Is it her...

Fang Qi stared blankly at Liguang in front of him.

Her delicate face...

had already blurred into a warm halo of light in his vision.

Her silver hair seemed as if immersed in water, gently swaying with some invisible ripple.

He blinked hard, trying to refocus that halo of light back into a clear face...!

But he failed.

The world in his vision was too blurry to see clearly.

The sounds, too.

Liguang's voice felt truly distant.

The only thing he could hear clearly... was his own heartbeat.

Heavy, slow, beat after beat.

And in his incredibly heavy mind...

that tune was still echoing.

The tune she had hummed in his ear in the backseat of the taxi.

That... lullaby.

The melody was simple, gentle, and beautiful.

Just recalling it made his eyelids droop...

No...!

He bit the tip of his tongue with all his might...!

The taste of rust spread in his mouth, the pain allowing him to barely grasp a trace of clarity.

That melody was so familiar...!

She had...

hummed it in his ear before...!

...When?

When did she sing it...?

Ah...

He remembered...

Before he fell into the loop... his first time falling asleep...

He seemed... to have heard it?

Back then, she brought the charging station to his room, knelt by his bed, and said she would go charge after coaxing him to sleep...

At that time... it was this very tune that lulled him to sleep.

Listening to this lullaby, he fell asleep peacefully...

And then began this loop.

And before that...

It seemed there was another time before that...!

...It was yesterday!

On the morning of the seventh day, before he went to sleep...?

Yes, at that time...

It was there too...!

At that time, lying in bed, he suddenly realized there might be a problem with Lin Xiaoyou's identity, staring at the ceiling and letting his thoughts run wild...

In the end, it was also this lullaby that coaxed him to sleep...!

But...

That's not right...

Still not right...

Even then, he had already felt familiar with this tune...

He must have heard this lullaby before that...

...When was it?

He asked himself repeatedly in his heart.

...When...

was it?

His brain, a mass of mush that could no longer turn... was desperately trying to think...!

Why... was it so familiar?

Every note, every pause, every gap between breaths of that lullaby...

were so familiar that they made him...

Ah...

Huh?

Is it that tune?

Is it that one...?

Is it the one...

on those nights...

on countless nights...

she always liked to hum... that tune?

She would lean against the headboard, her silver hair scattered on the pillow, her crimson eyes faintly glowing in the dark...

holding a baby in her arms, humming this...

untuneful melody.

Coaxing Xingxing. Coaxing Chenchen. Coaxing their great-grandchild.

It was also... the one she used to coax him when he had a fever many years ago.

The little him, burning with a high fever, curled up shivering under the covers.

And the little her, placing a cold towel on his forehead... humming that lullaby.

Over and over again, lulling him to sleep.

Finally...

he remembered where he had heard it...!

It was in that...

spiritual world he had been immersed in.

In that false yet real life that had been stretched out over eighty-two years...!

...Huh?

...Is it her?

Has she returned?

Has she... come back again?

Last time she suddenly awakened, she told him he could not speak the secret...

But she...

Why...?

Liguang... you...!

He wanted to say something, but...

that familiar tune rang in his ears again.

Very close, very soft, carrying a gentle sweetness.

Truly familiar.

It was her.

Absolutely...

it was her...

Liguang...

the wife... who accompanied him throughout his life...

The melody drifted over from his right ear, and his consciousness... was being drawn out bit by bit.

Fang Qi's eyelids drooped another inch.

He wanted to turn his head to look at her.

He wanted to say... you have finally recovered your memory...

He wanted to ask her...

Why?

But his neck no longer obeyed him.

His consciousness was like a sugar cube soaked in warm water, slowly melting away from the edges...

Until it finally dissipated.

His consciousness sank completely.

Unable to struggle, without any resistance.

That gentle, blurry chaos swallowed him whole.

Like a hand, gently covering his eyelids, helping him close his eyes...

And telling him—it's okay, go to sleep.

The last thing he heard was the slightly trembling trailing note of that tune.

Very light, very long.

As if... reluctant to end.

...

...

His consciousness floated up from the chaos.

Ceiling. Sofa. White porcelain teacup.

And that blurry, silver figure kneeling across the coffee table.

He could no longer feel fear, anxiety, or anger; all he had left was a...

deep exhaustion seeping out from his very bones.

...Master, your tea.

The voice was very distant.

Like someone standing at the end of another room, speaking to him through a closed door.

His brain, too sluggish to process sounds... barely caught it.

...The temperature has been adjusted to your favorite 52 degrees Celsius.

The voice grew even further away.

Fang Qi sat on the sofa, his eyelids half-closed.

The world in his vision was melting inch by inch.

The edges of the coffee table seemed to turn soft... the folds of the curtains... like blue smoke blown away by the wind...

Even the kneeling figure of the silver-haired girl turned into a halo of light with indistinguishable outlines.

He tried hard to open his eyes...!

But his eyelids kept getting heavier.

He tried to resist!

Tried to use his last bit of strength to keep a slit open...!

But eventually... they closed.

His body...

just fell to one side.

He didn't want to fall. He just felt his body dropping.

Master—?!

An exclamation of shock.

Very urgent!

But very distant.

Like a sound coming from the surface of the water, passing through the deep water, reaching the bottom...

Reaching the place where he was sinking.

Then his body was caught.

A soft, warm force, accompanied by a breeze smelling of sweet strawberries.

He didn't crash.

She caught him.

His head rested against a soft, slightly warm place.

He wanted to say something.

But say what...?

He didn't know.

His thoughts circled once in his completely stalled brain...

Then, scattered again into a cluster of meaningless fragments.

The sound by his ear rang out again.

That warm melody once more.

That lullaby.

Fang Qi's consciousness melted bit by bit into that melody once again.

Melting away so comfortably, so warmly.

He stopped struggling.

He didn't even think about why anymore.

He just lay quietly in that gentle chaos, letting the melody... gently push him deeper.

This tune...

is truly beautiful.

Liguang...

Is it really you...

And then...?

He was already... unable to do anything.

He couldn't even open his eyes anymore.

His consciousness sank down once again.

...

...

The ceiling again.

The sofa again.

The white porcelain teacup again.

Fang Qi didn't struggle anymore.

He was already used to it.

He didn't even try to open his eyes.

Those images were no longer entering his brain through his "eyes," but felt more like some hazy memory carved into his mind.

He knew... Liguang was kneeling on the opposite side of the coffee table.

He knew... she was holding that cup of 52-degree tea in her hands.

He knew... she was about to speak, to say the words he had heard countless times.

"...Master... tea..."

"...temperature has... like... 52 degrees..."

It was farther away.

Like it was coming from the end of another world.

Fang Qi sat there.

He didn't know if he was sitting or lying down, didn't know if his eyes were open or closed.

He wasn't even sure... if he was still in that living room.

His consciousness... was like a seashell washed over and over by the waves.

Every time he looped back, it was an ebb tide, sweeping him into a deeper, darker seabed.

And then...

His body began to fall again.

A hand caught him again, with a gentle force.

She was really good at catching him.

Fang Qi's consciousness began to drift and sink in that warm chaos once more.

He didn't know how long it had been—

A minute? An hour?

He couldn't tell anymore.

Time seemed to have lost its meaning.

It had become an endlessly repeating circle with no end.

He only knew that every time he fell...

Those hands would catch him.

Every time he sank into the darkness...

That lullaby would sound in his ears.

She kept singing.

Over and over again.

...

...

In the later loops, Fang Qi could no longer feel the "loop" itself.

No ceiling, no sofa, no white porcelain teacup.

He could only hear voices.

"...Master... tea..."

"...temperature... adjusted... like... 52..."

Farther away.

And he no longer felt exhausted. He didn't even feel sleepy.

That feeling of "sleepiness"...

Had disappeared after who knew how many loops.

All that remained was... a feeling of weightlessness, like floating in water.

His consciousness had also become a calm, rippleless surface of water.

And when that melody fell onto the water, it stirred up circles of ripples.

Those ripples slowly spread, slowly faded, and finally disappeared into the unseen distance.

...And then, the next melody fell again.

Another set of new ripples.

Fang Qi just floated there.

Not struggling, not thinking, and not remembering.

Which loop was this?

The ninth? The nineteenth? Or the ninetieth?

He didn't know.

And it had no meaning anymore.

He only knew—

Every time he fell, she would catch him.

Every time darkness descended, she would sing that lullaby.

It didn't matter anymore.

Nothing mattered anymore.

He just quietly floated in that warm, soft, never-ending chaos.