The village woke before the sun. Not because the roosters had begun crowing or the merchants were preparing their stalls. It woke because someone was screaming. The sound came from the village square, sharp and desperate, cutting through the quiet streets. A woman carrying a basket stopped in the middle of the road. The vegetables inside rolled against one another as she turned towards the sound. "What happened?" she asked, gripping the basket tightly.
An old man beside her hurriedly pulled his coat over his shoulders. "I don't know. It sounds like Zhao Wei's voice." A young shopkeeper stepped out of his doorway, still tying the belt around his robe. "Did something happen to his family?" he asked. No one answered. They simply began moving towards the square. The scream came again, followed by a man's broken voice. "I remember both! Both are true! Which one is mine?!" Yan Luo heard it first. He had not slept. The visions from the basin had kept returning to his mind throughout the night: the layered pasts, the fractured memories, and that hollow space shaped like Xu Yang.When the scream reached there, he was already on his feet. Qing Li looked towards Yan Luo, still trying to wake himself up. "Enemy?" he asked.
Yan Luo shook his head and headed for the door. "Worse." Qing Li glanced at him, "You could at least give me a more encouraging answer before sunrise." Yan Luo did not slow down. "Would you prefer a demon attack?" Qing Li followed him outside. "At this point, yes. At least demons usually have the courtesy to explain why they're trying to kill us." The two hurried towards the square. By the time they arrived, a crowd had gathered around a middle-aged farmer kneeling on the ground. Several villagers stood at a distance, too frightened to approach.
A woman held her child's hand tightly, while another man kept looking between Zhao Wei and the road leading out of the village. "Move back!" an elderly villager called, raising both hands to stop the crowd from pressing closer. "Give him some room!" "But he's not making any sense!" another villager replied, stepping behind the elderly man. "He keeps saying his wife is alive!" "His wife died three years ago," someone whispered. "I attended the funeral myself." At the centre of the crowd, Zhao Wei clutched his head with both hands. His clothes were untidy, and his eyes were bloodshot. He looked around as if he were searching for someone among the villagers, but every face seemed to confuse him further.
Qing Li recognised him immediately. Zhao Wei was usually a quiet man, known for keeping his fields neat and following the same daily routine. Seeing him in this state was unsettling. "What happened to him?" Qing Li asked, stepping closer. Yan Luo's gaze remained fixed on the farmer. "We should ask him before the villagers frighten him further." He moved through the crowd and crouched in front of Zhao Wei. "Tell us what you remember." Zhao Wei looked up at him, breathing in short, uneven bursts. "My wife..." he said hoarsely, pressing one hand against his chest. "My wife is alive." A murmur passed through the crowd. A woman near the front covered her mouth, while the old man beside her lowered his eyes.
Everyone knew Zhao Wei's wife had died three years ago. Yan Luo kept his voice calm. "You remember her death?" Zhao Wei nodded quickly. "I buried her." he said, his fingers digging into his sleeves. "I remember the rain... The mud. The weight of the coffin. I remember standing beside her grave until the others forced me to leave." His voice shook. Then he looked towards the road leading to his house. "But this morning, she was cooking." The crowd fell silent. "I could smell the porridge," he whispered, staring at his trembling hands. "She was standing near the stove, telling me I had forgotten to bring rice from the market." He swallowed hard. "I buried her, and I ate breakfast with her."
Qing Li's glanced at Yan Luo, but the latter did not look away from Zhao Wei. "Both memories appeared when you woke up?" Yan Luo asked, leaning slightly closer. Zhao Wei nodded desperately. "They're both real!" he cried, grabbing Yan Luo's sleeve. "I can smell the incense from her funeral, and I can smell the porridge she made today. I remember holding her hand when she died. I also remember her complaining because I left the door open!" His grip tightened. "Which life is mine?" No one answered. At the edge of the square, a black cat sat on the stone wall.
Xu Yang's tail lay still beside his paws. He could see the faint, shimmering threads clinging to Zhao Wei's chest. The threads twisted around each other like vines fighting for the same tree.Well, that's new. Yesterday, the system was busy deciding which memories to erase. Now it's giving people two complete lives to choose from. Does it think everyone has enough free time to deal with this?... Shen Lian moved through the crowd with calm authority. She raised one hand, directing the villagers away from Zhao Wei. "Give him space!" she ordered, looking towards the men standing closest to him. "And stop shouting questions at him. You're only making it worse." One of the villagers hesitated before stepping back. "But, Miss Shen, what if he's possessed?" he asked, glancing nervously at Zhao Wei.
Shen Lian turned towards him. "If he were possessed, do you think your shouting would frighten the thing inside him?" The villager immediately closed his mouth and moved away. Qing Li lowered his head slightly, hiding a faint smile. "She has a point." he murmured, glancing at Yan Luo. "You should remember that the next time you decide to question something dangerous." Yan Luo gave him a flat look. "I don't shout at dangerous things." Qing Li raised an eyebrow. "No, you simply stare at them until they regret existing." Yan Luo ignored him and returned his attention to Zhao Wei. Shen Lian knelt before the farmer. She studied his face. "Do you remember the day after the funeral?" she asked, placing one hand against her knee.
Zhao Wei nodded. "Yes." "And do you remember the morning after breakfast today?" she continued, watching him closely. "Yes!" Zhao Wei grabbed her sleeve. "Both exist! They won't disappear!" His voice dropped into a frightened whisper. "They're fighting." Yan Luo felt it then. A pressure in the air, like something pushing against the world from the other side. It was not wind. It was resistance. Reality itself seemed unwilling to decide which version should remain. He raised his eyes towards the horizon.
For a brief moment, the distant sky flickered. A faint lattice-line appeared, pulsed once, and disappeared. Qing Li noticed it too. His expression darkened. "It's accelerating." he said, turning towards Yan Luo. Yan Luo nodded slowly. "The splitting is spreading faster than before." Xu Yang closed his eyes. He could feel the pull now. The threads were not only twisting around Zhao Wei. They were leaning towards him. Of course they are. Why wouldn't they? Apparently, being a cat wasn't enough trouble. Now the entire village has decided to make me responsible for its memories...Zhao Wei suddenly turned his head towards the road. "My wife is calling me." he whispered, his voice barely audible.
The crowd went silent. He stared at the empty space between the houses. "She's in the house..." His lips trembled. "And in the grave." A thin, broken laugh escaped him. "If I go home, which door will open?" No one answered. Shen Lian drew a narrow talisman strip from her sleeve and pressed it against Zhao Wei's forehead. "Stay still," she instructed, keeping one hand near his shoulder. "Don't follow every voice you hear." Zhao Wei closed his eyes, trembling beneath her touch.
For a moment, the air stilled. The threads around him became visible, faint silver strands splitting and rejoining like frayed rope. Qing Li inhaled sharply. He stepped closer, staring at the strands. "You can see them too?" he asked, turning towards Shen Lian. She did not look up. "They're rewriting him." Before anyone could say more, Zhao Wei suddenly froze. His expression went blank, and his body became completely still. The talisman beneath Shen Lian's fingers darkened before burning to ash. For one heartbeat, the entire square seemed to hold its breath. Then Zhao Wei whispered, "She died."
A wave of relief passed through the villagers. Someone near the back let out a shaky breath, while the woman holding her child's hand lowered her shoulders. But Zhao Wei spoke again. "She's waiting at home." The relief vanished. Qing Li stared at him. "That didn't work." he muttered, rubbing his forehead. Yan Luo's gaze remained on the farmer. "No. It made the choice for a moment, but the other memory returned." High above them, invisible to most of the villagers, a thin line of light drew itself across the morning sky. The Heaven lattice was reinforcing itself. Correcting. Or perhaps choosing.
Yan Luo looked upwards. "It's trying to stabilize the memories." he said, his voice low. Qing Li's jaw tightened. "By selecting one version." Shen Lian slowly rose to her feet. "And erasing the other." she finished, brushing the ash from her fingers. Xu Yang's claws tightened against the stone wall. There it is again. The same solution. If two things cannot exist together, simply remove one...Zhao Wei reached out and grabbed Shen Lian's sleeve again. "Tell me," he begged, looking up at her with desperate eyes. "Which one should I keep?" Shen Lian's composure faltered, just slightly. She looked at him, but no answer came.The black cat leapt down from the wall.
The villagers instinctively stepped aside as he approached. Animals often sensed storms before humans did, and something about this cat made the air feel like the moment before lightning struck. Xu Yang stopped in front of Zhao Wei. Their eyes met. For a moment, the threads paused. Xu Yang did not speak. He simply held the farmer's gaze. The threads loosened slightly. They were not resolving. They were waiting. Yan Luo noticed the change at once. "He's resisting." he murmured, watching the silver strands.Qing Li turned towards him. "Resisting what?" he asked, lowering his voice. "The system forcing a choice." Yan Luo replied, his eyes still fixed on Zhao Wei.
The strands around the farmer flickered. One set dimmed, then brightened again. The other followed. Slowly, both stabilized. They were not merged. They were not severed. They were suspended. Zhao Wei's body finally relaxed, and he slumped forward, unconscious.The villagers carried him home. A few people tried to ask questions, but no one seemed able to find the right words. The woman with the basket watched them disappear down the road before quietly turning to her neighbour. "Do you think he'll remember us when he wakes?" she asked, gripping the basket against her waist. Her neighbour looked towards the empty square. "I hope he remembers which house is his." Neither of them noticed the black cat watching from behind the crowd.
Shen Lian approached Xu Yang and stopped a few steps away. "You interfered." she said quietly, studying his golden eyes. Xu Yang flicked one ear. He had no intention of explaining himself, especially when he did not fully understand what he had done. Shen Lian looked towards the road where Zhao Wei had disappeared. "You prevented the selection." Qing Li exhaled slowly and glanced between her and the cat. "I suppose that's better than watching someone lose half his life before breakfast." Yan Luo gave him a tired look. "You find the strangest things to joke about." Qing Li shrugged, lowering his sword. "If I stop joking, I'll have to start worrying. I would rather not do that before I've eaten."
The shrine bell rang once in the distance. Its sound travelled across the rooftops and faded into the trees. Qing Li's expression became serious again. "If more people develop dual memories..." "They will!" Yan Luo interrupted, his gaze fixed on the shrine. Qing Li looked at him. "You could at least let me finish." Yan Luo turned towards him. "You were going to say we cannot save them all." Qing Li sighed. "I was. Thank you for ruining my sentence." Yan Luo lowered his voice. "We cannot save them all. Not with the way things are changing." He looked down at Xu Yang. "But he might be able to." Both men turned towards the cat.
Xu Yang stared back at them. Wonderful. Now I'm not only a cat. I'm also the village's emergency memory service. Does anyone know where I can submit a complaint?... Far below the village, the anchor stirred.That night, as Zhao Wei slept, he dreamed. In the dream, he stood before his wife's grave. The stone was clean, and the flowers beside it were fresh. He could still remember the day he had buried her. He remembered the rain falling against his shoulders and the cold earth beneath his knees.
Behind him, a door opened. He turned. His house stood at the end of a familiar path, and warm light spilled from its windows. From inside came his wife's voice. "You're back? Why did you take so long?" Zhao Wei looked towards the grave, then towards the house. Both places felt familiar. Both belonged to him. He took one step forward, then stopped. Between the two paths sat a black cat. Its golden eyes watched him without moving. Zhao Wei stared at it for a long time. "Which way should I go?" he asked, his voice trembling. The cat did not answer. It only watched and waited, as if the decision no longer belonged to him alone.
The next morning, Villagers had gathered outside of Zhao Wei's house again, whispering in uneasy groups. No one dared step inside. A young man carrying a basket of vegetables stopped near the doorway and looked towards the others. "Has he woken up?" he asked, shifting the basket against his hip. An elderly woman shook her head. "Not yet. They say he was speaking in his sleep." The young man glanced at the closed door. "What was he saying?" "His wife's name," she replied, lowering her voice. "Over and over again."
Another villager looked towards the cemetery hill. "Perhaps we should call a physician." The elderly woman frowned. "And what will you tell him? That a dead woman is cooking breakfast?" The young man immediately lowered his head. "I suppose that would be difficult to explain." Inside the house, Yan Luo pushed the wooden door open carefully. The room smelled faintly of incense and porridge. Zhao Wei lay on the bed where the villagers had placed him. He was still unconscious, and sweat had soaked through his clothes. His face twitched as if he were struggling with something in his sleep. Qing Li entered behind Yan Luo and glanced around the room. "At least the house looks normal," he said, carefully stepping around a wooden stool. Yan Luo gave him a brief look. "You said that too early."
Qing Li followed his gaze towards the table beside the window. His expression changed. Two bowls sat on the table. One was empty. The other was half-full. Both were still warm. Qing Li slowly approached them and touched the side of one bowl. "It wasn't there before." he said, looking towards Yan Luo. Yan Luo nodded. "No. It wasn't." The air in the room trembled faintly. It was not a visible movement, but the sensation was unmistakable.Hundreds of thesreds clung to Zhao Wei's chest like strands of silver fog, weaving and unweaving as if two invisible hands were fighting over the shape of his life.
One set carried the faint scent of incense and damp soil. The other carried the warmth of fresh porridge and the memory of quiet morning laughter. Both were real. Both were wrong. Xu Yang sat on the stone ledge beneath the window. He did not move. The threads around Zhao Wei were clearer here than anywhere else in the village.He could feel the deeper current beneath them, the pull from the shrine and the silent gravity of the anchor trying to resolve the contradiction. It wanted one answer.Reality could not tolerate two versions of the same past for long.I wonder whether the system has considered giving everyone a second stomach to go with their second life...
Shen Lian stepped beside the bed and placed two fingers against Zhao Wei's temple. Her cultivation energy spread outward like ripples in water. For a moment, the threads revealed themselves fully. Silver strands stretched through the room, passing through the walls, roof beams, and even the ground beneath them.Two bundles of threads coiled around Zhao Wei's heart. One was thick and bright. The other was thinner, but just as firmly connected. Qing Li leaned closer, his eyes following the strands. "They're competing." he said, raising one hand as if he wanted to touch them. "No," Shen Lian corrected quietly, keeping her fingers against Zhao Wei's temple. "They're stabilizing."
Yan Luo frowned and looked from one bundle to the other. "How is that different?" Shen Lian opened her eyes. "Because the anchor has stopped trying to erase one." Qing Li looked at the two bowls again. "So it has changed its mind?" he asked, rubbing his chin. Shen Lian withdrew her hand. "I don't think it has a mind in the way we understand one." Qing Li glanced at her. "That is somehow less reassuring." Outside, Xu Yang felt the shift immediately. The threads around Zhao Wei were no longer strangling each other.
They were separating, like two rivers forced to flow through the same valley. Yan Luo looked at the bowls again. "So both memories remain." Shen Lian nodded. "But not peacefully." As if answering her words, Zhao Wei's body jerked violently. His eyes snapped open. For a moment, he stared at the ceiling, breathing hard. Then he slowly turned his head towards the table. His gaze rested on the two bowls before moving towards the door. "She's gone," he said hoarsely.
Qing Li relaxed slightly and stepped closer to the bed. "Do you remember what happened?" he asked, watching Zhao Wei's expression. Zhao Wei nodded faintly. "I remember burying her." His eyes shifted towards the empty doorway. "But she's cooking." The relief disappeared from Qing Li's face. Zhao Wei suddenly pushed himself upright. His gaze drifted between two invisible worlds. "In one memory, I buried her," he whispered, clenching the blanket. "In the other... she's angry because I forgot to bring rice from the market." He looked at Yan Luo desperately. "Both are happening."
Yan Luo kept his voice steady. "Where is she now?" Zhao Wei pointed towards the empty doorway. "She's standing there." Everyone turned. The doorway was empty, but Zhao Wei's eyes were full of recognition. Xu Yang slipped through the half-open door. The moment he entered, the threads reacted. The strands around Zhao Wei trembled before shifting slightly away from one another. Yan Luo noticed immediately. "Again." he murmured, watching the change. Xu Yang stopped near the bed. Zhao Wei looked down at him. For the first time since waking, his breathing began to steady. "You!" Zhao Wei Zhao Wei whispered, lowering one hand towards the cat.
Xu Yang raised his head and met his gaze. "She's in the kitchen," Zhao Wei continued slowly, turning towards the back room. "And she's also buried in the hill cemetery." His voice did not break this time. He simply looked confused. "Why are both true?" The threads around Xu Yang remained calm. Neither fixed nor pulled. Just steady. Yan Luo watched carefully. "The anchor recognizes him as a constant." he said, glancing at Shen Lian. Qing Li frowned. "But he's not resolving the contradiction." Yan Luo shook his head. "No. He's preventing the collapse."
Shen Lian stepped towards the kitchen and pushed the curtain aside. Nothing was there.She returned to the room. Zhao Wei slowly pushed the blanket aside and stood up. Qing Li immediately moved forward, raising one hand to stop him. "Where are you going?" he asked, watching the farmer's unsteady legs. Zhao Wei looked towards the door. "I need to check the cemetery." He paused, then glanced towards the kitchen. "And then I need to go home."Yan Luo frowned. "You're already home." he pointed out, looking around the room. Zhao Wei gave him a faint smile. "In one life."
Qing Li lowered his hand and exchanged a glance with Yan Luo. "I don't think I can argue with that," he murmured. Zhao Wei walked out of the house. The villagers parted silently as he passed. Some watched him with fear, while others looked at him with pity. Xu Yang followed him. The threads in the air shifted again, not violently this time, but curiously. They seemed to be watching and learning...Shen Lian stopped beside the doorway and spoke softly. "The anchor is adapting." Qing Li turned sharply towards her. "Adapting how?" he asked, stepping away from the bed.
Shen Lian looked towards the distant shrine. "At first, it tried to choose one truth." Her voice lowered. "Now it's trying to hold both." Yan Luo's expression darkened. "That's impossible." Shen Lian looked back at him. "Yes," she replied quietly. "And yet it's happening." Zhao Wei reached the road leading to the cemetery. Half the villagers expected him to break down, scream, or collapse beneath the weight of two pasts. Instead, he walked calmly, as if both paths were simply parts of the same road. Xu Yang padded beside him silently. I don't know whether this is a good sign. The man is calmer, but the system has started doing something even I can't explain. That's usually when things get worse....
Far below the earth, the basin of memory light pulsed slowly. The threads dipped into it one by one, testing and learning. The anchor was no longer trying to repair reality. It was studying how contradictions could survive. Zhao Wei stopped at the base of the hill. He looked towards the cemetery gate, then turned his head towards the village behind him. Yan Luo stepped closer, watching him carefully. "What is it?" he asked, keeping a safe distance. Zhao Wei smiled faintly. "I think I understand now."
Yan Luo studied his face. "What do you understand?" Zhao Wei looked towards the cemetery. "In one life, I will mourn her." His gaze shifted back towards the village. "In the other... I will eat breakfast with her tomorrow." At that moment, the shrine bell rang. Not once, but twice. The sound rolled across the valley like two overlapping echoes. Every thread in the village trembled. Qing Li felt the change immediately. He looked towards the shrine, his expression tightening. "This isn't a collapse." he whispered. Yan Luo stared at the trembling threads. "It's multiplication." As the second echo of the bell faded into the morning sky, Xu Yang lifted his head. Something had changed. Until now, he had felt the influence of the anchor beneath the shrine and the distant pressure of Heaven's lattice. But this was different. Another presence was touching the threads. It was neither the anchor nor Heaven. It had entered the weave without disturbing the existing strands, as if it had been waiting for the right moment to reach them.
Xu Yang's ears tilted forward. Please tell me that's not another ancient thing waking up. One was already more than enough... He looked towards the distant mountains, but nothing appeared there. The threads continued to tremble, carrying a faint disturbance he could not trace. And far away, at the edge of the world's memory, someone smiled. Because the moment a single life could hold two pasts, the future would no longer belong to one timeline. It would belong to whoever learned how to guide them.