His thoughts sank into memories his mind had once filtered away—memories now returning with piercing clarity.
Qi Zhimu finally understood where that familiar warmth came from.
It was his mother's embrace when he was a child.
No troubles. No worries. He could sleep without fear.
Qi Zhimu's whole body loosened. His lips curved into a smile he hadn't worn in one hundred and fifty-seven years.
The sealed memories surged back like a tide.
So that's how it was…
So be it.
I only pity that you never saw my joys and sorrows;
I only sigh that love divides us to opposite shores.
North winds roll the snow, scattering blossoms in their fall;
The past, in tangled fragments, plucks my heartstrings raw.
Ten thousand words I cannot speak—only memory remains,
Hollow, lingering, bound in longing's chains.
In the end, lone plum blooms through endless bitter years—
I cannot find again the boy from those days.
As Qi Zhimu's eyes were about to close, a tear slid from the corner and sank silently into the earth.
"Clarisse… thank you for staying with me to the very last moment…"
I should go now.
Take care.
[Remaining lifespan: 25 minutes 34 seconds → 0]
Clarisse was still caught on the poem when she heard his thanks—then, in the next breath, she realized the body in her arms no longer breathed.
Her arms trembled. She carefully moved his head onto her thighs.
A clean smile rested on his face, like a child who had finally dropped every defense and drifted into sleep.
He left so peacefully.
Her vision blurred. Tears fell in heavy drops, landing on his cheek.
Her fingers traced his features, and she forced out a hoarse whisper through her sobs.
"…You almost lied again."
You said you knew when you'd die—that you didn't need an early birthday.
And yet—
You still didn't make it to one hundred and seventy-five.
Why… why wouldn't you stay a little longer? Feel a little more of the warmth I gave you?
Clarisse bent down, resting her forehead gently against his.
The night was silent.
After a long time, her lips moved. She pressed a kiss to his cold mouth.
Her fingertips brushed over his closed eyelids as she slowly straightened.
And then Qi Zhimu's youthful face began to fade, gradually returning to the white-haired, tranquil old man he truly was.
The night was still long.
Clarisse took off her coat and covered him gently. She looked up at the stars.
How she wished that earlier, Mr. Qi had told her—
That after death, he would become a star, watching her forever.
Even a lie could hold feelings, couldn't it…?
She held him like that until dawn.
Morning sun drove off the long night, bringing warmth to everything that had endured frost.
Light spilled over the two figures before the bamboo house.
Yet neither could feel warmth anymore.
"Life is a winding labyrinth. Aside from memories, we have nothing."
A figure whose face could not be seen appeared soundlessly a few meters away.
Hearing the familiar words in an unfamiliar female voice, Clarisse slowly raised her head. Her eyes were dim. She wasn't surprised—only silent.
She had known, long ago, that she had been chosen.
Seeing those phantoms of past memories had been proof enough.
"Do you want to remember him—his life, his story?"
"What price will I pay?" Clarisse asked in return.
"Until you choose to reveal yourself, no one will be able to know you exist."
"Like how people never knew black swans existed until they saw one?"
"Like that."
"I understand."
"Will you spend your entire life collecting memories?"
"I will."
"Will you give up your flesh and accept your own transformation?"
"I will."
"If one day you cease to exist, what will you leave this world?"
"My memories," Clarisse answered. "They carry seeds of the past, and they will be reborn in the future."
In an instant, a gaze swept across the star-sea and fell upon her.
"Welcome to the Garden of Recollection, Miss Clarisse."
Some memories were small and warm. Some were vast and magnificent.
Some were gentle like pets. Some were feral like beasts.
From the moment she became a Memokeeper, her memories grew quiet and orderly—as if raging waves had finally found a harbor meant for them.
"Call me Black Swan."
Before the day of reunion arrives, people always assume the past is farewell.
But swans are not only white.
And goodbyes… may not always be forever.
The guiding member of the Garden nodded. Her figure faded and vanished.
Clarisse… no.
Black Swan's eyes, the tenderness reserved only for Qi Zhimu, deepened.
Countless shards of memory spiraled around her and then disappeared.
They did not vanish.
They became seeds.
People believe they walk toward the present and the future—yet none of them know that, in truth, everyone is walking toward the past.
"Mr. Qi… I can finally hold you in my heart—eternity as the deadline."
Black Swan lifted Qi Zhimu and floated back to the bamboo house to do the last thing for him—
To lay him beneath the plum tree, returning him to dust.
It was his final wish.
The folded-space entrance inside the bamboo house was still hidden, but Black Swan could enter it without resistance.
There, Qi Zhimu's prepared resting place waited.
"Meow…"
Seeing Little Orange, grief flickered across her face.
"…You're here too…"
She laid Qi Zhimu down carefully. Little Orange jumped up and rubbed its head against his icy cheek.
"Meow…"
Its voice trembled. It was grieving.
Black Swan took a deep breath and brought his belongings: the white lab coat and the zhongruan.
She folded the coat carefully and placed it beside him, along with the instrument.
After that, she stared at his aged face, lost.
"I'm sorry. I can't accept fate as calmly as you did…"
"I'm sorry. I took your memories—selfishly—so I could keep you inside me forever…"
"If you have a next life… if we can meet again… I hope you'll say to me: 'Long time no see.'"
She floated, hand hovering over the activation key, for a long time.
Then her finger finally fell.
The entrance opened, exposing the dark chamber within.
She watched as Qi Zhimu's body was carried inside. She closed her eyes.
The gate shut. Flames ignited, consuming his body completely.
To personally send off the one you love… was likely the most painful thing in the world.
But no matter how painful, she would finish it.
Because she already held everything about him.
For Mr. Qi, today was Great Cold—his birthday, and his death anniversary.
Hours later, Black Swan carried the urn to the old plum tree on the mountain peak behind the house.
It was midday. Winter sunlight bathed the mountains of plum blossoms, the scenery like a dream.
"You were going to pick blossoms today… weren't you…"
In the end, she missed it.
After laying him to rest, Black Swan erected a stone marker.
She thought for a long time, then let out a sigh heavy with complexity.
With a flick of her finger, five characters appeared on the stone:
Qi Zhimu's Grave
The wind rose, scattering petals that drifted to the marker's base.
An orange blur darted out from behind and curled beneath the stone.
One woman and one cat, basking in sunlight, keeping watch.
For a long, long time.
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