Chapter 117

Chapter 117: Recent Memories

“What’s this?”  

Early in the morning, still groggy from sleep, Yiwen found herself cornered at her bedroom door by Mi Xiaoliu, who was inexplicably balancing a cat on her head—as she unceremoniously shoved a small box into her hands.  

It looked like one of those Christmas gift boxes, but it was summer. Christmas was impossible.  

That left only one other explanation.  

“Happy birthday?” Mi Xiaoliu’s greeting sounded more like a hesitant question.  

Sasha had fed her the line, but she didn’t understand why birthdays were supposed to be happy.  

“Thanks… but how did you even know it was my birthday?” Yiwen herself had forgotten. Though just last year, she’d still been the type to aggressively remind her family weeks in advance.  

Ugh. Without realizing it, I’ve already turned into a sixteen-year-old fossil.  

“Auntie told me to give it to you,” Mi Xiaoliu answered, then suddenly remembered Raven’s instructions and corrected himself. “Auntie said I wanted to give it to you.”  

Yiwen: “…”  

Seriously? Whatever. Saves me the awkwardness.  

Previously, Mi Xiaoliu had always referred to Raven by her full name. But before leaving, Heli had passed on the sacred art of forehead flicks to Raven. After two sharp flicks to the skull, Mi Xiaoliu obediently switched to calling her “Auntie.”  

It also gave Raven some insight into why Mi Xiaoliu so vehemently disliked people reaching for her head from the front.  

That said, it did nothing to dispel Raven’s suspicions that Mi Xiaoliu had suffered domestic abuse from her father’s side.  

Yiwen unwrapped the gift—a silver necklace. Guess only Mom and Toby would still give me girly presents like this…  

She shot Mi Xiaoliu with a mischievous look. “This is from my mom. So, where’s your gift?”  

“…”  

Mi Xiaoliu pondered for two seconds, then turned and retreated to her room. After some rustling, she returned and handed Yiwen a white sock—its toe-shaped creases making it abundantly clear it had been worn.  

“Get lost!” Yiwen’s face burned as she shoved the sock (And the cat perched on Mi Xiaoliu’s head) directly into his (her) face.  

—  

Yiwen’s birthday turned out to be lively.  

Her class group chat had buzzed early in the morning, with everyone coordinating plans to celebrate at a restaurant that evening. Apparently, some sharp-eyed admirer had memorized her birthday from the school’s health records.  

Luckily, Yiwen had never publicly shared her birthday online during her “Silence” phase. Otherwise, people might’ve connected the dots between her hair color, eye color, and certain other implications.  

Night fell.  

The restaurant near Yiwen’s house was packed.  

Not the entire class had come, but the turnout was decent—mostly girls. It seemed the Dream Game incident hadn’t dampened their spirits much.  

Without memories of the dream world, it felt more like recovering from an illness. Sure, some people had died from it, but they’d been the ones to pull through.  

None of their friends or family had been lost, so others’ grief didn’t really concern them. At most, they might casually drop a “Yeah, I played that game too” to flex their survivor cred.  

Toby sat stiffly in a corner, silently grinding on his phone—trying way too hard to look cool.  

But next to Yiwen, his presence just seemed… lackluster. That didn’t stop a few girls from striking up conversations with him, though—probably eyeing him as potential “brother-in-law” material.  

Shallow.  

Barrett’s gaze lingered on Mi Xiaoliu, who was seated beside Yiwen, and she couldn’t help but feel a twinge of irritation.  

Mi Xiaoliu, however, couldn’t care less. 

Mi Xiaoliu’s sole focus was: When does the food arrive?  

“Dude, why is it all girls here?” Jim muttered uncomfortably, sliding into the seat next to Mi Xiaoliu. At least with Mi Xiaoliu and Yiwen around, he wasn’t the only guy—otherwise, he might’ve died of social asphyxiation.  

He wasn’t the type to effortlessly charm a room full of women.  

The last time he’d attended a birthday party this extravagant was… well, his dad’s birthday. Relatives had flooded their house, someone got drunk and insisted on playing Truth or Dare, and Jim’s father lost to Jim—choosing “Truth.”  

So, Jim asked which hand his dad preferred to use.  

Yes. That hand.  

That night, his dad had “accidentally” beaten him with a bottle of expiring medicated liquor—”Waste not, want not.”  

“Xiaoliu,” Jim whispered, “did you give Yiwen a gift?”  

Mi Xiaoliu looked up, thinking.  

Technically, yes. But she rejected it.  

Later, Yiwen had said gifts weren’t necessary—no rule demanded birthday presents. Saving her life was already the best gift.  

Yiwen’s birthday meant a restaurant outing. Yiwen’s birthday meant receiving presents.  

It was nothing like her own.

“My gift isn’t wrapped, so here.” Jim presented a square object draped with a cloth to Yiwen.  

Over the past two months, with Mi Xiaoliu as their mutual connection, Jim had grown closer to Yiwen. The three of them occasionally teamed up for online games, so he’d put some thought into her birthday gift—even going so far as to ask Zhang Huba about her preferences.  

Zhang Huba had informed him that, aside from tennis, Yiwen enjoyed elegant and artistic music.  

That was out of Jim’s league—he couldn’t carry a tune to save his life, and he wasn’t about to subject anyone to that. But maybe she’d appreciate other forms of art, like paintings.  

He’d ordered a replica of a world-famous masterpiece online. Even if it was a copy, it would still look classy hanging in a living room—surely the star of tonight’s celebration.  

The World-Famous Masterpiece: The Last Supper.  

Predictably, the room fell dead silent when he unveiled it.  

Zhang Huba broke the awkwardness with a forced chuckle. “Uh, hey, the restaurant gave Yiwen longevity noodles for her birthday… Waiter! Are the noodles ready yet?”  

When the server brought out the dish, Jim couldn’t resist muttering, “Isn’t this just regular noodles?”  

“…”  

The rest of the meal was painfully uncomfortable for Jim. What’s with these girls spinning the lazy Susan every time I try to grab food? Zero spatial awareness.  

—  

On the way home, Toby led the way while he and Mi Xiaoliu—both significantly shorter—struggled under armfuls of gifts for Yiwen.  

“You’ve never been this popular before,” Toby remarked.  

Yiwen’s feminine charm far outshone her male persona’s appeal.  

“Yeah…”  

Even though she’d said no gifts were necessary, everyone had enthusiastically brought them anyway.  

Most were things geared toward boys, though—Toby would probably end up with them. She’d have to share some with Mi Xiaoliu, too. His room was barren aside from Newton’s cradle and the occasional cat.  

“Wonder if all those cyberbullies died in the game,” Toby muttered under his breath.  

Yiwen smacked him.  

“Don’t say that.” She glanced at Mi Xiaoliu, but his expression was, as always, unreadable. His attention seemed elsewhere.  

(Though, if she were honest, she’d caught herself wishing the same thing.)  

I’d love to beat the crap out of that reporter. Not just a slap—properly hospitalize her.  

But even knowing the mastermind behind it all, she was powerless.  

She was a police officer.  

She needed this job to find her father.  

And as an officer, she had to suppress these impulses.  

—  

Back home, Mi Xiaoliu lay sprawled across the table, locked in a staring contest with Circle (Quanquan). Neither moved.  

Circle (Quanquan) tilted its head in confusion.  

Mi Xiaoliu mirrored the motion.  

Circle (Quanquan) tilted the other way.  

Mi Xiaoliu followed suit, mimicking the cat’s every move.  

“Sasha,” he asked suddenly, “are birthdays supposed to be happy?”  

“Generally, yes. They’re tied to celebration,” Sasha replied.  

Mi Xiaoliu didn’t understand. Staring at his nearly depleted funds, he initiated another memory extraction.  

“Master, please don’t—your birthday memories might be categorized as blanks,” Sasha warned.  

Mi Xiaoliu didn’t listen.  

If they were happy, why would he avoid remembering them?  

Then he pulled a strange fragment—one from just two days prior. It was the first time he’d retrieved a memory formed after his amnesia.  

(Thankfully, the system wasn’t shady enough to lump future memories into the prize pool as filler.)  

This particular fragment had been inaccessible in the data world: Amari Youta telling him Yiwen was Jingyin.  

A familiar name.  

Mi Xiaoliu fumbled with her phone, opened a music app, and navigated to her favorites. The girl in the MV stared back at him.  

The resemblance was uncanny.  

Yiwen is Jingyin (Silence).  

But when Mi Xiaoliu accidentally swiped to the comments section, she found them flooded with vitriol.  

They tore into everything—her singing, her character, even speculating whether her looks were just filters and makeup. The mob unleashed their malice freely, drowning out the occasional defender with mocking emoji replies.  

Mi Xiaoliu stared blankly at the screen.  

A dull ache settled in her chest.  

“Master,” Sasha murmured softly, “this is what they call cyberbullying.”