Chapter 1658: The Correct Memory
Days slipped by quietly, one after another.
Of course, in the memoir warehouse, there was no distinction between day and night, and memories didnât follow a 24-hour cycle. Ah Quan could only keep track of time using an electronic display that showed AM/PM. At ânight,â he would put on an eye mask, pretending to sleep in the darkness. As a resident of the pocket dimension, he didnât need sleep and couldnât even fall asleep. Instead, he would imagine the kinds of dreams he might have had.
The three living peopleâor a.s.suming they were all still aliveâwere different from him. They spent half of their time behind closed doors in their respective rooms, sleeping.
Ah Quan worried they might be plotting something. He felt it would be inappropriate to check on Lin Sanjiu, so he looked in on Ji Shanqing and Yu Yuan instead. He found them both sound asleep, sprawled out in undignified positions. When they woke up, they didnât seem eager to leave; instead, they acted like they were enjoying a leisurely vacation at the resort.
This behavior didnât match their previous urgency, which struck Ah Quan as odd.
However, what if, just maybe, they had changed their minds and were now content to retire here?
Ah Quan held back his urge to bring them new memoirs to keep things fresh.
A month had pa.s.sed since the snow-white s.p.a.ces.h.i.+p suddenly broke through the warehouse barrier and fell inside. Now, a new posthuman had been sent into the pocket dimension.
Like every posthuman sent here, this plain, serious-looking woman with brown skin was certainly not to be overlooked.
Ah Quan had learned to expect this: anyone sent here for memory alteration always possessed some exceptional skill or ability. Wu Yiliu had a sharp mind; Xie Feng excelled in combat and killing; even the peaceful, una.s.suming bookstore owner had deep insights into the peculiar business networks of the world of doomsday.
Ah Quan sat on a pile of bricks, holding a cup of tea, and glanced at the woman approaching from the end of the alley.
He didnât mind when the pocket dimension activated. It was his only chance to âopen his eyesâ and observe the surroundings and people. Each activation seemed to take place in a different areaâalways somewhere within the Twelve Worlds Centrumâso he eagerly antic.i.p.ated it.
Once he read their memories, the newcomers felt like old friends. Yet, just as he got to know them, it was time to say goodbye forever. Even if they met again, they wouldnât be the same people anymore.
Like most posthumans, this woman didnât realize that the casual man sitting in the alley, sipping tea, was a pocket dimension.
In fact, from the moment she laid eyes on Ah Quan, she had already entered the pocket dimension; she just didnât know it.
The woman cast a quick, cautious glance at Ah Quan as she walked by.
Ah Quan looked up and gave her a warm, friendly smile.
âDo I⊠know you?â She suddenly stopped, frowning in confusion. Her skills were strong, so she stayed calm, unlike lower-level posthumans who might have reacted like startled rabbits. âI feel like Iâve seen you somewhere before.â
This was the first sign: the boundary between memory and reality had started to blur.
Ah Quan had gone through the same process countless times before. He knew it by heart.
You see, every person is shaped by a mult.i.tude of experiences. Some of these are pivotal, playing a decisive role in shaping who a person becomes. Others are mundane, trivial, yet continuous, subtly molding a personâs underlying character.
No matter the type, Ah Quan could reach into any of them. When there was a qualitative change in a personâs memories, the person themselves changed quietly along with it.
For instance, someone who believes they were bullied at school is fundamentally different in character from someone who remembers being the bully. A loved child who comes to believe they were unwanted can exhibit two completely different personalities in just ten minutes.
âWhen I was twelveâŠâ the brown-skinned woman began, her expression almost bewildered. âI was separated from my mother. They took her away.â
Ah Quan placed a hand over hers, shook his head, and said with a slightly hoa.r.s.e voice, âYou donât have to say it; I know.â
The woman nodded, her lips trembling. The stern, serious façade of a capable adult melted away, revealing the face of a little girl struggling to hold back tears after being wronged.
In the trembling silence, Ah Quan sighed.
This was the core experience that had shaped her character, giving rise to a nearly obsessive, unlikable stubbornness. It was no wonder sheâd been sent to him.
Modifying her memory wasnât difficult. It didnât require drastic deletions or fabrications, something beyond Ah Quanâs ability. He couldnât make a beggar believe they were once a queen. Instead, he only needed to snip away certain details, blur impressions, erase what needed forgetting, add what hadnât existed, and mix up names. Then voila, the âcorrected memoryâ would be complete.
In this case, he altered the final exchange between the brown-skinned woman and her mother before they parted. He added a few non-existent phone calls after the separation.
With these small changes, she would now despise the mother who had once protected her with her life.
Ah Quan watched as the woman walked away from the alley. He stood there for a moment, dazed. This was a crime, an unforgivable one. What little he could do to make amends felt like nothing. It wasnât even close to raising the gun barrel an inch higher.
What did it matter that he kept a backup of the original memory if it never returned to its owner?
Ah Quan didnât want to dwell on it. He knew he had a weak character. Holding his teacup, he sat back down on the stack of bricks and closed his eyes.
When he opened them again, as he had many times before, he expected to be back at his fruit stand. The original memoryâs backup would be carefully poured into a blank container, forming a new memoir for the brown-skinned woman.
At least, thatâs what Ah Quan thought would happen.
This time, when he opened his eyes, he found himself back at the fruit standâand he wasnât alone.
Lin Sanjiu stood before him with her arms crossed, bending over to study his expression.
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