Chapter 61: Non-existent Memory?

The crisp sound of nine-centimeter stiletto heels hitting the marble floor pierced the silence of the corridor.
Song Yingxue’s neatly tailored pearl-gray suit cast a cold, sharp reflection on the glass curtain wall.

The central air conditioning vent on the 28th floor of the AXE building was hissing with cold air, and the LCD screen of the intelligent temperature control system showed a constant 22 degrees Celsius.

“Director Song, the Shanhe Group…”
A small assistant holding a tablet hurried to catch up, the newcomer’s logo on the hem of her suit skirt still stained with coffee.

“I’ll go talk to them.”
Song Yingxue walked to the office door, and the gilt-gold door handle reflected her tense jawline.
“We are their supplier.
No matter what, they won’t dare to tear our faces.”

Some time ago, during the Lin’an University incident, someone had used the AXE Group’s logistics system to send a demon to Lin’an University.
Although they had managed to get the Demon Suppression Division to drop the matter through high-level maneuvering, that Ye Zi from the Demon Suppression Division was still secretly causing trouble.

This had caused some minor trouble for the group’s operations.
As a high-level executive of the group, Song Yingxue was also somewhat at a loss with this Ye Zi.

She sighed and opened the door.
The residual warmth of the fingerprint verification on the gilt-gold door handle had not yet dissipated.
The sunlight leaking through the gaps in the blinds suddenly split her pupils like a blade—a tall man’s figure was standing in front of the floor-to-ceiling window with his back to the door.

“Boss?”

Her high heels suddenly slipped on the edge of the carpet, and her carefully manicured nails dug into the wood grain of the doorframe.
The intelligent security system that had just been installed in this office three months ago had no warning.
The thermostat she had personally turned off this morning was now showing a low temperature of 18 degrees Celsius.

“I heard that the group has been in some trouble recently.”
The man’s Italian handmade leather shoes crushed the Persian carpet, and the light spots refracted by the cufflinks of his custom-made suit trembled in Song Yingxue’s pupils.

“Yes, there was a loophole in the logistics system, and there’s also Experimental Subject No. 7…”

“Has Qian Mian been in contact with the board of directors recently?”
The brass paperweight the man was playing with suddenly “clicked” on the solid wood desk.
The city skyline, forty stories high, became a blurry background behind him.
“It seems that there are a few more meddling sparrows on the board of directors while I was away.”

“I’m sorry! It’s my lack of supervision!”

Song Yingxue’s back molars bit down hard on the soft flesh of her mouth.
The illusory smell of blood, mixed with the smell of cologne and aged tobacco, drilled into her nasal cavity.
That tea-haired woman had taken advantage of the boss’s absence to make a deal with many of the board members.

“Who is in charge of the operation to retrieve Experimental Subject No. 7?”

“The director of the STRB department, Dr. Luo.”

“Night Owl.”
As the boss’s words fell, the electronic screen of the Northern Song “A Thousand Miles of Rivers and Mountains” suddenly flickered with static.
A figure of indeterminate gender walked out from behind Qianlong’s imperial inscription.

The hairs on the back of Song Yingxue’s neck stood on end—before this, she had not noticed that there was anyone else in the office.

“Dr. Luo needs a helper.”
The boss’s fingertip caressed the enamel pendulum of a Qianlong-era clock.
The antique clock suddenly spun counterclockwise crazily.
Song Yingxue stared at her own distorted reflection on the clock’s face.
The jade pendant on her earlobe was beating against her carotid artery with her violent heartbeat.

When the scent of cologne brushed past her ear, Song Yingxue smelled the residual scent of aged tobacco on the man’s cuff.
The ceiling lamp in the office cast a shadow on his cheek.
“After this is over, have Qian Mian come to see me.”

In front of Lin’an University, the light spots leaking through the gaps in the camphor leaves danced on the asphalt road.
A pebble kicked by the tip of Chengzi’s canvas shoe “clicked” against a fire hydrant.

“Really, where did this girl go?”

She checked her phone for the 23rd time.
The several missed call records on the screen were turning white in the 9:47 AM sunlight.

She clearly had a professional class today, but Bai Ling was nowhere to be seen.
She hadn’t come back last night either.

She wasn’t answering her calls or replying to her messages.
Who knew where she had gone to have fun.

“Bai Ling, you brat…”

Her curse was cut short.
The chest that Chengzi had bumped into was as cold as a marble pillar in a library.

The young man let out a muffled grunt, and Chengzi was knocked backward.
Fortunately, the young man quickly reached out and grabbed her, preventing her from falling.

The scattered pages of “A Modern History of China” flew between them.
As she leaned back, she caught a glimpse of the bandage wrapped around the other’s collarbone.
On his pale skin, it was like an unhealed scar.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”
Chengzi hurriedly squatted down to pick up the book.
Her fingertip accidentally brushed against the back of the young man’s pale hand—the temperature was as cold as a metal tray in a cafeteria.

“It’s… it’s okay…”
The young man’s voice was as hoarse as sandpaper.
His long bangs covered half his face.

“The… library… where is it…?”

“Turn left ahead…”
Only then did Chengzi see the young man’s appearance clearly.
He was wearing a T-shirt that didn’t fit him well, and his long hair was draped over his back.
His pale skin looked like it hadn’t been in the sun for a long time.
A pair of eyes in his choppy hair were a little dazed.

‘A sickly, delicate, and beautiful young man!’

This was Chengzi’s first impression of this young man.

“Th-thank you!”
The young man dropped a word of thanks and brushed past Chengzi, leaving only a retreating figure.

“Are there still handsome guys of this type in our school?”
Chengzi murmured.

“Chengzi!”
Lin Xiao Xia suddenly ran over from not far away, her ponytail swinging in a golden arc in the shadow of the camphor tree.

“Let’s go and eat the chicken pot at the south street…”
She suddenly fell silent, following her roommate’s dazed gaze.
“What are you looking at?”

“I just met a senior who looked like a sickly beauty.
He was super delicate.
Why did I forget to ask for his contact information…”

“What contact information!”
Lin Xiao Xia grabbed Chengzi’s hoodie and dragged her to the south street.
“That handsome guy was even staggering when he walked…”
Her voice was drowned out by the smoke rising from the breakfast stall.

The light spots leaking through the camphor leaves dyed the back of Feng Yi’s hand a light gold.
He stiffly turned his neck and watched the men and women, holding books and laughing, brush past him.
When the orange blossom scent on a girl’s hair drilled into his nasal cavity, his rotten olfactory nerves suddenly revived—he seemed to have smelled such a fragrance on a girl before.

‘Is this a university?’

The sunlight shone through his fingers.
Feng Yi lowered his head and stared at his own shadow on the asphalt road.

Confused thoughts wandered in his mind.
The smell of the demon slayers’ blood still lingered in his nasal cavity.

It seemed that the Daoist priest had dispersed the thick corpse qi on his body, which had allowed him to regain this brief moment of clarity.

He didn’t know how long this brief moment of clarity would last, and he didn’t even know why he had unconsciously come to this university.

Perhaps it was because of an obsession?

The excitement he had felt when he had received that university admission letter seemed like it was just yesterday.
But today, his chest could no longer muster any emotion.

Except for that temporarily suppressed anger.

“Excuse me, could you help me fill out a questionnaire?”
A girl with a ponytail handed him a flyer.
The smell of printing ink mixed with the sweet scent of the cherry blossom hand cream on her wrist.

Feng Yi took half a step back and bumped into the trunk of a camphor tree.
The glass door of the library reflected his current appearance: his long bangs covered his ears, and the bandage on his collarbone was exposed at the collar of his Uniqlo co-branded T-shirt.

He really didn’t fit in.

“N-no, thank… thank you…”

His memory was stuck in that chaotic war, stuck at the moment when that young couple’s chests were pierced.
Then came a dream-like drowsiness.
He couldn’t remember how long it had been, and he couldn’t remember what he had experienced in that drowsiness.

He only remembered the pain, a lot of pain.
The pain from that sword piercing his chest still hadn’t subsided.

But when he saw these youthful and energetic students, the pain that had seeped into his bones seemed to have lessened a lot.

He pushed open the library’s door.
The musty smell of the ancient book collection, wrapped in a memory that shouldn’t exist, rushed towards him.
Feng Yi stumbled and held onto a bookshelf, his knuckles leaving a mark on the cover of “Tiangong Kaiwu.”

In his suddenly clear vision, he seemed to see his former self sitting by the window, writing a letter.
The fountain pen’s ink had smudged the words “To my dear Master.”