Wen Qianshu suddenly didn’t want to watch anymore. Every cell in her body was screaming for her to escape, screaming for her to stop.
But she remained motionless, watching. She watched herself with Jiang Mingyue, watched Jiang Mingyue holding the cat, quietly watching her leave the house.
She was familiar with that gaze—it was the same as the one Jiang Mingyue had when she stood at the hospital entrance, watching Wen Qianshu leave.
Wen Qianshu: “When did she remember?”
2333: “…”
As expected of Wen Qianshu, she skipped over whether she had remembered and directly asked when she had remembered.
2333 stammered, “She—”
Wen Qianshu interrupted it: “Was it that time I went to the hospital and ran into my past self?”
2333: “…”
2333: “Probably. Actually, before that, she had already started remembering things bit by bit.”
Jiang Mingyue was, after all, just a system. She couldn’t support a world long-term like the Main God. So after confirming that Wen Qianshu didn’t need 2333, the separated core system directly decided to recall 2333 to save energy.
But even so, System 0 didn’t last long. A spatial rift still appeared and was discovered by the Main God.
Wen Qianshu: “So that time you froze me and said, ‘What are you doing here’—”
“Yes.” 2333 braced itself and admitted, “I had recovered my memories then and was surprised why you were in a world line I was responsible for.”
Wen Qianshu closed her eyes and said stiffly, “Mm.”
If only she had investigated a little deeper back then, she might have discovered it.
But at that time, she was flustered and confused. Even though she knew something was strange, she was completely unwilling to think about it in detail.
Wen Qianshu: “And then?”
2333: “The Main God was furious, but Senior wouldn’t compromise. The Main God was worn down and had no choice but to allow her to stay until the end of that world, but only as a human, without being able to use the system’s power anymore.”
“Senior is, after all, the system the Main God values most.”
Taking advantage of the fact that this was Senior’s memory and the Main God wasn’t around, 2333 whispered, “I’ll tell you a secret, but you must not tell anyone—the Main God was so angry back then, saying she didn’t learn any of the good things and picked up all of humanity’s bad habits.”
“Humanity’s bad habits?”
Wen Qianshu sneered and said lazily, “She’s so good, what bad habits could she possibly have?”
2333: “?”
Here we go again, huh?
Both of them are clearly messing around, yet they both think the other is the obedient one?
Wen Qianshu looked at Jiang Mingyue, wondering what on earth she had been doing back then. Not wanting her mind to be idle, she continued to ask, “Then why did I still have a second world, and a third world?”
2333 fell silent. It hesitated for a moment before speaking, a little embarrassed, “I’ve always been a bit hostile towards you.”
Wen Qianshu wasn’t surprised, as if she had noticed long ago. “Mm.”
2333: “…”
It felt so tired, but it still said, “Because you originally didn’t meet the qualifications to be a repairer.”
“In every world, there are some people who have a major impact, like the protagonists and so on; while others have very little impact, what you would call supporting characters. Therefore, the Main God uses influence to determine priority.”
2333: “Repairers are generally required to have a protagonist-level priority, and your priority wasn’t high.”
At first, 2333 thought Wen Qianshu was lazy and incompetent, which was why her priority was so low. Who would have thought this person was just too indifferent? She was apathetic to most things around her—while others fought for power and profit, she was cracking melon seeds and watching the show. It would be strange if her priority wasn’t low.
“So,” 2333 said, “you’re not a human repairer. You’re a system repairer.”
Wen Qianshu: “Huh?”
It was rare to surprise Wen Qianshu. 2333 was stunned for a moment, even feeling a sense of accomplishment. “Yeah, you’re a system repairer. Didn’t expect that, did you?”
Wen Qianshu wasn’t the least bit excited. “This identity, was it transferred to me by Jiang Mingyue?”
That bit of accomplishment vanished instantly.
2333: “…”
2333: “Yes.”
Wen Qianshu: “Where did she transfer it? Show me.”
2333 hesitated. “You already know what she did. Do you still want to see it?”
Wen Qianshu raised her eyes. Her ink-black pupils held a gaze as sharp as a knife. Even though 2333 had no physical form, it was inexplicably chilled by her look. Wen Qianshu was usually a bit laid-back, loved to laugh and tease people, and even as Yan Chengshuang, she often joked around without a moment of seriousness. As a result, 2333 sometimes forgot that she could also be the Qin Shu who aimed a gun, the little lunatic of the search team.
Wen Qianshu: “Show me.”
2333 felt an inexplicable chill. It adjusted the timeline to show Wen Qianshu—it was the last day they spent together in that world.
The day of Jiang Mingyue’s 99th birthday.
Wen Qianshu watched expressionlessly as her past self bustled about in the memory, and as Jiang Mingyue sat on the sofa, her hair full of silver.
Wen Qianshu remembered that world; she remembered what she had done. With her abilities, she could almost predict what was about to happen, but she still stared intently at the scene before her, letting herself watch.
She saw Jiang Mingyue call out to her. She heard Jiang Mingyue ask her if she believed in the next life. She heard the doorbell ring. She heard Jiang Mingyue say she loved her.
She didn’t answer.
She damn well, hell, didn’t answer.
Wen Qianshu saw herself fall silent for a moment.
Sunlight passed over the window, pierced through the gap in the curtains, and was stretched into a long line that lay between them. All the hustle and bustle was shut outside the window. In the room, there was only the sound of the doorbell and knocking, intertwined, sound after sound, growing more urgent, as if pressing her for an answer.
Jiang Mingyue looked at her.
But she just said, “Wait a moment, I’ll go get a cake and be right back.”
After speaking, Wen Qianshu turned her head. At that moment, she didn’t see Jiang Mingyue’s lowered eyelids behind her, her gaze dimming.
Or perhaps Wen Qianshu had anticipated it and deliberately turned away so as not to look at her.
A cloud passed by in the sky outside the window, blocking the sunlight and also blocking that line.
What was Jiang Mingyue thinking at that moment?
No one would ever know.
2333 said from the side, “It was right here. She chose to install the system core into you, making you a system repairer. That’s why you had subsequent worlds, but she lost the system core and thus lost her memories—”
2333 continued to speak, while Wen Qianshu looked around.
This was their home.
The home they had lived in for a long time.
The curtains they had picked out together, the throw pillows they had bought together. She had once sat on the sofa, hugging a pillow, resting her head on Jiang Mingyue’s shoulder to watch movies.
The living room wasn’t large, but it looked full. Stacks of medical books were piled on the floor, and various picture frames hung on the walls, many showing Wen Qianshu laughing heartily. There were also drawings, many drawings—it seemed that every single one Wen Qianshu had given to Jiang Mingyue, whether meticulously drawn or casually doodled, had been carefully framed by her and hung on the wall, covering it completely.
The armrest of the sofa was scratched up by the cat, frayed and rough. Beside the sofa was a small rattan table, within easy reach, on which always sat a celadon bowl that was never without candy—orange-flavored candy.
Next to the living room was the kitchen, and the kitchen refrigerator was always stocked with ice cream. It wasn’t until later, when Wen Qianshu got older, that Jiang Mingyue, thinking it was too cold and bad for her stomach and fearing she would be uncomfortable, restricted her from eating too much.
Jiang Mingyue, she clearly didn’t like to eat cold things—
The memories were so vivid they were like a monstrous wave, crashing down and drowning Wen Qianshu until she couldn’t breathe. Everywhere her gaze fell, there were familiar pieces of furniture and decorations, familiar doors. Their bedroom, their study—
And those notebooks in the study, filled with pressed leaves.
“I’ve decided. If there’s a next life, I’ll become the wind.”
“If you see a leaf fall, that means I’ve been here.”
Did Jiang Mingyue always like to collect leaves because of this?
She couldn’t remember anything from her school days, yet she was unconsciously searching for Wen Qianshu, searching for her figure.
Leaf after leaf, picked up and saved in notebooks—
The wind had come; the wind was right by her side.
The memory came to an end, finally freezing in place. But Wen Qianshu remained standing, not saying a word. 2333 had been talking for a long time before realizing she hadn’t been listening at all. Both angry and helpless, it tentatively called out to her, “Wen Qianshu?”
Wen Qianshu covered her eyes, let out a long breath, and then suddenly smiled.
She loved to smile and knew how to smile beautifully.
This time, her smile was so forced, it looked as if she was about to cry.
Mingyue had said back then—
“If there’s a next life, it would be nice to meet earlier.”
It would be nice to meet earlier.
It turned out she wasn’t talking about their next life, but about their past life.
A little earlier, just a little earlier—
If Jiang Mingyue had realized her feelings when Wen Qianshu was young, had forcibly invaded 2333, brought Wen Qianshu to this world, and given her the love she wanted.
Would everything have been different?
However, so many years had passed since then. Wen Qianshu was no longer that soft little girl, the one who could be coaxed with a piece of candy or an ice cream.
She didn’t even like sweets anymore, always assuming it was Jiang Mingyue’s preference.
Nearly twenty years had turned Wen Qianshu into a block of solid ice, difficult to warm.
Humans, so easily hurt, yet so difficult to heal.
They left the memory and returned to the Main God’s space.
Wen Qianshu sat on the bed and saw the silver letter gradually crack and fall apart. It was like moonlight being sliced by the window frame and railing, shattering all over the floor.
Wen Qianshu stared blankly at the floor.
2333 carefully chose its words, waiting for Wen Qianshu to speak. However, she just tugged at her collar and said, “The next world line, give me the data.”
2333: “?”
2333: “Aren’t you going to ask anything?”
Wen Qianshu: “I’ve seen it all. What is there to ask?”
“No, do you even understand your current situation?” 2333 said. “She gave the system core to you, which means she can’t use system permissions, can’t access the database, and can’t recall past world lines.”
“And you rely on the System 0 core to be a repairer and travel through all these worlds. So if you ever hand over the system core, you will die.”
Wen Qianshu narrowed her eyes, but she didn’t smile.
She had ink-black pupils, bloodless lips, and pale skin wrapped in the light silver uniform of a system repairer, looking cold and inorganic.
2333 was taken aback. It remembered the Main God saying that System 0 had learned humanity’s bad habits—but this human who was with her, when not smiling, looked more like a system.
Wen Qianshu: “I understand. I understand what this situation is.”
In every world from now on, Jiang Mingyue would meet her, and then forget her.
2333 wanted to say more, but Wen Qianshu said, “Are you not sending the data?”
2333: “?”
A sense of foreboding suddenly rose in its heart.
The next second, Wen Qianshu put on the transfer headset. “Then let’s begin.”
2333: “??”
What? Begin what?
A white light appeared, and a mechanical voice sounded: “World line loading…”
Without having to talk to 2333, Wen Qianshu could finally empty her mind. But she didn’t think of any plans, only a small thing—back then, she had joked with 2333 that wiping an eraser clean wasn’t a useless effort, but a Sisyphean tragedy.
Sisyphus—
Now, her words had become a prophecy.
Author’s Notes:
Note 1: I didn’t include the full note earlier because some parts might have been spoilers. According to Homer’s epic, Sisyphus was a very clever man who kidnapped Thanatos (Death), causing a long period where no one on earth died. He was later punished by the gods to endlessly push a giant boulder up a mountain, only for it to roll back down. Therefore, in Western contexts, the adjective “Sisyphean” describes a task that is “endless and futile.”
OOC Skit:
2333: This scene looks familiar.
Tricked in the first world, tricked again in the fourth world. Just ask 2333 if it’s happy.
Also, I’m a good mother author. Little Moonlight will remember, trust me!
Generally speaking, obvious bugs are foreshadowing. If I missed any, I can only ask you to pretend you didn’t see them orz.
