branches, rustling softly, but no one answered.
Only that automaton, not too far away, continued to execute the mission assigned to it as always.
Plucking blossoms, guarding the forest.
Year after year.
Ruan i took out the plate of Preserved Plum Soybean Cake, picked up a piece, and put it in her mouth, not caring if it had spoiled, and slowly chewed.
The familiar taste, spanning hundreds of years, spread across her tongue, awakening the warst mories deep in her taste buds.
It was exactly the sa as the one AMu made when he was 18...
But why... did eating it feel completely different from back then?
Emotions suppressed for centuries without her knowledge, coupled with the irreversible fact of Qi Zhimu's death, completely shattered her emotional defenses.
That emotion she had never felt before—regret—scorched her heart, drowning out all excuses she could use for self-deception.
"..."
Ruan i had never shed a single tear when her parents passed away or when her grandmother went missing.
She always told herself that tears could not change anything.
But at this mont, clear tears slid down her face, which was shrouded in deep shadow.
One after another, they splashed onto the accumulated snow before the tablet, lting small, deep marks.
She finally could no longer escape.
It turned out, she was not without tears.
It was just that those tears required a sufficiently long ti to accumulate for one person.
Ruan i looked at the cold stone tablet, feeling as if she could see through it to the young man who had always quietly accompanied her.
Regret?
It was more than just regret.
Should she hate herself for being slow-witted, hate herself for being arrogant, or hate herself for failing to recognize his silent companionship sooner?
She missed the latter half of AMu's life.
AMu departed carrying a deep, unspoken love, yet he left an eternal mark on the rest of her life.
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