Ah Quan lifted the teapot, pausing mid-pour for a moment before finishing with a steady stream into the cup. "That depends on how you define 'human,'" he said, not looking up. "Is it someone with a heartbeat, blood, life, and death? Or someone with thoughts, memories, joys, and sorrows?"
With a faint smile, he handed the teacup to Lin Sanjiu. "If it's the former, then I stopped being human long ago. But by my own standards, I am human, certainly more so than your two friends."
Lin Sanjiu felt a tightness in her chest as she took the cup, her eyes locked on Ah Quan. "You—you know my friends?"
"Yes, I know where they are." Ah Quan settled one leg over the other, taking a sip of his tea. "It's rather embarrassing, really. The kid with long hair stumbled right into my memoir. Naturally, I couldn't leave him there, so I directed him to another memoir. He was looking for you, so I showed him a place with a clear path of footprints leading off in the distance... He followed those, thinking they would lead him to you."
Though she knew they had intruded into his domain and that Ah Quan was simply reacting to an unexpected situation, Lin Sanjiu couldn't help but feel a rush of anger, instinctive and fierce.
She had to reason with herself to tamp down her frustration before she managed to ask, "How long has he been in the memoir? Is he alright? Where did he go? Can you bring him back?"
Strangely, if the same thing had happened to her, she would have seen it as just another unavoidable challenge—part of surviving in a chaotic world. But for it to happen to the grand prize felt somehow wrong.
Ah Quan studied her, eyebrows raised in slight surprise at her intensity.
"He's clearly a very important friend to you."
"Yes," she replied.
Ah Quan set down his teacup, a smile playing at his lips. "Although I can't quite understand why, you don't need to worry about him. In terms of mental stability, he's the most secure among you and... well, the other one who can only loosely be called human. But from another perspective, he's the most at risk. Because if you hadn't found me, I would have left him trapped in the memoir forever."
Lin Sanjiu froze. "I... don't understand what you mean."
Ah Quan pulled a magazine from somewhere nearby and flipped through it noisily.
Seeing the tabloid-style headlines and bright color photos on the cover, Lin Sanjiu could barely suppress a disbelieving laugh—was every one of these memoirs held by this man in a cheap magazine?
"Here," he said, tapping the magazine. "Starting with this one... well, his luck isn't great. Though he knew enough to avoid triggering the core memories, he still set off five memoirs—the most out of any of you."
Lin Sanjiu's heart clenched, but before she could speak, Ah Quan continued, "However, he wasn't affected at all."
Her surprise this time came with a completely different weight.
"I... I don't understand."
Ah Quan looked at her and repeated, "It means exactly that. No matter how many memories he experienced, he wasn't affected at all."
Lin Sanjiu was stunned, unable to think of anything else to say except, "I don't understand."
After a moment, she muttered, "But that's impossible." Her fingers traced circles on her combat pants. "You know as well as I do that when we trigger a memory, we're fully 'alive' in the host's body, feeling everything they feel... Oh, I see. You must have mistaken my other friend for him. He probably wouldn't react since he doesn't have human emotions."
Ah Quan thought for a few seconds, then replied, "No, I'm sure I didn't confuse them. The one I'm talking about is a beautiful kid with hair about this long"—he gestured to his chest—"whose gender you can't quite pin down." He looked at her. "Would you like to see him? But don't get too close."
Before Lin Sanjiu could respond, "How are you going to show me," Ah Quan had already flipped open the magazine.
She had seen countless people, duoluozhongs, objects, and abilities rush at her, but this was the first time she saw an entire world rushing out of a page. The scene from the full-page picture sprang forward, enveloping her like a tidal wave and pulling her into it.
Without warning from Mrs. Manas or any sense of danger, Lin Sanjiu found herself "floating" on a long, sandy beach.
It was an overcast day, with a gray mist hanging over the distant sea. A girl sat on what must have once been a white beach, now turned a dull grayish-blue. She sat quietly, listening to the waves breaking in the muted world around her. Behind her, long-legged seabirds pecked at the sand.
It was all too strange; what she saw felt layered—without turning her head, she could sense a second layer of the scene beneath the first, like stacked paintings. By focusing her will, she filtered out the top layer, and Ji Shanqing came into view.
He stood on the same beach, precisely where the girl was seated, framed by the pale light and haunting mist.
Ah Quan's voice sounded somewhere nearby. "That girl is the owner of the memoir. Your friend should be experiencing everything she feels. There's nothing dramatic in her memory. She spent her life drifting outside the crowd. Her whole memory is gray and dull, and every time I look into it, I feel a faint, inexplicable sadness."
But Ji Shanqing's expression held none of that melancholy; he was frowning, looking irritated, as if he had something more important to do than watch a show he had no interest in. He was clearly aware of his own identity, and Lin Sanjiu, well-acquainted with all his expressions, could tell he was mentally timing himself.
"I... I didn't expect..." As she spoke, her vision blurred. When it cleared, Ah Quan had already turned the page back. Lin Sanjiu stared blankly at the magazine. "The one who should be unaffected is Yu Yuan... he has no emotions."
"Your other friend?" Ah Quan gave a faint smile. "He's on the opposite extreme. Since I'm prepared to help you, I'll pull him back now. You'd better wake him quickly. He's become so deeply immersed that he's started showing physical signs. He's already stopped breathing a few times."