When Qiu Miao showed me her photo, I grabbed it, and he was startled, but he still briefly introduced her situation, hoping that I could help.

The company that ruined my first life has changed its name. It's amazing, in just five years, she has climbed to the top of no one else by herself.

When I actually saw her again, she didn't remember me anymore.

I could see the deep marks that time had left on her. The over-the-shoulder curls were trimmed, the dye faded in a few places, and the mottled flaxen color was revealed. The hot curls were not vibrant, just curled stiffly. She doesn't seem to have her nails done anymore, she doesn't wear any jewelry anymore, and her makeup is as simple as a layer of lipstick.

My sensitive sense of smell caught the faint scent of her body, replaced by a high-end liquor mixture.

There was no light in her eyes.

Those eyes were deep and melancholy, a little cold, a little guarded, with a charm peculiar to a mature woman, but also with a kind of indifference that only the misanthropic exists.

The star in her eyes died.

The first time I saw her, I realized a fact that frightened me.

"She's going to die by suicide. ”

But this time I want to save her.

We met several times and finally decided on a preliminary treatment plan. From that moment on, I had actually abandoned the guise of a counselor. I wanted to save her, as a friend, not as a cold doctor-patient relationship.

I know that this is against the rules of the profession. But it doesn't matter, I don't care, I was not born to be responsible for myself and my career, I am only responsible for the people and things I want to be responsible for.

I've lost that opportunity once, and by the time I found out, it was too late, and I couldn't afford to lose a second time.

It's hard to imagine that this building, which was difficult to enter at the beginning, can now allow me to wander leisurely in front of the office of the top director.

Sarcasm, so sarcastic.

Nebula's illness is not a simple mental breakdown, but a terminally ill severe depression.

Thinking about being able to overturn the clouds and rain in a short period of time, covering the sky with one hand, it really can't be a normal means.

We are such people who are obsessed with the dark side of the world.

I couldn't pull her out, but I couldn't let her sink.

It was very painful for me.

I tried my best to be nice to her, and I don't know if it was to make up for my mistakes back then, or if it was some other feeling. Anyway, it's all just wishful thinking on my part.

It's selfish, right? I also know that I am fighting against this invisible fate, to her fate, to my fate.

Soon, with an innate gift for communication, Nebula adapted to my presence. In fact, I was terrified, for fear that if I messed everything up, and if I took one wrong step, I would never recover.

I've never been like this before, it's not like me.

However, I tried to behave as naturally and decently as possible in front of her. In her eyes, I was still not a reliable psychiatrist.

That's fine.

That summer, I took her to the house I had bought in the mountains.

I always knew when she was free, and I checked where I could observe meteor showers.

It was there, under the watchful eyes of the stars, that she confided to me the source of the pain that had been suppressed in her heart.

I never thought that my death would make her what she is. Even though, she doesn't know me at all.

And I don't know her at all.

Perhaps, at first, it was like an insignificant seed that unintentionally fell between the cracks of her heart that day that year. In a bad state of mind, it shriveled down, but it took root silently.

Looking back now, I don't realize that it has become a towering tree.

Then, with a bang, it collapsed.

That summer five years ago, on the cold rooftop, I didn't know her. She was so strange to me, yet like a speculative friend, and now we knew each other well, so close, but I felt far away from her.

It's weird, she's right next to me, isn't she?

I hugged her tightly.

After sending her home, I lay alone in bed, tossing and turning.

A very bad premonition was born...... Maybe I shouldn't have left her alone at home.

I don't know when I fell asleep, maybe I was too tired. I had a dream in which I dreamed of bits and pieces.

In the dream, she died.

A revolver, a bottle of alcohol with a high count, and blood all over the floor.

When I woke up, it was already noon. I know it's not a dream, it's a notice to me from the future.

She doesn't answer the phone, and there's no one in the company. I drove to her house again, and no matter how much I knocked on the door, I got no answer.

...... Is it too late again?

The Galactic Consortium did not leak any news, and even operated as usual, presumably she had been fully prepared a long time ago.

I told myself to stop being impulsive, not to do the stupid things that I did five years ago, and to wait and see what happened until the news of my death was announced.

But why can't I change the future I can see?

It's like telling the condemned prisoner the verdict and throwing him in prison, letting time torment his heart.

It shouldn't be like this.

If only I could change something – change the future.

The uncertainty principle, i.e., in the statement of the law of cause and effect, is not a conclusion, but a premise.

If we know the present exactly, we can foresee the future, and we cannot know all the details of the present, which is a matter of principle.

If there is anything I can do......

If I could change anything......

If......

And so, the gears of fate were in action again.

Within three days, she reappeared in the public eye. She claimed that she had only been in poor health and had rested at home for a few days.

Although when I saw her, I realized that I was still late.

She followed the same path as me.

However, a new statement of the future unfolded before me.

"No matter what happens, our destinies are always linked. ”

Whether it happened objectively or whether I changed the course of my fate, I don't know.

At the same time, I also saw a tiny event:

Nebula is going to erase all of my memories of her.

I don't care.

All she can change is the memory of the past. What I can see is a distant, futuristic, and definite fact. As long as I extrapolate from the conclusion of fate, I will soon understand why it has come to this point and recover those lost memories.

What Nebula could read was the objective facts that she had experienced, and she had no way of knowing the part of the memory that she had recalled from the future.

She could kill her in anyone's heart, but she couldn't erase my memory of her.

A nebula that belongs to me.

She could not cut out these events, which were deduced from the law of cause and effect, and the by-products of the secondary life called affection.

So she made a new judgment — in turn, to erase all traces of my life from her.

There's her style, like what she does.

I still don't care.

As long as I know our end, I have nothing to fear.

But I can't be with her as a counselor anymore. It would be too bothering if she realized that she was deliberately amnesia.

I played a role that had never appeared in her life.

Occasionally I rubbed shoulders with her on the street, or crossed eyes with her in the middle of nowhere.

She doesn't remember me anymore, and I shouldn't know her.

Under the control of Nebula's resolute means and spiritual power, I saw that everything she ran was more prosperous.

I am sincerely pleased.

And I picked a good place, opened a psychology studio, and business was tepid. The location is far from the city center, but also in a residential area, which is relatively prosperous.

After that, a few more years passed.

One night after work, I locked the door. Turning around, in the dim light, I noticed a car parked on the side of the road.

That's not a nebula's......

I bent down and leaned over to find the windows shattered, spreading mesh cracks. There were also new bullet marks on the car, and the rear tire was pierced by large-caliber bullets.

The familiar, bad premonition came again.

What the hell is going on? Fate has never revealed such information to me.

It's too late to dig deeper. I carefully checked my surroundings, and following the bloodstains on the driver's seat, I found an alley not far away.

I saw that familiar figure.

She was draped in a purple coat with some damp marks on one side. She curled up by the wall, breathing heavily.

I took a step forward, and when she saw me, she quickly raised her gun, her sharp gaze like a wolf on a high mountain.

The wolf was wounded.

"Stars ——! nebulae...... Madam. I gritted my teeth and completed the honorific title.

"You ......," she hesitated.

I heard someone's footsteps approaching—a lot of people. They should have followed the trail of blood, too. I rushed over and picked her up without saying a word.

Presumably, this should be another meticulous assassination operation.

Luckily, my car was nearby, so I put her in the passenger seat and I started the engine immediately.

"I'll take you to the hospital. ”

“...... No, I can't go to the hospital, I have important things to do......"

I took a deep breath and quickly thought of what to do.

I remembered that in a shanty town in the remote suburbs, there was a safe house on the road many years ago. I don't know if it's still in use.

The revolver was pressed against my temple, and she stared at me warily. I glanced at it, and the right side of her abdomen was flushed.

"You have bandages in your side pocket. ”

"Who are you?"

I don't know what to say.

"I'm you...... A friend of a friend, a doctor. ”

She cast a meaningful look, felt the bandage in her other hand, and slowly lowered the gun. With some difficulty, she pulled something out of the side of her coat.

A book, black cover, 16K, almost soaked in blood.

My heart tightened.

The bullet was impartial, it hit the lock in the center, it broke, the chain was loosened, and it slipped down with blood. If it hadn't been for the metal, the bullet would have pierced her body and would have been fatal.

Not necessarily a good thing.

Now, the bullet remains in her body. What's more, just a wound on one side is enough to torture people.

Gotta hurry.

By the time we arrived at the safe house, it was completely dark. I carried Nebula over and rummaged through the humble house. But no one has been here for too long, and nothing can be used. Some of the metals have rusted, and even the alcohol has evaporated.

I glanced back occasionally. She leaned against the wall, frowning in pain, but her phone was clutched in her hand, and she was speeding about something.

I slowly recalled that her company's pharmaceutical factory had recently developed a special drug, which was highly toxic. However, small doses can be used as placebo, and there is also a strong addictive nature. The government and other counterparts were keeping an eye on her.

Sure enough, the hospital can't do it, it will be controlled...... Is there any other way, there must be......

- To be continued -