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墨書 Inktalez
Lingzi, Lingzi... I silently repeated her name in my heart, striving to recall the memories associated with her.
She was exceptionally beautiful, exuding an elegance cultivated by artistic upbringing in every gesture, like a princess high above the rest.
Her family background was equally privileged; her mother was a renowned pianist, and her father held a high-ranking position in the provincial cultural department.
Yet, my memories of her were not solely filled with graceful and beautiful images.
"Who do you think you are to like me? Hmph, Penny Pincher!"
Those words struck me like a sharp blade, piercing deep into my heart. I had long refused to believe that the "princess" I had secretly adored for so long could utter such venomous words...
A Zhao was right; she was not worth my love. Both A Zhao and I grew up in the slums, which is why only he could understand the depth of the hurt those words "Penny Pincher" inflicted on a poor person's pride.
Perhaps it was precisely because of our shared environment that A Zhao and I became the best of friends.
However, A Zhao was stronger and smarter than I was. With his cheerful smile and optimistic attitude, he melted the indifference of those around him and repelled societal prejudice with his outstanding qualities.
In contrast, I felt so weak, helpless, and pitiful, sliding step by step toward the abyss of darkness.
... That person still hadn't come.
A week had passed, and there was still no sign of her. Even if there were news, I probably wouldn't know; my home had no television or radio. Even if we did have one, given my current state, I would surely hear nothing at all.
At first, there were occasional visits from the police to our class. Students who were close to that person were taken one by one to the office for questioning. However, when they returned, they said nothing about the interrogation process or what had happened, likely due to a gag order from both the class teacher and the police.
That person seemed to have become a taboo in our class; everyone avoided the topic entirely.
For some reason, I felt a sense of dread about the police questioning. Perhaps it was because those buried memories were too painful, and once unearthed, they would torment me for quite some time. Fortunately, no one knew about A Zhao and my pursuit of her back then, so we were spared from this round of questioning and felt like outsiders.
“Xiao Liang, I’ve got an idea! We can check out some psychology books at the library. Maybe we can find an explanation for the strange things happening to you,” A Zhao said suddenly with a serious expression after school.
I had a premonition that the truth would surface in the library, but I was also filled with panic at the thought of the shock that would come with it. Yet, I longed for clarity; I was tired of being engulfed by inexplicable fear and anxiety every day.
In the library, I looked at the towering bookshelves filled to the brim with books, leaving no gaps. I was momentarily stunned, completely unsure of where to start.
A Zhao seemed right at home; he picked up the thickest book and began flipping through the table of contents carefully. He didn’t forget to call out to me, “Hey, Xiao Liang, why are you just standing there? Help me look for something.” Saying that, he casually grabbed another book from the shelf and shoved it into my hands while I was still in a daze.
I flipped through it absentmindedly, but my heart suddenly raced and my breathing quickened.
“Thud—” The book slipped from my hands and fell to the floor.
An overwhelming fear gripped me, causing my whole body to tremble uncontrollably. My adrenaline surged wildly, rendering my limbs unresponsive.
“Xiao Liang, what’s wrong?” A Zhao glanced at me in confusion as he bent down to pick up the fallen book. The moment he tucked the bookmark into its pages, his expression froze as well.
“This… isn’t this your symptom?” A Zhao read aloud from the book while glancing back at me, slowly pronouncing the name of the symptom—“Selective Amnesia.”
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