Wherever you go,

should all be remembered,

The past is all fake,

Memories are a road with no end,

All the past springs are gone,

Even the most tenacious and frantic love is nothing more than a fleeting reality in the final analysis.

Only loneliness is eternal.

—————— Marquez's "One Hundred Years of Solitude"

A person's life is made up of countless time fragments connected together, forming a picture and weaving into a memory deep in the mind.

Once you break from somewhere in your memory, what will happen for the rest of your life?

In Mu Zixiao's current 27 years of life, it seems that such a situation has occurred, in her originally smooth memory, at a certain memory node, it was suddenly interrupted, so there was a gap of six years in her life.

The image that was originally in my mind was shattered, split into countless stumps, and then dissipated in my memory little by little......

I don't have any memory...... It's like a stroke left on a piece of paper, and I don't know who erased it with an eraser, and what is left for her is a seemingly complete but fragmented memory.

……

Hypnosis, psycho-compulsive intervention, this feeling is not at all uncomfortable.

The feeling of suffocating like drowning......

Vaguely she seemed to hear someone keep shouting her name in her ear, and there were figures in front of her, they were all walking back and forth, as if they were shouting something in a hurry, but she was confused in front of her, and she couldn't see the appearance of those people clearly, only the overlapping figures.

I don't know what it was on the ground, flashing and flashing......

Cracked lines...... It was as if something had shattered to the ground, was it glass, or was it crystal? It was densely shattered on the ground, and when the sun shone through, the ground was shining......

The picture in front of her was suddenly shrouded in light, dazzling, and fierce, but for a moment she fell into complete darkness, her breathing became more and more rapid, more and more difficult, she was like a drowning person, making a final struggle before she was about to sink to the bottom of the sea.

His body broke out in a cold sweat and opened his eyes suddenly.

"Miss Mu, how are you feeling now?"

There was a buzzing in my ears, but this time it sounded like a lot of sound, and even my breathing slowly became smoother.

"Miss Mu, can you hear me?"

Her body, which had been light, slowly became heavy, and a strong pressure hit her, forcing her to see the real world clearly.

The blurred figure gradually focused in front of her, the outline gradually became clear, then clearer again, her eyes slowly converged, and finally regained their brilliance.

Inhaling slowly, she smelled a strange fragrance, fluttered her eyelashes, and looked at the ceiling above her head for a long time before she came to her senses.

A bony hand stretched out in front of her, handed her a tissue, and a nice male voice reached her ears, "Miss Mu, you can rest and wipe your sweat first." ”

Breathing slowly and evenly, with a glass of boiled water at just the right temperature in front of her, she felt that her mouth was dry, so she picked up the glass and drank a few sips.

It's uncomfortable, it's like being pulled back from the edge of death, and the feeling of tearing is real, but it's really disgusting.

After each treatment, she drank some warm water to relieve her anxiety.

The person in front of her was her psychiatrist, Nie Chen, a well-known authoritative psychotherapist in Pingchuan City.

After her mood stabilized a little, Nie Chen sat opposite her, and the light made him look a little unreal, but he couldn't hide the nobility that came out of him, he helped his eyes on the bridge of his nose, and asked, "Miss Mu, your mood fluctuates a lot this time, have you seen any pictures?" ”

Shaking her head in annoyance, until now her hand holding the cup was trembling, her face was as pale as a patient, she leaned back into the back of her chair, her fingers tugging at her eyebrows, "It's all some vague pictures, I'm not sure myself, those are my own memories or my own dreams." ”