With everything ready, Qi Zhimu officially began the clinical trial.
While checking the integrity of his own mories and performing a digital backup, he discovered a surprising fact.
"My mories... are actually partially incomplete?"
Viewed from a digital perspective, the traces of artificially sealed residual cross-sections were quite obvious.
Who had tampered with his mories?
Qi Zhimu paused his actions for a mont, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
A mokeeper from the Garden of Recollection, or a Cremator?
Unable to find many clues, Qi Zhimu didn't dwell on it too much. Instead, he took this opportunity to try and restore that portion of sealed mories.
The entire process was unexpectedly smooth.
As everything returned to him, a shadow fell over Qi Zhimu's face... The next morning.
Qi Zhimu slowly opened his eyes.
A sharp pain radiated from deep within his brain, quickly dispelling any lingering sleepiness.
Scanning his surroundings, he felt a sense of strangeness.
What happened yesterday... I went to the back mountain for cultivation, it rained suddenly, Clarice ca with an umbrella, and then... Ms. Durand's treatnt session ended. After leaving dical instructions for her, I conducted the clinical trial myself.
Yes, that was it.
But why... did his subconscious feel like sothing was missing?
What were the results of the experint, and why did his head hurt?
When did he co to the window?
Looking down, there were several wine jars used for storing plum blossom brew beside him.
The jars were now empty, scattered ssily across the floor.
The familiar type of chinese lute lay by his side; it was originally supposed to be hanging on the wall.
Qi Zhimu picked up the empty jars one by one and sniffed them... They were all of the highest vintage. Drinking this much, one would definitely pass out drunk.
Sothing wasn't right.
He had always been self-disciplined. Even if the clinical trial results were unsatisfactory, it was impossible for him to drown his sorrows in alcohol.
"Hmm?"
Qi Zhimu moved his wrist, only then realizing his other hand was clutching a piece of paper. The handwriting was incredibly familiar.
It was written by his own hand.
"The clinical trial was successfully completed. Ms. Durand's amnesia can be completely cured."
Qi Zhimu was certain this was indeed his handwriting, but why had he written it down, and why did he have no mory of writing it?
He knew even less why he had to use this thod to remind himself.
Staring at that line of text, Qi Zhimu discovered there was more on the back.
Turning his wrist, he took in every single word.
"This is..."
It was still his handwriting, but the content seed like... unfinished lyrics?
He stared at the lyrics in a daze for a mont, then suddenly took up the type of chinese lute, playing a lody he had composed in the past and humming softly.
The lyrics and the music blended together seamlessly.
"As expected, I wrote this too..."
As Qi Zhimu tried to recall when this lody was born, another sharp pain shot through his mind.
The specific date was quite blurred.
"A long ti ago, was I not yet finished with my apprenticeship then...?"
Qi Zhimu continued to play and sing, his body and mind gradually sinking into the lingering sorrow within the song.
Until he reached the missing part of the chorus, the line he blurted out without thinking caused the lody to co to an abrupt halt.
"..."
He was stunned.
He hadn't even thought about it, so how could he naturally fill in the missing line?
Looking at the last few lines of the lyrics, Qi Zhimu realized there were still three lines missing.
Try again.
The lody rose again.
"Drunkenly guarding the world, I dare ask if you know?"
The lyrics should have ended there, but Qi Zhimu didn't hesitate for a mont, completing the remaining fragnts in one go.
"In this life, looking back suddenly, waiting through life and death, are you willing to stay together..."
"Sighing that the depth of feeling is known, love finally ends in hand-in-hand..."
The song ended.
Qi Zhimu stared at the instrunt in his hand, silently savoring the feeling for a long ti.
His teacher was skilled in many instrunts—flute, zither, harp, lute... but had a special fondness for the Ruan.
Under Qi Zhimu's constant exposure and his diligent practice during leisure ti outside of his research, he was able to play alongside his ntor without falling behind.
For so many years, whether playing the masterpieces of predecessors or his own original compositions, they were always in the style his teacher liked.
But this song he was playing now... was filled with a heart-wrenching regret, and revolved around the word 'love'.
"The last three lines of lyrics I filled in are clearly quite different from the aning of the previous words, slightly deviating from the central the, yet..."
"...they are unexpectedly fitting?"
How could he... how could he have unconsciously created such a song?
This was not the style Ruan i liked.
The sense of strangeness that kept hitting his heart made Qi Zhimu increasingly confused.
Why were the mories forgotten?
Knowing he would forget, why did he leave a reminder for himself?
Or perhaps, people from certain Path factions had made a move against him?
Qi Zhimu hung the type of chinese lute back up and walked back to the treatnt room to look for any possible clues.
Unexpectedly, on the control console of the device used to treat amnesia, there were words in black and white.
"Advice for myself: do not seek out the forgotten mories. On the day your life ends, all mories will return as scheduled."
Qi Zhimu tore off the paper and checked the other facilities; everything was normal.
He pulled up the clinical trial records from last night to review, and they were also completely normal, consistent with the conclusion in his brain.
As of now, it was enough to cure Durand's amnesia with a ninety percent success rate.
The remaining ten percent was reserved for risks that had not yet been overco.
Before the day promised to Clarice arrived, this ten percent risk would surely be eliminated.
Thinking of this, Qi Zhimu chose to listen to his yesterday-self and no longer sought out the temporarily forgotten mories.
He only needed to wait.
"Cough, cough..."
Waves of weakness swept through his body from every part.
Qi Zhimu's appearance aged rapidly, his head of black hair turning gray-white. With a heavy cough, he spat out so blood.
As an elderly Short-Lived Species, his body's organs would fail and age simultaneously.
The closer he got to his final day, the weaker his functions beca.
"It seems... I need to take the dicine twice a day now to maintain myself."
Dragging his weak body to the encrypted safe, he took out two pills and swallowed them.
"When it cos to the last thirty days of life, taking four pills a day will probably increase to six..."
Qi Zhimu sighed inwardly. He hesitated for a mont, but this ti he didn't put the dicine back in the safe.
He had finally reached the stage where he needed to carry it with him to prevent ergencies.
Yu Qintu wanted to see him and could co and go as she pleased.
Once she learned the true situation, even if she didn't do anything, she would likely notify Ruan i.
Qi Zhimu didn't want his remains after death to beco one of the fuels for his ntor to step into the abyss.
He couldn't stop his teacher, but at least... he could choose not to add fuel to the fire.
As the dicine took effect, he returned to his youthful appearance once more... As the days passed, the rhythm of Qi Zhimu's life continued as usual.
The frequency of Clarice's visits increased slightly; he would see her every few days.
The bigger change was that sotis when he played the type of chinese lute, he would unconsciously switch to the lody of that song and start singing along.
With three days left until Durand's follow-up appointnt, just as the sky was beginning to brighten, Qi Zhimu woke from a light sleep.
He picked up Little Orange, who was sleeping soundly on his chest, and gently placed the cat into the warm covers.
He got out of bed for a simple wash, took the dicine to maintain his youthful appearance, and glanced out the window.
Falling snow had arrived quietly in the night, dressing all living things in silver makeup.
"It arrived a few days earlier than in previous years."
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