The memories continue to replay.
But at this moment, in those memories, there is no trace left of Bai Shuang.
The memories of Bai Shuang are forever frozen on that day, at that moment.
They have become an inconspicuous pebble submerged in the riverbed of the winding River of Time.
Only Yi Fan is left alone.
"I heard about Bai Shuangâs situation," Li Shutong and Yi Fan walked one after another on the deserted long street.
Like two solitary old men.
The teacher and student both had similar experiences, allowing them to empathize with each other more deeply.
"Thank you, teacher." Yi Fan looked up at the elderly man walking ahead of him. His temples seemed much grayer than before.
"Despite Great Xia facing so many crises, you still took the time to come and see me."
"Iâm managing, the work in the Eighth War Zone continues..."
Upon hearing this, Li Shutong shook his head.
"Thereâs no need to lie to me. Although we live in a world full of lies, not all lies are necessary."
"You can take a break."
"How long and how much time, thatâs up to you."
"We always experience the pain of loss, time will not stop for us, but we ourselves can choose whether to continue moving forward, or perhaps, pause for a moment to lick the wounds in our hearts."
"Great Xia is important, the work in the Eighth War Zone is important, but your feelings are also important."
Listening to Li Shutongâs words, Yi Fan halted his steps.
He looked towards the person he was most familiar with aside from Bai Shuang, mouthing softly.
"Thank you, teacher!"
"I indeed want to rest for a while."
Starting from the conversation on this day,
he returned to the identity of an ordinary person, like an unknown citizen, stopped walking, and lived his own slow-paced life.
The Commander of the Eighth War Zone, "Wu," temporarily went offline.
...
"Hey, youâre quite handsome, whatâs your name?"
The bar, the counter.
The woman across from him made conversation, Yi Fan glanced at her lightly, her delicate makeup was noticeable, and her lips painted with deep red lipstick were like flames, sexy and stunning.
He looked away and continued the duties of a bartender.
Seeing Yi Fan didnât speak, the woman continued on her own: "Iâm called Red Iris, I work at the dance hall across the street."
She smiled while handing a small card to Yi Fan.
Indeed, the card bore the name Red Iris with a sultry and enticing selfie, revealing snowy expanses of skin.
Yi Fan glanced at it but did not take it.
He pushed over a glass of water with mint leaves and ice, then said: "Forgive me, but if you donât order something soon, I might have to switch shifts."
"Such a bore." Red Iris pouted, her flame-like seductive red lips arresting, "Then bring me any strong liquor."
Strong liquor.
Yi Fan seemed a bit surprised. As a bartender, heâd encountered all sorts of people, but women who liked strong liquor were indeed rare.
"The stronger, the better." Red Iris licked her lips, adding with a light laugh.
Soon, a glass of strong liquor was crafted and pushed in front of Red Iris.
Under Yi Fanâs surprised gaze, she drank it all down in one go.
"Tastes good, but still not strong enough."
"Iâm in a hurry, Iâm off." Red Iris said and turned away, leaving behind a brisk retreating figure.
This woman was truly unique and strange.
Yi Fan thought to himself.
This was his first encounter with Red Iris.
The memory scenes continued to change, and in the memories belonging to Yi Fan, images of Red Iris began to increase.
"You donât look like a bartender." Once, Red Iris, slightly drunk, half-closed her eyes to size up Yi Fan, half-jokingly said.
"And you donât look like a dancer." Yi Fan retorted.
"What do I look like then?" Red Irisâs cheeks were a bit flushed, her lips still vibrantly red, slightly parted like a sweet apple, tempting one to take a bite.
Yi Fan restrained himself.
He not only resisted Red Irisâs allure but even remarked astonishingly: "You look like a shrew."
"Yi Fan! Youâre really a mood killer!" Red Iris fumed.
...
In life, besides an unforgettable first love, there might also be a memorable mature woman.
She was different from the first love, but both would inevitably imprint deeply into the mind, never to be forgotten.
Yi Fanâs relationship with Red Iris, as she visited the bar more frequently, also gradually became familiar.
From strangers to friends who could talk about anything, sometimes, it just takes a few more drinks.
"Why did you choose to be a bartender?" Red Iris curiously asked Yi Fan.
"The bar is a mix of fish and dragons; people come when theyâre in good spirits, come when theyâre not, and come when theyâre just okay." Yi Fan paused, glanced at Red Iris staring at him, earnest in listening.
"Someone once told me, good stories and words can console a personâs soul, and the stories in a bar are never few."
"Moreover, Iâm someone who canât lie. I need to interact with more people and get inspiration for lies from their stories."
Hearing this, Red Iris laughed softly.
Her smile was beautiful, complementing her vibrant red sexy lips, like a blooming red iris flower.
"I have stories too, do you have wine?" she asked teasingly.
As soon as she finished speaking, a glass of vibrantly red liquor was pushed before her.
Red Irisâs eyes showed a mix of surprise and delight, along with a bit of anticipation.
"Try it."
"Itâs my latest creation, the strongest drink in the entire bar. Itâs called Fiery Red Lips."
"Iâm off work now, see you tomorrow." Yi Fan said to Red Iris.
"So early today?" Red Iris asked in surprise.
"Yeah, something urgent at home needs handling."
Yi Fan nodded calmly.
"Youâre lying, Yi Fan. Your lies donât work on me, you canât deceive me!" Red Iris stubbornly held onto Yi Fan, her words made Yi Fan freeze.
At that moment, it felt like time and space overlapped and intertwined.
"Youâre leaving, youâre leaving here, arenât you?" Red Iris gripped Yi Fanâs arm with slight force. "Can you take me with you?"
"You like me too, right?"
"Iâm sorry." Yi Fan gently pulled away from Red Irisâs grip, walking into the darkness without looking back.
From that day forward, Bartender Yi Fan logged out, the Commander of the Eighth War Zone, "Wu," officially returned.
...
"Commander, after investigation, it was a fire caused by carelessness; the situation soon came under control, but one dancer was burned to death."
"Whatâs the name of that dance hall?"
"Seems to be called... Breeze Dance Hall?"
"Commander, why arenât you speaking? Commander?"
"I understand."
The scene abruptly ended.
This memory, its name, is "Beauty."