"You look terrible," Ye Qingliu said, his voice much calmer than his actual age. "The doctor said you need to rest for at least three days."
Mu Xinrong scoffed, "What do doctors know?" He couldn't take his eyes off Ye Qingliu's face. In another world, this face was even more angular, and his eyes even colder.
At that time, Ye Qingliu would watch him being tortured by Chao Youye, standing in the shadows without saying a word.
"The way you look with glasses..." Mu Xinrong's Adam's apple suddenly rolled, "It's exactly the same as in the third world line."
Ye Qingliu's slender fingers were just pulling a bottle of mineral water from his schoolbag when he heard the words. He unscrewed the bottle cap and handed it over. The curve of his wrist bone was particularly clear in the twilight.
"The third one?" Ye Qingliu's voice was filled with just the right amount of curiosity, like a real high school student's reaction. "What did you dream about?"
Mu Xinrong took the water bottle, and the cool touch reminded him of that rainy night in the fourth world line. Back then, Ye Qingliu was twenty-eight years old, wearing a white lab coat, his gaze behind his gold-rimmed glasses as cold as a scalpel.
They stood on the roof of the genetic modification center, rain dripping down Ye Qingliu's frame, while Chao Youye was waiting downstairs to execute the traitor.
"It's not a dream." Mu Xinrong tilted his head back and gulped down some water, the burning sensation in his throat easing slightly. "It's a memory. Memories from many different world lines."
His vision began to blur. The seventeen-year-old Ye Qingliu before him suddenly split into countless overlapping shadows—the Ye Qingliu in military uniform from the second worldline, the Ye Qingliu with silver hair from the fifth worldline.
In the seventh world line, Ye Qingliu wore an electronic prosthetic eye in his left eye... Each person handed him something different using the same gesture: a military water bottle, an energy potion, a nerve stabilizer...
"Where are you looking again?"
The real Ye Qingliu suddenly leaned closer, his pupils shrinking slightly behind his gold-rimmed glasses. "What's on my face?"
Too close. Mu Xinrong could smell the faint scent of cedar on him. He was using the same aftershave as Ye Qingliu, who had bandaged his wound in the safe house in the ninth world line.
Alcohol made his brain like crushed jelly, with countless fragments of memory floating in it.
"The second world line..." Mu Xinrong unconsciously grabbed Ye Qingliu's tie, the silk fabric was cool and smooth, "You and Chao Youye were at the military base...using me for brain-computer interface experiments..."
Ye Qingliu's expression froze. He slowly took off his glasses and wiped the lenses with the hem of his shirt. This action reminded Mu Xinrong of the rainy night in the eleventh worldline—the adult Ye Qingliu had done the same thing, removing his rain-soaked glasses before holding an umbrella for him.
The river breeze suddenly picked up, dispersing the overlapping shadows before Mu Xinrong's eyes. For a moment, he clearly saw Ye Qingliu before him—a real 17-year-old high school student, his eyelashes shimmering light gold in the sunset, and a small silver brooch pinned to the collar of his school uniform.
This detail made Mu Xinrong's heart suddenly shrink, because in the twelfth world line, Cheng Ye Qingliu also wore the same brooch.
"Do you remember this?" Mu Xinrong reached out to touch the brooch, her fingertips trembling. "On a rainy night, you wore it..."
Ye Qingliu didn't dodge, but his brows furrowed even more. "What rainy night?"
Memories flooded back. Mu Xinrong saw himself kneeling in front of the headquarters building in the pouring rain, his punishment for Chao Youye lasting six hours. The rain blurred his vision until a black umbrella suddenly covered the sky.
Looking up, he saw Ye Qingliu standing before him, dressed in a suit and tie, his brooch gleaming coldly in the lightning. Fragments of memory suddenly pierced his mind—the torrential rain, the pain of his knees on the rough asphalt, the sound of his leather shoes tumbling through puddles as he left Chao Youye. Then, the umbrella, its black canopy suddenly shielding him from the torrential downpour.
"You're the only fool in the world."
The clear voice of an adult echoed in his memory, overlapping with the clear voice of the young man before him. Mu Xinrong suddenly grasped the edge of the bench, his knuckles turning white.
"You clearly remember... Ye Qingliu..." Mu Xinrong's voice began to tremble, "You were wearing this..."
"What's wrong?" Ye Qingliu frowned and reached out to help him.
Mu Xinrong dodged. "Don't touch me," he said hoarsely. "You were clearly... in another worldline, you just watched."
Ye Qingliu looked down at the brooch, his expression becoming complicated. "This is a student union souvenir," he said slowly, "I just gave it to me last week."
Mu Xinrong's breathing stopped. Countless fragments of memories collided in his mind—in some worlds, Ye Qingliu was cruel and indifferent, in others, Ye Qingliu secretly helped, and the Ye Qingliu in front of him...might truly know nothing.
"Then why...?" Mu Xinrong grabbed Ye Qingliu's wrist. "Why do you find me in every world line?"
Ye Qingliu's pulse quickened beneath his fingertips. This reaction reminded Mu Xinrong of the safe house in the tenth world line. When he questioned the defected Ye Qingliu, the other's wrist had also been beating violently like this.
"I don't know about other world lines." Ye Qingliu gently withdrew his hand, his voice unusually shaky. "But today after school, I suddenly felt that I had to come to the riverside to take a look."
This sentence opened a certain memory gate like a key. Mu Xinrong suddenly remembered the beginning of the first world line - Ye Qingliu was also like this at that time.
This sentence opened a certain memory gate like a key. Mu Xinrong suddenly remembered the beginning of the first world line - Ye Qingliu had said the same thing at that time, and then brought him into the laboratory.
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