Second type of death

Chapter 29

"The meal was peaceful; I even thought I would never be forgotten by them. However, not long after the meal, for some reason, they suddenly became interested in tidying up the room. They even forgot to clear the table and started bustling around the house. I helped them tidy up, and the three of us tidied for a while, piling all the unused things in the living room. Dad took a big bag and put them all in. Mom casually picked up the top of the pile and threw a photo frame into the bag: 'I don't even know whose picture this is, throw it away.' I have sharp eyes and recognized it immediately as my picture—as if something had suddenly pierced me, I snapped out of my daze and stared blankly at the pile of things, only then realizing that they were all my things: my clothes, my photos, the soccer ball I used to kick, and so on."

“‘That’s my picture,’ I said. Hearing this, Mom picked up the frame and looked at it for a long time, then laughed: ‘Look how confused I am.’ She put the frame aside. I forced a smile and said nothing more. The curse had already happened; I knew I was powerless to stop it, and could only watch helplessly as it unfolded.”

"Dad and Mom used several large bags to clear out everything in the house that was related to me. The picture frame was eventually thrown away too. The house suddenly felt much emptier. They walked around looking at everything, and finally breathed a sigh of relief, as if they had accomplished some great task. I watched them pick out my things from the many items in the house. With each item they threw away, I felt like a part of myself had been abandoned. Dad looked at me, paused for a while, and then smiled and said, 'Look, I can't remember your name for a moment—son, what's your name again?' I told him my name."

After tidying up the house, we sat together and chatted. We talked about my childhood, and I realized they couldn't remember many things. They had almost completely forgotten what I looked like back then, not even which university I attended. They kept apologizing, saying that people's memories aren't as good as they get older, but I knew why. It wasn't their fault; it was my own. Luckily, they still remembered I was their son. Before they forgot me, I remembered I needed to get a new ID card, so I asked my mother for the family's household registration booklet. After searching for a long time, my mother told me the booklet was missing, probably thrown away while cleaning. I smiled wryly—that was normal, because my name was on the booklet.

"The three of us went to the police station together. My parents quickly applied for a new household registration booklet, which they could pick up after a while. But I had already seen a sample of the booklet, and it only had two names on it—my father's and mother's names. I had disappeared from their household registration. I asked to have my name added back, and they all looked at me strangely. My father and mother were also looking at me strangely."

"'Who are you?' my mother asked me warily. A sudden pang of pain shot through me. Helplessly, I turned to my father, but before I could ask him anything, seeing the unfamiliar look in his eyes, I understood—like my mother, he had forgotten who I was. My brief happiness vanished just like that, and I would never have a home again. After everything I'd been through, I thought I could handle all of this calmly, but I couldn't. I couldn't help but crouch down on the ground, overwhelmed with grief. No one noticed me. When I stood up again, my parents were gone. I asked the police officer to give me an ID card, but I didn't have a household registration booklet. I gave him my old ID number, and he checked it on the computer. I clearly saw my number appear on the screen. Then, right in front of me, he deleted the record from the computer and told me that my ID number wasn't in the computer.

"I couldn't help but laugh—I exist, but I have no household registration, no ID card. Society hasn't given me a basic symbol of existence. I no longer belong to this society. So what am I? A real homeless person, unable to even find a job. After laughing, I cried for a long time, walking alone along the road, crying as I went. Anyway, there was nothing shameful about it. No one would remember that I cried. I even wailed and rolled around in the middle of the city's busiest street. People around me occasionally cast surprised glances, but no one stared at me for long—I finally understood the feelings of that girl who took off her clothes in the street. It wasn't depravity, but just profound loneliness, just wanting a little bit of attention."

"I wandered around that city, and in some places the familiar stench permeated the air. I knew that there was someone like me there, someone I longed to be close to, but I couldn't overcome the stench. My companions and I avoided each other, relying on that stench to keep ourselves separate."

"Later, it got dark, and I felt in my pocket and found that I still had the house key, so I took a car home. When I opened the door, my dad was watching TV in the living room. When he saw me, he stood up in a panic and asked who I was—judging from his expression, he seemed to think I was a burglar who had broken in. I didn't say anything, and there was no need to explain. I just quickly slipped into my room. After my dad couldn't see me, he forgot that there had ever been a person like me who had walked into his house."

"I stayed at home like this for a few days, wearing my dad's clothes every day, throwing away my used tissues, toothbrush, and other personal items, and then going to the supermarket to get new ones—I didn't mean to be so extravagant, but I had a kind of instinctive urge to destroy everything that belonged to me. Because I left no trace, my parents didn't notice my existence. They continued their peaceful lives as usual, as if they had never had a son. Sometimes they would invite some old friends over to play. These were all people I knew. When they first saw me, they would greet me warmly, which puzzled my parents. However, after just a turn of their heads, they forgot who I was and forgot that I had ever existed. I kept moving around in my own home. Every time they saw me, they would panic and ask who I was, but each time they would quickly forget that there had ever been such a person as me in their room."

"A week later, I left home. It was no longer my home, and staying any longer would only make me more heartbroken. More importantly, the growing longing in my heart was calling me to leave, to go to another city, to find other people, and to begin another round of being forgotten."

"I traveled from city to city, searching for acquaintances, encountering strangers, constantly calling you—the only thing I could do was put you last, hoping you'd be the last to forget me—I lived well while wandering. At first, I didn't know where to stay. Luckily, in the first city after leaving home, I found a friend's house. As soon as he opened the door, I smelled a familiar stench. I saw a strange woman standing in the room behind him. We stared at each other across my friend. My friend recognized me and invited me in, but I refused. I asked who the woman was, and he said he lived alone, with no other women. The woman behind him replied that she didn't know him, but was just staying at his house. Seeing my surprised expression, she shrugged: 'That's normal. People like us need a place to stay, don't we?' Hearing the woman's voice, my friend was very surprised, turned around, and shouted at the woman: 'Who are you?' I took the opportunity to leave. He wouldn't remember her, nor would he remember me."

"That woman reminded me: since others wouldn't remember me, since they'd forget me the moment they turned away, then I wouldn't bother anyone no matter whose house I lived in. So, that night, and every night after that, I did the same—I'd randomly pick a family, knock on the door, and squeeze in without a word, then stay there, sometimes overnight, sometimes longer, depending on my mood and schedule—and indeed, I didn't bother anyone. Nobody remembered me, nobody knew I was living in the same house as them. In the process of searching for a place to live, I discovered that this was how people like me survived. Many times, I'd knock on a door and smell a foul..." Ugh, I knew it. This family already belonged to another of my kind, so I abandoned this one and went to find another—after all, there are so many people and so many houses in this world. Everyone is parasitic like this, some wearing the clothes of the homeowner, some taking clothes from the supermarket—in short, leaving no trace. So sometimes the homeowner will find that something of theirs is missing, but it will return on its own soon afterward—everyone has probably encountered something like this in their life, right? If I hadn't become like this myself, I probably would never have known that these things were taken by the people living right next to us! This world is far more crowded than we imagine; we and you are worlds apart.

"Later, at the beginning of this year, after visiting all my acquaintances, only you remained. All my longing was focused on you alone. I couldn't resist such a powerful force. With a feeling of despair, I came to Nancheng, which can be described as sprinkling the last shovelful of soil on my own grave. Before seeing you, I called you and told you everything that had happened to me. You thought I was joking. I said no. I arranged a meeting place with you and asked you to look at me without blinking. You still thought it was a joke and found it very interesting, so you agreed."

"When we met, the weather was beautiful, and you were still carefree. But when you saw me, you froze, and your smile quickly vanished—my face must have looked very heavy. People like us almost always have a fixed expression—loneliness, despair, confusion—and even facing you, I couldn't shake it off. It was like a heavy shell, tightly gripping my face. I wanted to smile at you, but I found my muscles were as hard as iron, and I could no longer smile naturally. My expression frightened you. I didn't have time to comfort you; I just kept reminding you not to let me out of your sight. You sensed the seriousness of the situation and nodded in agreement. At first, we didn't sit at the same table—this was my suggestion; I wanted to..." Look at my situation. We were sitting at adjacent tables, face to face, each ordering a cup of tea. Your tea arrived quickly, but mine was taking forever. Waitresses bustled around me, each asking what I wanted. I told everyone I wanted chrysanthemum tea, but no one brought me any. They asked me countless times what I needed, and I repeated, "Chrysanthemum tea," countless times. I was used to this; no one remembered I had ever ordered tea. You watched for a long time, finally unable to bear it any longer, and came to my table yourself, ordering chrysanthemum tea for me. This time, the tea arrived quickly, delivered directly to you. You handed it to me, looked at me for a long time, and whispered, "Is what you said true?"

"Yes," I said. You looked at me in alarm: "What should we do?" I said I didn't know; I hadn't found any solution along the way. You comforted me, saying there would always be a way. For the rest of the time, we just kept looking at each other, discussing what to do, while desperately looking at each other again and again. Because I had drunk tea, I really needed to go to the toilet, but I didn't dare get up. I was afraid that if I got up, in the blink of an eye, I would become a stranger to you. You thought so too; you stared at me with wide eyes, as if trying to see directly into your heart. Later, we left the teahouse, still looking at each other like that. We walked and talked face to face. I held your hand; it was trembling, a wet and cold little thing, like a wounded animal. You said you didn't want to forget me, and you said many other things, all of which I remember, but what I said to you..." But you remember nothing. I remember every single one of your movements, every smile, every time you held back tears—I remember everything about you, because I know that no matter how hard you try, you can't keep your gaze fixed on me forever. I can't stay in your sight forever. Then, all of this will become our last memory—our last memory as lovers. Even if we meet again, we'll be strangers. You said you would try to remember everything, that you wouldn't let that kind of forgetting happen to you. You were really amazing; you actually persisted for ten hours straight, from dawn till dusk, your gaze never wavering. Later, you couldn't hold on any longer and unknowingly fell asleep against me. Seeing your eyes slowly close, I felt so sad; it felt like you were dead.

"You fell asleep leaning against me like that. We sat on a bench by the roadside, with cars passing by in front of us and a flower bed behind us. The evergreen plants were lush and green, while all the other flowers and grasses were withered and yellow, not yet ready to regrow. I didn't dare move a muscle, not even breathe loudly, for fear of waking you. If you woke up, you would never recognize me again. And at that moment, as you slept on my shoulder, you were still my lover. Perhaps I was still in your dreams. Sometimes you would show a stubborn expression, and I thought, maybe you were trying hard to look at me in your dreams, thinking you were still awake, but not knowing it was just a dream... I was lost in these thoughts, hoping you would sleep as long as possible. Cars kept honking, each horn sending shivers down my spine, but thankfully they didn't wake you. You slept for more than two hours before waking up. As soon as you opened your eyes, you looked at me. I didn't dare speak; I didn't know what role I should play in speaking to you."

You stared at me for a long time, then asked suspiciously, "Who are you?" I felt an overwhelming sense of desolation, yet also a touch of relief—I had been terrified for this moment for far too long, and now that it had finally arrived, I felt a sense of relief. I made up a lie, saying that you had fainted on the road. You smiled sheepishly, thanked me, and got up to leave. As soon as you stood up, the side of your body that you had been leaning against suddenly felt chilly. I watched your retreating figure, hoping you would turn around and look at me, but you never did.

At this point, he looked at me with surprise and an inscrutable expression. I then realized I had been crying for a long time, tears streaming down my chin. Looking at him, I felt he was still a stranger, yet I gently leaned against him and said, "I'm sorry." Leaning on his shoulder felt awkward; his words hadn't brought us any closer. Something that had disappeared was gone forever. He sensed this too, gently turning away from me and shaking his head: "It's not that feeling."

We remained silent for a while. The mournful music echoed from the mourning hall. People came and went in twos and threes at the entrance; in the flickering lights, some people had shadows, some didn't. Several classmates peeked in from the entrance, including Xu Li; they seemed to be looking for me.

“They’re looking for you,” Yu Fei said, standing up first.

We walked together among our classmates, and everyone said it was getting late and we should go back. Several of my close friends from university invited me to go out. While I was talking to them, Yu Fei stood silently in the shadows to the side, and these were also his classmates.

"I'm very tired today, let's get together again next time," I said to them. They looked at me with disappointment, and Xu Li held onto my arm tightly: "Who knows when we'll get together again? Maybe we'll never have such a complete gathering again, everyone will be getting busier and busier."

I stared at her blankly—she was right. Perhaps, for me, there would never be another party—wasn't that what happened to Yu Fei? I glanced at his face in the shadows, then turned to Xu Li and said, "Okay, let's have a blast tonight!"

"Great!" everyone cheered. Several classmates heard our cheers and came over to join the party. Someone had somehow managed to extinguish all the little light bulbs on the branches. Without their noisy glow, the surroundings seemed even clearer.

My classmates and I left the funeral home hand in hand, a large group of us walking side by side on the wide road. It was nearly 11 o'clock, and the streets near the funeral home were much quieter than other places. There were hardly any cars; the road was ours alone, with no shops on either side. Below the roadbed stretched vegetable fields into the distance, and then fields. Yu Fei followed behind us alone. I introduced him to everyone: "This is Yu Fei, my boyfriend!"

"Oh!" Everyone cheered and laughed around him, and he smiled back at me.

We laughed and sang, and after a while, a classmate pointed at Yu Fei and asked, "Who is that person? He seems to be following us."

“This is Yu Fei,” I said, taking his hand and introducing him again, “my boyfriend.”

Everyone started to cheer again.

That night, we wandered the streets endlessly, from one street to another. Everyone abandoned their reserve and shyness. We all knew we would never have the chance to gather like this again. This was the first time we had attended a classmate's funeral since graduation, and because it was the first time, our grief was especially profound. We knew we wouldn't be like this again; as we grew up, no amount of funerals would move us so deeply. Old friendships would be replaced by new friends, and memories wouldn't last forever. Everyone thought this, but no one said it aloud. We just played around as if it were the end of the world, not thinking about how much of what was once beautiful we would have to give up as we grew up. During this time, I lost count of how many times I introduced Yu Fei to everyone. This action wouldn't leave them with any memory, but it was significant for Yu Fei and me—it was the only remaining connection between us. Everything else had been forgotten, and I forced myself to repeatedly bring up our relationship to commemorate those times I had no recollection of.

31

At two o'clock, everyone finally left. Only Yu Fei and I were left.

“Let’s go back too,” he said.

I nodded: "Do you really live across from my house?"

“It’s fake.” He laughed. “I live downstairs from you.”

"Huh? Room 202?" I looked at him in surprise.

“Yes, that day you completely forgot about me and turned to leave. I couldn’t help but follow you, all the way to your dormitory. Do you remember that abandoned old house across from your dormitory? I lived there for a few days. You seemed to sense my presence and often knocked on the door, but I never opened it. A few days later you moved out, and I followed your taxi to No. 6 Yunsheng Street. You lived on the third floor, and I moved to the second floor. The family on the second floor had a computer with internet access, and I couldn’t help but use the name ‘Westward Out of Yangguan’ to communicate with you. Although I couldn’t let you know who I was, at least we could stay in touch,” he said.

That's when I realized why the eerie sounds and lights always emanated from that old house opposite my old dormitory—it was actually where Yu Fei lived. Thinking back to my initial fear, I couldn't help but laugh—perhaps the so-called haunted houses and haunted residences in the world are just the dwellings of forgotten people.

“Actually, we met many more times after that,” Yu Fei said. “I often couldn’t help but go up to you, and each time I would say that I was your neighbor. You would receive me very politely, but you would forget me in the blink of an eye. I even wrote a letter explaining the whole situation, hoping that you would remember something after reading it—I never dared to send that letter until one day, you and Xu Xiaobing hurriedly went out, and I followed you all the way to Liufang Lake. I hurriedly handed you that letter, and you looked at me inexplicably. Although you took the letter, you threw it away in the blink of an eye.”

"Ah?" I couldn't help but exclaim. What he said reminded me that, indeed, when we were retrieving the body from Liufang Lake, Li Yuntong had mentioned a man to me. He said that I had spoken to that man and even took a few pieces of paper from his hand... It turned out that what Li Yuntong saw at that time was Yu Fei. Unfortunately, I didn't know at the time and thought that Li Yuntong had seen wrong.

How many people have I forgotten? How many people who are so important to me have passed by without my knowledge? The thought of this possibility makes my heart ache.

Yu Fei sensed my mood. He smiled and sighed, "There are far more forgotten people in this world than you imagine. Almost everyone has forgotten some of the most important people in their lives. The older people get, the worse their memory becomes. Actually, it's not a problem with memory itself, but rather because the older you get, the more people you meet, and the more people you forget. Over time, people get used to forgetting—do you still remember Meng Ling?"

"Meng Ling?" Of course, I remember her. "Have you seen her before?"

He nodded: "I often come to see you, so of course I see her often." He hesitated for a moment, "Let me tell you how all this happened first, otherwise you won't be able to understand Meng Ling's situation—she is a special case."

"Didn't you already tell me?"

“That’s different. I’m telling you how people were forgotten, not why.”

"Huh?" I stared at him, wide-eyed. "Is there any other explanation for this?"

“Yes,” he said. “Maybe.” He then sighed deeply. “At first, I thought that was the reason too. I thought that knowing the forgotten secret meant knowing the reason. But after I moved into the apartment downstairs from you, I met someone.”

“Wait a minute,” I interrupted him, puzzled. “Aren’t you supposed to be forgotten in the blink of an eye? How could you possibly get to know someone again?”

“Let me finish,” he said. “The person I know is the same kind of person, but he hasn’t reached the stage I’m at yet—he’s like you, not forgotten yet, just in this ‘incubation period,’ so he can see me, and he doesn’t have an unpleasant body odor, nor can he smell the odor emanating from my body.”

"Oh?" I waited for him to continue.

“The process of getting to know him is the same as getting to know anyone else, there’s not much to say. I’ve met quite a few people like him,” he glanced at me and gave a wry smile. “Why are your eyes suddenly lighting up? Do you think this will make me a lot of friends?” He shook his head. “Don’t forget, these people are all in the incubation period. Soon they will also be like everyone else, emitting a strange smell—people like us are destined not to have long-term relationships. The person I just mentioned to you, I don’t know where he is now, but during the few days I spent with him, he told me the whole truth about it all.”

"Perhaps it's not the truth, perhaps it's just a deduction. He told me that this kind of thing is not accidental, nor is it isolated, but a universal phenomenon. There are far more people like us than we can imagine, and this has been happening since the beginning of humankind—so, research into this kind of thing began in ancient times. The data from this research has been passed down from generation to generation by people in the incubation period. When a person in the incubation period realizes that they have finally begun to emit an odor, they will pass on the data they have to the next suitable incubator—I think it's okay for me to call people in the incubation period this? Through this kind of transmission, research into this phenomenon has finally achieved some results."

"The research is divided into several directions. The information that the undercover agent I know has is mainly in the medical field. Because the undercover agent himself studied medicine, he became the inheritor of this type of research. He told me that based on thousands of years of investigation and analysis of people like us, as well as the results of physical research since modern times, they have concluded that the root of this phenomenon comes from the human brain."

“The reason is simple,” he said. “It’s because a certain functional area of the brain has been activated. You know, less than 10% of the human brain is used; there are many mysterious areas that remain unknown. The human brain has had certain functional areas since ancient times, one of which is forgetting. This kind of forgetting is different from forgetting in the usual sense, where the forgetting is centered on the forgetter and the forgotten object is something outside the forgetter; but this kind of forgetting makes the world outside the forgetter forget the person.”

"What?" I was confused. "How is that possible?"

"Don't rush, listen to me. Since this functional area is meant to make others forget you, it must affect others, that is, through powerful brainwaves, influencing the same functional area in their brains—I forgot to mention, this functional area has two functions: first, to influence others' brains; second, to receive signals from other people's corresponding functional areas—similar to a telegraph machine, capable of sending and receiving messages. Normally, this functional area is closed, but in some people, it opens randomly, depending on their physical condition and emotions. Once the functional area is open, anyone within a certain distance will receive the signal and automatically delete all information related to the signal sender—that is, memory. This involves the mechanism of memory storage in the human brain, a problem that even the friend who told me all this didn't fully understand." In reality, no one can truly understand how memories are stored. However, one thing is certain: like file storage, memory storage is also marked by certain identifiers, but these identifiers are more complex. For example, the memory of me in your mind isn't a single, complete piece stored in your brain; it's wrapped up with many events—do you understand? People and events are inseparable. However, when that special functional area in my brain is activated, your mind receives my signal. Then, under the mobilization of this functional area, the memory system begins searching for all memories related to the person 'Yu Fei.' 'Yu Fei's' name, appearance, characteristics, and everything else will be deleted from your mind. This deletion process may last for a few days or a few hours, depending on the individual. During this time, you may appear to have completely forgotten me on the surface, but in your brain... Some of my memories still remain in your mind, just not consciously accessed. Therefore, whenever any information about me re-enters your brain, it automatically connects with the remaining memories deep within, and is then identified and deleted by the relevant functional areas. Thus, at that time, if someone asks you who Yu Fei is, you won't remember who Yu Fei is, and you'll even forget that someone ever asked you about the name 'Yu Fei,' because all of this is automatically deleted after being compared to your memories of me by the relevant functional areas. However, once my memories in your mind are completely erased, no matter how the relevant functional areas are guided, they cannot find the name 'Yu Fei' in your brain, and therefore will not perform the corresponding deletion action. At this point, if someone tells you about 'Yu Fei' and related stories, you will not forget—unless I appear. Before you—in fact, the moment the functional area was activated, the signal I emitted as an independent being became a unique identifier, inextricably linked to me. This identifier will remain permanently in the functional area of the mind of everyone who receives this signal. Names, deeds, and other elements are not unique identifiers for a person. There isn't only one Yu Fei in this world, nor am I the only one who experienced those things. Therefore, once you completely forget me, as long as you don't meet me, your brain won't associate those elements with me, and thus won't delete the relevant memories. You will remember this 'Yu Fei' who re-enters your mind, and the related events told to you again, but you won't be able to connect it with the real me. For you, those are merely stories; there is no corresponding entity in reality.

"If I reappear before you without telling you who I am, your cognitive functions will quickly recognize me as the uniquely identified person. Everything in your mind related to me will be deleted; in other words, I won't leave any impression on you. Because I haven't told you who I am, you don't know I'm Yu Fei. Therefore, the information you previously had about Yu Fei isn't connected to me appearing before you, nor is it connected to that unique identifier in your cognitive functions. So, the Yu Fei in that story still exists—even if I tell you that I am Yu Fei, it doesn't necessarily mean that the 'Yu Fei' in that story will be deleted from your mind." "Unless you're certain that this 'Yu Fei' is the same 'Yu Fei' from the story, and that the two are connected, then that information will be deleted—do you understand? The more completely you forget me, the more likely you are to remember the name 'Yu Fei'; conversely, the longer I remain in your memory, the less likely you are to remember the name 'Yu Fei'—it's a strange paradox." As he said this, I nodded silently—so that's it. No wonder I was completely unaware when Xu Li mentioned Yu Fei's name; I had completely forgotten him by then, and because his name wasn't associated with him, I hadn't forgotten that Xu Li had mentioned it. The same goes for the name "Westward Out of Yangguan"; it didn't correspond to the unique identifier for Yu Fei in my brain, so the story of "Westward Out of Yangguan" was preserved. Xu Li remembered Yu Fei because she was far away in America; Yu Fei hadn't had a chance to meet her, and her brain hadn't received the information about him. Tonight, she already forgot who Yu Fei was, because they had already met. Her mental state started functioning... And Xiao Guan, the girl in charge of files at Wangyue Elementary School, when we went to find her, she must still have fragments of memories about Meng Ling remaining in her mind. She could delete all information about Meng Ling at any time. So, although Xu Xiaobing asked her about Meng Ling, when I asked her about her again later, she still acted as if she was hearing the name for the first time...

Yu Fei continued, "Moreover, this kind of forgetting—what we call the person whose functional area has been activated being a 'disappeared'—is transmissible. Transmissibility means that after a 'disappeared' person transmits the signal of their functional area, that is, their unique identifier, the receiver, while deleting the signal from their own mind, also transmits this signal—each receiver is like a relay station, receiving and disseminating information. This doesn't mean that the receiver's own functional area has been activated—you see, that functional area doesn't only exist after it's been activated; in fact, it has always existed between the brains..." The communication function is relatively weak, but the intervention of this identifying information enhances it. It's like an idle information station; the equipment isn't abandoned, but rather there's no information, so no information is disseminated. When information appears in the recipient's cognitive function, the inherent dissemination function of that function automatically activates. It doesn't turn the recipient into a missing person, but it allows the missing person's identification information to continuously spread. Therefore, even without direct contact with the missing person, but only with people the missing person has been in contact with, the brain will receive the missing person's information and automatically erase memories related to the missing person.

"Continue." I was a little confused, but I finally understood why forgetting was so complete—no matter how powerful the person who disappeared was, they couldn't possibly visit everyone who remembered them. I had initially hoped that one or two people would be overlooked, that some people would remember us—but now it seemed that since this kind of information transmission could be sent out through any receiver, its transmission was virtually limitless. Imagine someone like Xu Li, in a faraway place, avoiding all signals from others. However, as soon as she returned to our environment, those signals would reach her mind, because it only needed one person who had once lived around us to transmit the signal. In this era of frequent population movement, the breadth and speed of this information transmission are unimaginable. Perhaps even being abroad doesn't guarantee escape from this information network.

"Moreover, activating this functional area can also create a strong desire in both the sender and receiver to destroy items related to the sender," he said, breathless after finishing the long sentence. "It can also stimulate the sender, making them eager to contact familiar people in order to spread the signal to more people, thus accelerating the rate of forgetting. This is why we feel that intense longing; it's actually the result of this functional area acting up. It secretes a morphine-like substance that quickly penetrates the memory storage area—you know, human memories exist in the brain every moment, constantly connected to your consciousness, although most of the time..." The moments were all ignored by my own consciousness, but when this morphine-like substance combined with memory, even the smallest details would be remembered, and I could derive pleasure from repeatedly reliving them, even developing a kind of dependence—what we thought was longing, was actually just dependence on that substance—which also explains why my memory would suddenly be enhanced at that time, allowing me to recall details that I had previously forgotten.” He turned to look at me, and I nodded silently—I finally understood why a strange woman's voice came from Li Yuntong's phone. He must have, like Yu Fei, thrown away his phone under the drive of that destructive urge, and perhaps a woman just happened to pick it up.

Yu Fei's voice continued: "The process of forgetting is like this: First, old information related to the signaler is deleted. Then, the signaler's information is prevented from entering the long-term storage area—that is, everyone can only have short-term memories of the signaler, which is why they are forgotten as soon as they turn their backs. During this stage, because the functional areas secrete a large amount of special substances, they directly stimulate the body's glands to emit a certain odor. However, the mechanism for recognizing this odor is also contained within the substance that produces it. In other words, people whose functional areas are not activated cannot recognize this odor because their brains do not produce this special substance. This is why only people like us can smell that odor. You can't smell it yet..." "The reason you're here is because your functional area hasn't entered the second stage yet; that special substance hasn't been generated in your mind. Actually, the activation of the functional area has another effect: it creates a reverse electrical shield, blocking signals from the same functional areas of others. That's why people like us can remember and see each other—because the signals my mind sends to you are blocked, and yours are blocked too. You see, the distance between us can be shortened because our minds can't communicate. Sometimes, thinking about this, I find it a strange contradiction." As he said this, Li Yuntong's image flashed into my mind. This narrative almost completely explained the process of Li Yuntong being forgotten—and Yu Fei's own forgetting. This mysterious thing, simply put, is that simple: they were forgotten little by little.

Yu Fei stared straight ahead and said in a low voice, "In the third stage, the information emitted by the functional area will inhibit the brain of the signal receiver, making it unable to translate any information related to the signal sender. Do you know what this means? It means that even if I stand in front of you, your eyes see me, your ears hear me speak, your body can touch me, and your nose can smell me—all your senses are functioning perfectly. However, after all these senses reach the brain, that functional area comes into play. It discovers that these senses are related to me, a signal sender, and therefore blocks these senses from being transmitted to your consciousness—and so..." You wouldn't even know I exist. All your feelings, lacking the brain's translation mechanism, are unrecognizable to you. Because blocking these feelings requires a lot of energy—the brain itself is a precise organ, its design inherently incorporating energy-saving functions—to avoid unnecessary energy consumption, upon receiving such information, the brain automatically sends instructions to the body to avoid receiving such signals as much as possible, such as avoiding contact with the missing person, staying away from the area where the missing person exists, etc. This explanation made everything clear to me: no wonder people always try to avoid those around them; that's the reason.

He continued, “At the same time, in the third stage, the functional area will act on the brain of the vanished individual, causing certain circuits to form in their brain—a complex circuit. Once formed, the vanished individual's view of the world will change. They will almost instinctively fear all humans around them. In other words, the newly formed circuit indicates that the vanished individual has become a new life form, because this circuit makes them feel that everyone else is an anomaly, and their only kindred spirit in the world is themselves. After entering this stage, the vanished individual will try their best to avoid getting close to others, especially avoiding physical contact. All the parasites I've seen in other people's homes were in the second stage. When they reached the third stage, they would automatically move out of other people's homes because the newly formed circuits in their brains made it impossible for them to live with other people—it's like how humans can't live in the same cage as other animals, or how humans can't live under the same roof as ghosts. This aversion is the same. Do you understand? Any questions?”

As he said this, I recalled the fear the man in black at the rental bookstore had shown me. Yes, he seemed terrified of my contact; it turned out his brain circuits were acting up again. What would that feel like? Imagine wanting to be close to everyone in the world, yet fearing their closeness—what a agonizing contradiction that would be! I felt I couldn't bear that feeling; I couldn't imagine ever finding myself in that situation!

"Wait, let me think." I waved to him, and he stopped talking, walking silently beside me. I felt my mind was a mess, my pace was sometimes fast and sometimes slow, and sometimes I would suddenly stop, staring blankly for a long time before starting to walk again.

I slowly recalled everything that had happened, trying to explain those things using the principles Yu Fei had told me—almost all the problems were solved, leaving only three that puzzled me.

The first question is about Meng Ling. I don't understand. Since Meng Ling lives with us every day, and we know that everything is done by Meng Ling, and we even know what she looks like—meaning that all the information we have about Meng Ling should automatically be associated with her as a person—then we shouldn't even have the concept of "Meng Ling" in our minds. Everything about her should have been deleted long ago. Even though I'm an undercover agent, I never forgot anything about Meng Ling before I became one. This completely contradicts what Yu Fei said.

We shouldn't even remember those strange things that happened around us, because those strange things were also related to Meng Ling, and the memory of those strange things should be erased along with Meng Ling's unique identification information.

“You’re absolutely right,” Yu Fei nodded after I said that. “That’s why I said I have to explain the principles to you first before talking about Meng Ling—because Meng Ling is a special case.”

"An exception?" I looked at him in confusion.

“Yes.” He nodded. “Think about it, since this kind of thing happens in a functional area of the brain, then, if a person’s brain is diseased…” I didn’t pay attention to what he said next. Suddenly, the image of someone flashed through my mind—the mentally challenged man I met in the alley near Meng Ling’s mother’s house. Wasn’t he the one who always remembered Meng Ling? When Ouyang and I left the factory, Ouyang was forgetting Meng Ling because he had met her directly. I hadn’t forgotten Meng Ling because I had become an undercover agent, and that mentally challenged man had also had close face-to-face contact with Meng Ling. He hadn’t forgotten Meng Ling because his mind was abnormal! Yes, that must be it. Since this kind of forgetting is originally a function of the brain, then if a person's brain is diseased, perhaps the lesion will affect the function of the functional area... I finally understand this point. No wonder Yu Fei was so happy when he found out about my headache in room 302. He must have thought that perhaps my headache was affecting the functional area, and he didn't want me to become a disappearer as well. However, it was not the headache that was affecting me. I am indeed about to become a disappearer. I glanced at him and sighed quietly—although I understood this, Meng Ling's problem remained unresolved. Yu Fei, oblivious to my distraction, continued, "...Coincidentally, although I've been to your room many times, I've never encountered Meng Ling. It was only that night, when you went out for coffee, that I discovered you had another roommate. Later, online, you told me some strange things had happened at your house. That's when I realized that Meng Ling herself was also a missing person. To find out what happened, I went to your house to look for her, just like before, but you weren't home that time—of course, even if you were home, you wouldn't remember me coming—Meng Ling was alone at home, and when she saw me, she froze. I also didn't quite understand what was going on, especially since you shouldn't have noticed her existence at all—but the reality is, she not only left various traces in the room, but also made you guess who she was—didn't you realize this was abnormal? She should have destroyed all evidence of her existence."

"Yes, what's going on?" When he said that, I remembered something else: Didn't the bookstore owner always remember him? But after he had contact with me, he should have received the information about Meng Ling that I forwarded to him, so how could he still remember her?

“So I just asked her what happened,” he said. “She said she didn’t understand either; it just happened so inexplicably. She was just an ordinary girl who moved there with Xu Xiaobing. Who knew that after only a few days, Xu Xiaobing wouldn’t recognize her, and nobody remembered her. They forgot about her as soon as they turned their backs on her. Xu Xiaobing even ignored the traces she left behind. This situation initially confused her; she didn’t understand what was going on. But, well, that’s a girl’s little trick. She had a sudden inspiration: since nobody remembered who Meng Ling was, could she change her name? So when Xu Xiaobing met her, she started calling herself ‘Liu Fang,’ and claimed to be her…” The term "neighbor" continued until you moved in. This makes it easy to imagine what happened—because she was already in the second stage, each time you and Xu Xiaobing deleted information about her, it was very thorough, especially for Xu Xiaobing. She knew Meng Ling before you, so during the time Meng Ling interacted with her under the name 'Meng Ling,' everything about Meng Ling was deleted, including any traces of her memory. The name 'Meng Ling' didn't exist in her mind, and the name 'Meng Ling' never appeared in yours; only the name 'Liu Fang' frequently appeared, and that was quickly deleted as well. What would happen then? Well, since 'Liu Fang' was your neighbor, therefore... You wouldn't suspect that she was responsible for all those strange events. Therefore, even though you continued to have close contact with "Liu Fang" and constantly received information from her, because your memory storage system didn't associate "Liu Fang" with those strange events, the memories of those bizarre incidents remained. Later, when you found the name "Meng Ling," you naturally attributed everything to "Meng Ling," which was certainly correct. The problem was that Xu Xiaobing's original concept of "Meng Ling" had been completely erased. All your information about "Meng Ling" came from investigation, not from contact with a real person. Meng Ling herself in reality is known as "Liu Fang." Since each entity is unique, when the unique identifier of 'Liu Fang' guides you to delete information in your functional area, you are deleting information about 'Liu Fang,' while information about 'Meng Ling,' because no corresponding entity can be found in reality, is preserved. I think every time you see 'Liu Fang,' you must think she looks a lot like 'Meng Ling,' but looking like someone and being someone are different concepts, and they are stored differently in the brain. This doesn't form a memory association that 'Liu Fang' is 'Meng Ling.' In this way, Meng Ling, with a little cleverness, has retained the only memories she has in your minds. She even tried to communicate with you online, but you were too afraid, so she had to give up.”

"Can changing your name preserve your memories?" Of all the things he said, only this question lingered in my mind. I took a deep breath, the crisp, fragrant spring air filling my nostrils. In the dim night sky, a faint light seemed to flicker. Tiny hopes, like seeds, unfurled their green wings. I felt my heart, steeped in despair, begin to beat again, as if a small crack had been torn in the hardened atmosphere of despair. I looked at Yu Fei with hopeful eyes: "Can changing my name really preserve my memories?"

Yu Fei looked at me with pity, turned his head to the side, and sighed. Before he could even speak, just that sigh made my heart sink.

"You've forgotten a premise—the memories retained by changing your name are not linked to any entity," he said softly, as if there were something fragile in front of him that needed to be handled with care. "Aren't the memories you leave in other people's minds linked to you as a person? Even if you really change your name, and no matter what, you refuse to admit that you are Jiang Ling—even if you manage to retain other people's memories of you, what use is it to you? You as a person will still be forgotten, and the real you will still not exist in their memories—what's the point?"

Yes, what's the use? Even if I don't admit I'm the Jiang Ling you remember, even if you retain everything about Jiang Ling in your memories, what's the point? If your memories aren't connected to the real me, what value do those memories have to me? In the end, it just makes those who genuinely care about me wait for a Jiang Ling I've virtualized, while I still can't get close to them—what was originally my own pain has to be borne by those who care about me. What's the point? My pain and despair won't lessen at all, and some people in this world will despair because they can't wait for the transformed me. What's the point? I feel confused, and my heart aches intensely. Turning my head, I see Yu Fei looking at me with concern, and I feel a slight embarrassment and annoyance.

"You haven't explained Meng Ling's matter clearly yet," I said, coughing.

“Hmm.” Yu Fei nodded. “After explaining this matter, Meng Ling couldn’t explain why she wouldn’t destroy anything related to herself, so I took her to see my friend. That friend took her to the hospital for a checkup—this kind of checkup is easy for us because we can freely enter and leave hospitals, and that friend himself is a doctor at the hospital. The results showed that Meng Ling had a tumor on her head; whether it was malignant or benign was currently impossible to determine. The problem was that the tumor was located directly above her functional area, causing pressure on that area. Through experiments, my friend said that Meng Ling’s functional area was not functioning fully, and the information it emitted was slightly different from normal information. For Meng Ling herself, this difference in information was that it didn’t generate the same strong urge to remember or destroy things as we do, so…” Meng Ling never considered contacting anyone she knew, nor did she intend to destroy evidence of her existence—this is probably why Ouyang still remembers her. The difference in how this information is perceived by the recipient lies in its ability to sometimes trigger a forwarding mechanism and sometimes not. This means that information about Meng Ling's functional area may not be transmitted to every recipient. I think all of Meng Ling's clients and colleagues have forgotten her existence, probably because this forwarding mechanism relayed her information; while the bookstore owner remembers her perhaps because this mechanism simply failed to work on you. Another fortunate thing is that her brain cannot secrete that odorous substance, so although I have visited your room many times, I have never realized she is one of my kind.

"After I told Mengling everything, she finally understood what had happened. At my urging, she agreed to leave the house you were living in to avoid frightening you further. Before leaving, she decided to see Ouyang one last time. Some people experience severe headaches when erasing memories—especially important ones—due to their different constitutions. After seeing Mengling, the memory erasure process caused Ouyang a terrible headache. You said Ouyang never liked her, but Mengling herself says otherwise. She firmly believes Ouyang also had strong feelings for her. She said," He paused here, for some reason, and gave me a deep look, "that she wanted Ouyang to completely forget her so she could start over with you..."

"Me?" My face flushed red instantly.

“Yes, that’s what she said,” he nodded. “She told me that she had secretly followed Ouyang and you, though she never got close, but she felt that Ouyang was unusually kind to you… Is that true?” He looked at me weakly. I looked away, unsure how to answer.

"Is that so?" he asked again.

"What's the point of talking about this now?" I said with a wry smile. "It means absolutely nothing to me."

We fell into an awkward silence again. Yu Fei seemed a little sad, scratching his head and scraping his feet on the ground. I glanced at him, feeling apologetic and deeply saddened. We were all pathetic, weren't we? Meng Ling, Yu Fei, and I were all destined to be forgotten by the people we cared about. Perhaps only Ouyang was lucky, but was it truly luck? To walk alone for so long—could that be considered lucky? One important person after another leaving your side, and you're completely unaware, simply believing you were born to be alone—is that ultimately fortune or misfortune?

I patted my head, letting it make a hollow sound—it was all its fault. Where was that functional area? I wondered if it was too late to damage it now? I stared at the hard ground and suddenly had a thought: maybe I should try slamming my head against the ground?

"Is there anything else you don't understand?" Yu Fei asked after a long time.

I snapped out of my daze and quickly nodded, "Yes." I told him what Li Yuntong's wife, Chen Jing, had said: "I'm not surprised that Chen Jing forgot who Li Yuntong is. What I don't understand is why she said her husband was a sailor? Where did she get that memory?" As soon as I asked that question, I suddenly had a moment of clarity. Not a sudden realization about my question, but rather an understanding of Li Yuntong's feelings. It was like an epiphany; I suddenly knew why he left—hadn't Gu Quan already told me? Yes, that's exactly it. Gu Quan told Li Yuntong the truth, and Li Yuntong decided to distance himself from his wife and son—he was determined to distance himself from them, and from anyone who might have a relationship with them—this was his death throes. He thought that such distance would prevent forgetting from happening, but he didn't know that forgetting had already taken effect before he left… I felt a strange sadness, not knowing whether this sadness was for him or for myself. I seemed to see him walking alone in the bustling crowd, not recognizing anyone, not being remembered by anyone—this image has been hanging in my mind for a long time. Li Yuntong is getting further and further away in my mind, getting smaller and smaller, almost unrecognizable, yet he keeps walking… Li Yuntong's experience shocked me far more than Yu Fei's experience. Although Yu Fei and I were closer, in my mind, Li Yuntong was a good friend, while Yu Fei was just a stranger… Thinking of this, I felt inexplicably sad again—no matter how moved I was by Yu Fei's account, I could never regain the feeling of familiarity I had for him. He became a stranger to me forever. Even now, though we have become friends again because of a shared tragedy, his place in my heart still cannot compare to that of Li Yuntong.

"Didn't you hear me?" Yu Fei's words brought me back to reality. I smiled sheepishly and asked, "What did you just say?"

“Chen Jing’s seaman husband,” he said, “does not actually exist.”

“I know, but how could Chen Jing think her husband is a sailor?”