After She Fell for Me, I Lost My Memory (GL) - Chapter 54

I see.

Perhaps to the former me, that string of numbers held more meaning than a birthday.

I have a bad memory; in the past, whenever it involved a password, I usually used birthdays to solve it. I’m lucky that I set my most commonly used software to my own birthday; otherwise, I wouldn’t be able to do anything after coming home from the hospital.

Cen Luo opened the USB drive and found two named folders. One was labeled with the cold, two-character “Work,” and the other was the seemingly very warm “Spring.”

Spring?

Cen Luo instinctively wanted to open the “Spring” folder, but found it was protected by another layer of encryption.

Cen Luo: “…”

Who was I trying to keep out?

Keeping out myself?

Cen Luo was speechless.

Jiang Ting’s messages hadn’t stopped; she was anxious but didn’t dare to nag, so she just sent cute “selling-mizu” emojis over and over again. Seeing this, Cen Luo suppressed her curiosity, opened the “Work” folder first, found the interview files for Yan Xuan and Song Xiangsi, and sent them over to Jiang Ting.

She received another series of grateful emojis in return.

Cen Luo then fixed her gaze on the “Spring” folder again. Spring? Scenery photos? Are scenery photos worth locking up like this?

Cen Luo thought for a few seconds and then tried to unlock the folder. She entered several passwords, but none were correct—including the one Jian Mu had just given her. She didn’t manage to guess the password, but she did manage to make herself angry.

What kind of broken “Spring” is this.

She was annoyed, yet curious. Could it be that something others shouldn’t see is inside? For example…

At this thought, Cen Luo quickly shook her head. Finally, having no other choice, she pinned her hopes on Jian Mu again.

Currently, their chat interface was filled with Jian Mu’s messages. Cen Luo only replied to the first one.

—Did you get it open?

[Opened it.]

[Do I have any other passwords?]

After a while, Cen Luo received Jian Mu’s reply: [As far as I know, no.]

Cen Luo was a bit dejected not getting an answer and couldn’t help but reply: [Your knowledge is quite lacking.]

Jian Mu didn’t reply for a long time. It was because she remembered that Cen Luo’s passwords were basically either birthdays or the day they met.

[Maybe try 20150609.]

Before Cen Luo could ask what that was, she received another message from Jian Mu:

[The day we finished the Gaokao and graduated.]

Cen Luo: [No.]

Jian Mu: [What about 20170506?]

Cen Luo tried again. Still no.

Jian Mu: [The day of our first kiss.]

Cen Luo: [?]

Looking at the timeline, they weren’t even together in 2017, were they?

Jian Mu: [I was reading in the library that day, and you kissed me from the side.]

At the end, Jian Mu even sent a “wronged” emoji. As if to say, don’t blame me.

Cen Luo didn’t want to try anymore. Where did all these strange dates come from? And Jian Mu remembered them all? Or was she taking advantage of her amnesia to deliberately trick her?

Jian Mu: [If it’s none of the above, it must be 20190621.]

Cen Luo calculated—that was roughly when she graduated university. In other words, that should be the day they “crossed the line” after drinking. How could she have set that as a password? With her memory, it would be a miracle if she remembered it.

Before Jian Mu could send the next message, Cen Luo sent one just in time to interrupt her:

[Wrong password. Forget it, I don’t need your help anymore.]

In reality, Cen Luo didn’t even type the password in.

After sending that, Cen Luo simply tossed her phone and laptop to the other side of the sofa. Why should she be curious about some “Spring”?

Then Cen Luo continued tidying up the room. During this time, Jiang Ting messaged her to ask when she was coming back to work at the company. Cen Luo thought that because the company was busy, Jiang Ting was trying to tactfully persuade her to return early.

Before she could reply, she saw Jiang Ting send her the recent work schedule. The dense wall of text triggered Cen Luo’s cluster phobia.

[Leader, you’d better keep your phone off. I just heard Guan Hui telling the Director to ask you to come back to work early. She said such awful things—saying everyone is busy as the year-end approaches, and only you are slacking off. The Director agreed and said he’d call you in a bit.]

Guan Hui—the person Xiao Ran said was always going against her at the company. Word was, although Guan Hui often challenged her, she seemed to end up being the one getting angry every time.

Cen Luo: “…”

I’m not suited for work.

She was going to enjoy this short month of vacation to the fullest; she’d worry about the future later.

Exiting the chat interface, she saw that Jian Mu had sent a few more messages, asking if she could borrow some soy sauce. Cen Luo was a bit puzzled—hadn’t she just come back from exercising downstairs? Couldn’t she have picked up a bottle of soy sauce on the way?

From noon to evening, why was she still thinking about that bottle of soy sauce? But considering Jian Mu had technically helped her just now, Cen Luo agreed.

Just after she replied, the doorbell rang. It was as if Jian Mu had been guarding her door, waiting for the order to spring into action.

Helplessly, Cen Luo got up, grabbed a bottle of soy sauce from the kitchen, opened the door, and handed it to Jian Mu.

“Don’t worry about returning it.”

Jian Mu was just about to say she’d return it tomorrow when she heard Cen Luo’s words.

“Actually, I’ve noticed you have that kind of personality.” Cen Luo didn’t slam the door shut as usual; instead, she leaned against the doorframe, looking at Jian Mu and speaking coolly.

“Mhm?” Even though she guessed Cen Luo’s next words wouldn’t be pleasant, Jian Mu still asked with a smile, “What do you mean?”

At least she’s taking the initiative to talk to me—that’s a good thing.

“It’s the kind where, if you offer me something, I don’t want it; but if you don’t give it to me, I insist on having it. What I want, I must get, and if you refuse me, I want it even more. I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.”

Jian Mu was stunned.

“Anyway, it’s not a very healthy mindset,” Cen Luo didn’t want to say too much, but she still gave Jian Mu a reminder. “If the situation allows, maybe see a doctor?”

Cen Luo was just being honest; she didn’t mean to insult Jian Mu on purpose. She didn’t believe Jian Mu really lacked a bottle of soy sauce. It was probably because she was rejected that she wanted it even more.

Cen Luo thought her tone was relatively mild and that she was genuinely giving a reminder, but why did Jian Mu look so hurt? Thinking about it carefully, those words did sound a bit unfriendly, like calling someone “sick.”

“Did I never tell you this before?”

She had only spent a short time around Jian Mu and already noticed it; she didn’t believe she hadn’t noticed Jian Mu’s issues in all those previous years.

Jian Mu lowered her eyes, pursed her lips, and shook her head: “No.”

Prompted by Cen Luo’s reminder, Jian Mu couldn’t help but remember how Cen Luo used to always tell her to take it slow and not to worry. In a daze, she seemed to understand now.

Cen Luo might have known all along. And so, she had always been tolerant and understanding.

Seeing Jian Mu’s head down and her mood seemingly dejected, Cen Luo curled her lips slightly; she felt she might have said something she shouldn’t have.

“I was just reminding you, nothing more.” After saying this, Cen Luo closed the door. Regardless, she had said her piece; if Jian Mu was sad or upset, it was because she was overthinking.

Jian Mu looked at the closed door in front of her, then at the soy sauce in her hand.

“I just wanted to find a chance to talk to you. It’s not that I ‘insisted’.”

In the empty hallway, there was only Jian Mu’s soft murmur.

For the past two days, Chu Linbai had been analyzing actionable methods for her, but the results weren’t great. She pondered for a long while and finally realized it was a problem with the person executing them.

[I’ve thought of a way! It must succeed this time.]

When she received Chu Linbai’s message, Jian Mu was staring blankly at a Doraemon figurine. She propped her head up with her hand, her gaze level with the Doraemon on the coffee table, and muttered, “Your words are quite hurtful.”

After a moment, she let out a sigh: “But then again, I deserve it.”

Jian Mu sat in a daze for a long time before replying to Chu Linbai’s message.

[Thank you.]

The soy sauce plan was Chu Linbai’s idea—saying that if she couldn’t borrow it today, she could try again tomorrow; eventually, she’d succeed. Borrowing it would mean the other person’s attitude toward her had improved, and it provided a back-and-forth opportunity for contact.

Chu Linbai: [Hmm? Was the plan a success?]

Jian Mu: [Mhm, very successful.]

Before Chu Linbai could respond, she saw Jian Mu’s next message:

[So successful that she reminded me to go see a doctor.]

Chu Linbai: […]

Jian Mu didn’t intend to reply further, but Chu Linbai kept messaging. Finally, Jian Mu gave a brief summary of what happened.

[Is it not true? Is it not because you can’t have it that you want it?]

In fact, Chu Linbai didn’t know if it was true or not; Jian Mu told her very little. She asked this way because she wanted to understand her through her answers.

[No.]

It was because she didn’t make it in time. It wasn’t that she only wanted to love her after losing her. Before the accident, she was already seeing a doctor and learning how to love her—she shouldn’t have kept it from her.

It was too late.

[Actually, you don’t necessarily have to force your way into her world; you could entirely pull her into yours.]

[Or rather, link your worlds together.]

After a long while, Jian Mu received Chu Linbai’s message.