Bengtie: My death fueled their madness.

The back mountain.

The doll carries a bamboo basket and holds a bamboo knife.

Whenever they passed a plum tree, they would stop, carefully select the plumpest and most colorful plum blossoms from the branches, and gently pick them into their baskets.

This scene was all too familiar to Ruan Mei.

The doll is powered by Qi Zhimu's memories, and everything it does is a replica of the years Qi Zhimu lived through.

She watched everything from behind, lost in thought.

Qi Zhimu's memory backup before his death was incomplete.

After successfully curing Durand's amnesia, he no longer needed clinical trials or to be connected to the healing equipment, and naturally, there was no backup of his subsequent memories.

The memories that dolls possess do not include those of the time that followed.

Wanting to know what he was thinking in his last moments before he left is ultimately just wishful thinking...

The doll's silhouette almost overlapped with the figure in her memory, yet Ruan Mei felt only unfamiliarity with it, even finding it jarring.

She finally understood why Yu Qingtu had said those words back then.

No matter how similar they look, they don't have Qi Zhimu's soul.

But ah...

It is this soulless puppet that has been consistently carrying out the meta-instructions for hundreds of years.

It has never failed its creator.

And what about her?

Ruan Mei's eyes were filled with sorrow.

That promise to take responsibility for Amu had long been forgotten.

Not only did they completely forget everything, but they also pinned all the blame on him.

The greatest sorrow is a broken heart.

Qi Zhimu's two stripping away of his deepest memories is no different from enduring the most cruel punishment in the world.

The cause of all the bitterness was herself from beginning to end!

He started it all with his own hands, but he also destroyed it all with his own hands, bringing that time together to an end.

Ruan Mei's gaze fell once more on the puppet picking plum blossoms in front of her, and she felt as if all her strength had been drained away.

A thought uncontrollably crept into my mind—

If Qi Zhimu hadn't created it before he died, would I have known all of this sooner?

Do not……

Even if we know, what can we change?

From the moment the doll was activated, everything was beyond repair.

Ruan Mei walked up the stone steps, her steps heavy.

In a hazy state, I seemed to see past scenes appearing in front of me.

A boy, barely taller than her shoulder, followed beside her, step by step, toward the mountaintop.

Ruan Mei blinked subconsciously, but there was nothing in front of her.

A sense of loss spread silently from the depths of my heart.

Before I knew it, I had reached the top of the mountain, and a view I had never seen before unfolded before my eyes.

Sunlight streamed down from the sky, filtering through the red and white plum branches and painting light, mottled patterns on the unmelted snow.

There was no wind, no rain, and the snow had temporarily stopped.

Just a few more steps forward, and you'll be immersed in this tranquil and peaceful scene.

Many years ago, there were very few plum trees here.

In the hundred years since Qi Zhimu returned to his hometown, he has transformed this winter mountaintop into a sea of ​​flowers.

Flowers may bloom again, but youth will never return.

Ruan Mei's gaze wandered aimlessly before suddenly fixing on one spot.

Memories buried for hundreds of years surged violently, allowing her to recognize the plum tree.

It was planted by her own hands years ago, and it's still alive.

Both Qi Zhimu and the puppets he created took excellent care of the plum tree.

Seeing these objects evokes memories of the person I once spent every day with, and fragments of our time together flash uncontrollably through my mind, a dull ache creeping into my heart.

"...That is..."

Ruan Mei's somber face tightened, her gaze fixed intently on the old plum tree.

A stone tablet stands alone under a tree.

The base was covered by snow, but the inscription on the monument was still clearly legible.

[Qi Zhimu's Tomb]

Ruan Mei's breath hitched.

She moved closer step by step, the snow crunching softly under her feet.

Apart from those five characters, there is nothing else on the monument.

There are no birth or death dates, not a single word about his life; it is so clean it is heartbreaking.

The doll came to the monument and reached out to brush away the thin layer of snow that had accumulated along its edge.

Ruan Mei looked at it, then at the monument, and a question slipped out.

"...Did he make you stand there?"

"No, the stone tablet was erected by Miss Black Swan."

"The Black Swan...is it Clarisse?"

"Yes, before Qi Zhimu passed away, he asked Miss Black Swan to bury him under this plum tree."

Ruan Mei stood there, stunned.

She couldn't help but speculate and hope.

Does choosing the plum tree she planted as his final resting place after death mean that Amu still harbored love for her in his heart?

He couldn't forget it even until he died?

Ah Mu never hated her until his death... Is that true?

The mountains were completely silent.

Ruan Mei slowly bent down and reached out to touch the cold surface of the monument.

The chill seeped into my fingertips, but it couldn't compare to the emptiness spreading through my heart.

Six hundred years ago, I thought I had only temporarily lost a student.

I used to think that as long as I reached the end of the journey, I could find him again.

Standing before this monument now, I understand—

What she lost was an irreplaceable person who solemnly incorporated everything about her, even the casual words she uttered, into the trajectory of her life.

Amu left her only a plate of pickled plum and soybean cake that had been forgotten, and a doll that faithfully carried out her orders.

And...this stone tablet.

A mountain breeze rose quietly at some point, passing through the plum grove and brushing a few plum petals from the branches.

The puppet picked up the bamboo basket again and moved on to the next plum tree to continue its harvesting work.

Ruan Mei stood in front of the monument for a long time, whispering softly.

"Amu..."

The wind rustled through the plum branches, but no one answered.

Only that puppet, neither too close nor too far, continued to carry out its assigned mission as always.

Picking plums, protecting the forest.

Year after year.

Ruan Mei took out the dish of pickled plum and soybean cake, picked up a piece and put it in her mouth, not caring at all whether it was spoiled, and chewed slowly.

The familiar taste, spanning hundreds of years, spreads across the tip of the tongue, awakening the warmest memories deep within the taste buds.

It's exactly the same as what Amu made when he was 18.

But why...

The feeling of eating it is completely different from back then?

The emotions that had been suppressed for hundreds of years without her realizing it, along with the fact that she had lost Qi Zhimu forever, completely shattered her defenses.

That unprecedented emotion, a burning regret, overwhelmed all the excuses I could use to deceive myself.

"..."

Even after her parents passed away and her grandmother went missing, Ruan Mei never shed a single tear.

She always told herself that tears couldn't change anything.

But at this moment, clear tears slid down her cheeks, which were shrouded in heavy shadows.

One snowflake after another fell onto the snow piled up in front of the monument, melting away to leave small, deep marks.

She could no longer escape.

It turns out, she was capable of shedding tears.

But those tears can only be reserved for one person after a sufficiently long period of time.

Ruan Mei looked at the cold stone tablet, as if she could see through it the young man who was always quietly by her side.

Regret?

It's more than just regret.

Should I hate myself for being slow-witted, for being arrogant, or for not recognizing his silent companionship sooner?

She missed the rest of Amu's life.

Ah Mu left with a deep, unspoken love, leaving an eternal mark on her for the rest of her life.