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The next day, Xiao Ai returned to the city hospital for her follow-up appointment. Dr. Zhao carefully unwrapped the bandages from her head—the final site yet to heal. Once the wounds on her head were gone, her entire body would be fully recovered.

Layer by layer, the gauze was peeled away, revealing flawless, unblemished skin. Before them was the delicate face of a young girl, fresh and innocent, with enchanting eyes. Usually, only Xiao Ai’s eyes and mouth were visible, her nose left exposed for breathing, while the rest was swathed in bandages. Now, her entire face was clear to see.

“It’s completely healed—just like before! It’s incredible!” Dr. Lihua Zhao exclaimed, her face alight with joy. Her delight was that of someone witnessing a beloved recover, her heart swelling as though she had watched a dear one restored to perfect health.

“Just like before?” Xiao Ai was surprised. What did Dr. Zhao mean by that?

“Yes, just as you were before. Child, you’ve been reborn—it’s a miracle.” Her words flowed with the certainty of revelation, as if some divine intervention had occurred, whether or not it was true.

“What was I like before?” Xiao Ai wondered if Dr. Zhao was referring to a time when she had known her.

But Dr. Zhao shook her head, her answer evasive. “Don’t trouble yourself with the past. What matters is that you’re alive now. A miracle has blessed you, my child!”

“I don’t remember anything from before. Do you remember me? Have we known each other a long time?” Xiao Ai pressed, sensing that Dr. Zhao might know more.

Suddenly, Dr. Zhao burst into tears and hugged Xiao Ai tightly, leaving her bewildered. The doctor’s strange, unpredictable behavior always caught her off guard.

Amid this emotional confusion, someone entered the room—it was Dr. Edmund Ai.

“To be honest, you look remarkably like our daughter, Wen,” he said. Xiao Ai turned to look at him.

“Dr. Ai and I are husband and wife,” Dr. Lihua Zhao explained. “Wen is our daughter.”

Xiao Ai was astonished. So that was what they meant—just like before. Not herself as she was, but their daughter. Suddenly, fleeting images flashed through her mind, like electric shocks that brought with them a sharp pain. She glimpsed a white minivan, three people inside laughing, but the images moved too fast for her to grasp any details.

Dr. Edmund Ai retrieved a photograph from his inner pocket—a family portrait that included their daughter. Xiao Ai took the photo and compared it with her reflection in the mirror. The resemblance was undeniable, though she had no memory of ever looking like this.

“Your daughter’s name was Wen? What happened to her?” Xiao Ai asked.

“She’s gone to a very distant place,” Dr. Lihua Zhao replied.

“Where did she go?” Xiao Ai asked, perplexed.

“It doesn’t matter anymore. Now it seems she’s returned. Xiao Ai, you’re no different from her. If you’re willing, we’ll be your parents,” Dr. Zhao pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

Her expression was grave, full of hope that Xiao Ai would accept them, but Xiao Ai herself did not know how to respond.

“Gone to a faraway place? But where is that?” Xiao Ai wanted to know what had truly happened.

But the couple gave her no direct answer. They looked at her with sincere longing.

“Do you really think I’m your daughter? But I have no memories. I don’t know why I am like this,” she pressed again.

“It’s all right, child. Don’t worry. We’ll help you as best we can. Even if you’ve lost your memories, it doesn’t matter. We can start again, from this very moment,” Edmund Ai reassured her.

“Start again?” Xiao Ai echoed. Yet, she still longed for the truth…

“Wen is truly gone. We know you’re not her, but to us, we so dearly wish you could become our family,” Lihua Zhao added.

By ‘gone,’ they must have meant dead. How had Wen died? Pain stabbed through Xiao Ai’s head once more.

She realized she could not probe too deeply—any attempt brought splitting pain. Was it because she was connected to Wen in some way? Was there a link between herself and Wen—

“Do you really want me as your family…?” Xiao Ai hesitated.

Both Lihua Zhao and Edmund Ai nodded, earnest and sincere. They held Xiao Ai’s hands tightly, unwilling to let go. Xiao Ai was moved, though she still felt far from the truth she sought.

In that instant, the world before her rippled like the surface of water, becoming unreal. She saw the couple’s lips move as they spoke, but she could not hear them; they became nothing more than flickering images.

Suddenly, everything froze, as if a film had been paused. The world was utterly still—even a strand of hair suspended midair hung motionless, as though time itself had stopped.

Now only Xiao Ai could move. Then, near her ear, she heard a mechanical clatter, like gears grinding and turning…

It was the same sound she had heard during her last hypnosis. Before her, the scene began to fracture like a puzzle breaking apart, revealing a backdrop of darkness—a void. She was terrified, disoriented. She had sensed all along that this was not reality, and now it was confirmed.

The grinding gears grew louder and louder. Behind her, a monstrous machine composed of countless gears loomed, advancing relentlessly. It moved and expanded, its structure growing ever more complex, morphing and changing, until it consumed all the darkness, filling every corner of her vision. Encased within the machine, she was trapped, sealed tight—yet a voice managed to pierce through.

A surround sound echoed within the closed mechanical space—a man’s voice: “You must have realized by now that where you are is not real. If you want to wake up, you must follow my instructions.”

She had heard this voice before, but could not recall to whom it belonged.

“Don’t hesitate any longer. You must wake up and return to your reality. I’m here to rescue you.”

“Who are you? Who am I?” Xiao Ai demanded.

“There’s no time for questions. You’ll understand once you wake.”

“What do I need to do?”

“Only one person can pass through the path to awakening.”

“What does that mean?”

“You and Xiaoya Xian—only one of you can wake.”

“What’s happened to Xiaoya? Why is she involved?”

“I can only tell you this: she has no desire to return to life. Why not take her place? You need this chance more than she does. Don’t waste time—you must act quickly.”

“What do you mean, she doesn’t want to live? What does that mean?” Xiao Ai demanded.

“There’s no time to explain. I have to insert the implant code now.”

“What code? Where exactly am I? Who am I?”

“The code is—” The voice was abruptly cut off, just as he was about to disclose something crucial.

Suddenly, the giant machine shifted again. Ahead, a dot of light appeared, then expanded into a tunnel of radiance. After a moment’s hesitation, Xiao Ai decided to follow the path.

The tunnel was long, its end nowhere in sight. On either side, images projected onto the walls like a film, replaying scenes in reverse—her memories with Xiaoya, relived backwards. If this continued, as she walked forward, she would eventually see the memories from before they met. Would she finally learn how she had lost her memory? If so, she had to hurry—she quickened her pace.

“You’re going the wrong way! Turn back, do you hear me?” The voice returned, and this time Xiao Ai remembered—it was him! The man who claimed to be Edmund Ai’s partner—Horlen.

Who was he? She wanted her memories back, but he refused to tell her. He did not exist here—he was in the real world outside. It seemed he wanted to control this space, to force Xiao Ai into making the choice he desired.

No, she couldn’t let him dictate her actions. She needed the truth more than anything. Only by understanding her origins could she choose where to go next. Xiao Ai steeled herself. As she made her decision, the crystal pendant on her necklace began to glow softly, flickering like a beacon, showing her the way forward.