Chapter 62: Rewrite Memory?

Sunlight shone into the golden paulownia forest, and through the mist in the woods it looked like a hazy expanse. Yang Xin slowly opened his eyes in that golden paulownia forest, gazed at the unfamiliar scene, and then slowly rose to his feet.

Although he had many doubts in his heart, he knew he first had to get out of this forest.

Yang Xin looked at this golden paulownia forest; he knew this was the place where Feng Yan had brought the dwarves back then, but here there were no dwarves, no Feng Yan, and no bounty hunters who had been sent to pursue them and were counter‑killed by Feng Yan. He knew the dwarves had erected a dirt mound for one bounty hunter, yet here it seemed as if nothing had ever happened—the forest was still that forest, but those things were gone.

"Really, there isn't a trace of vitality; this shouldn't be the same forest as before." Yang Xin glanced around, talking to himself.

A gentle breeze brushed Yang Xin's cheeks, making him feel very comfortable; he unconsciously narrowed his eyes, even feeling a hint of enjoyment. Yet he still recalled his friendship with Feng Yan, and sometimes he thought: "If, back then, he had succeeded, perhaps I and Feng Yan would still be good friends, and we wouldn't have ended up like this—what a ridiculous situation."

He still dwelled on that matter; neither he nor Feng Yan could forgive the other—one had restrained his feelings of affection for her for the sake of his friend (I dare not lightly use the word "love," for its weight is too great), and Feng Yan, in middle school, had pursued Wang Tingwan; he had always silently borne the role of messenger, yet Yang Xin's heart was also enduring pain, for Feng Yan was a friend, a very good friend.

The wind brushed Yang Xin's face, passed through the golden paulownia forest, and gently brought down a few leaves; the golden paulownia leaves fluttered in the air, slowly drifting to the ground, some falling into the water and being carried downstream by the rapid current, like a single‑winged butterfly—beautiful yet cruel. The leaves on the trees that the wind did not bring down also rustled, sounding as if full of sympathy, or reluctance toward a companion.

Yang Xin paid no attention to these things; he began to feel a little regret, but he knew Feng Yan would not regret it—or rather, Yang Xin knew that lie was an unforgivable fault for both Feng Yan and himself.

Yang Xin gradually stepped forward, began to slowly observe the surroundings, then let out a sigh and said: "If it could be changed, or perhaps salvaged, what choice would I have made back then?"

"Do you think we can start over?" a voice sounded.

"Who?" Yang Xin started, then looked around.

The sky gradually darkened, the feeling oppressive; the paulownia forest slowly lost its color, leaving only shades of gray and black. Yang Xin stretched out his hands, unable to believe his eyes—his own hue had also faded to gray‑black?

"Surprised? Quite right, after all it's merely a thing that lets people rewrite their memories." The voice sounded again.

"Experience it again? That is, can we return to the past?" Yang Xin loudly questioned the voice.

"Sorry, I can't tell you that. In any case, good luck." The voice gradually faded.

"Wait a moment, I…" Yang Xin still wanted to ask something, but the voice had already disappeared.

The next second, a hand rested on Yang Xin's shoulder—it was Feng Yan, just as before; the two walked together along the campus path, speaking of the words left unsaid at their middle‑school graduation. Both were happy, yet Yang Xin tried to steer clear of those topics—about Wang Tingwan and who her boyfriend was—this was his inner self‑reproach, or perhaps he could not think of a good excuse; still this time he could not bring himself to speak.

But the next second, Feng Yan directly asked: "You are Wang Tingwan's boyfriend, right?"

Yang Xin halted for a moment, his face darkening, and replied: "My stomach feels a bit uncomfortable; I'll go to the restroom—you go ahead."

"He still couldn't say it back then? Is this false friendship?" The Red‑clothed Devil, looking through a crystal ball, smiled and said, "Then things are gradually becoming interesting—pick it up, an interesting plot can unfold."