Amnesia Trap (GL) - Chapter 33

Sheng Zhi sat on the stairs, listening to Ji Qingfan recount the events that had transpired between them in that reminiscent tone.

She hadn’t truly lost her memory, so after listening for a while, she quickly realized that Ji Qingfan was only speaking truthfully about the beginning of their past—and only the good parts at that.

The further the story progressed, the less truthful the content became. When speaking about the part where their relationship fractured, the narrative was essentially a beautified, fabricated version completely unrelated to reality. As for the most turbulent period, not a single word was mentioned.

However, this realization gradually relaxed Sheng Zhi.

—Listening to Ji Qingfan lie now actually made her much clearer-headed. The most frightening thing was ambiguity, the inability to distinguish between truth and falsehood.

If she started confusing truth and falsehood, then other aspects of the “game” might also start to get muddled.

Ji Qingfan told many stories. She controlled the degree of memory beautification well; she didn’t completely cover up their conflicts but cleverly reframed them. She talked about her own moments of attraction and her pursuit of Sheng Zhi, how they were outwardly at loggerheads in the eyes of others, but secretly kissed amidst the summer breeze in empty classrooms, and their decisions and promises after graduation.

It sounded real and beautiful, not excessively fake.

And it perfectly merged with the previous narrative Ji Qingfan had given her.

If the previous narrative was a half-drawn arc of a circle, the memories Ji Qingfan recounted today completely and thoroughly completed that half-circle.

It was seamlessly rounded off.

Sheng Zhi barely spoke.

To prevent giving anything away, she simply used interjections throughout, or breathed a questioning sound through her nose. Most of the time, Ji Qingfan was the one talking to her.

“Zhi Zhi, you don’t know how gray my youth was back then. It’s a good thing you appeared.” Ji Qingfan’s voice carried a slight smile.

The sentence was finished, but the underlying meaning seemed incomplete, awaiting the listener’s careful consideration.

Sheng Zhi had been somewhat distracted thinking about the past, but the moment she heard Ji Qingfan say that, her wandering thoughts immediately snapped back.

—”It’s a good thing you appeared in my gray youth.”

It didn’t take much thought to figure out the meaning behind a statement like that.

In that instant, countless cringeworthy tropes flashed through Sheng Zhi’s mind, including but not limited to, “I’d die for you,” “you are my only light,” and so on.

Various phrases raced through her mind. She paused and said tactfully, “You’re not going to say I’m the only light in your life next, are you? Don’t. It’s a bit much.”

Ji Qingfan’s tone paused, and the subtle, ambiguous atmosphere instantly dissipated. She couldn’t help but chuckle.

Ji Qingfan blinked. “Actually, I’m a CEO now, you know. So, according to Zhi Zhi’s idea, shouldn’t I be giving a cold smile, then grabbing your wrist, handcuffing you, and saying with an incredibly gloomy and pathological expression…”

As she said this, her expression changed. She genuinely raised her hand and gripped Sheng Zhi’s wrist, looking like she was about to lock her up, “Zhi Zhi, even if you’ve lost your memory, you can’t leave my side.”

The words were a threat, but the end of the sentence trailed off into a lingering tenderness: “We’ll be together forever, and never part.”

Thanks to her striking appearance, even this performance only conveyed an unfamiliar, dangerous kind of beauty.

Ji Qingfan was quite serious in her performance, gripping Sheng Zhi’s wrist. Sheng Zhi tried to pull away but couldn’t free her hand.

Sheng Zhi: “…”

She covered her eyes with her other hand. She genuinely couldn’t believe Ji Qingfan had read this kind of thing. More importantly, she seemed to know more about it than Sheng Zhi did, to the point of being able to act it out.

She found it hard to imagine what Ji Qingfan looked like when reading those things, just as she couldn’t imagine Ji Qingfan watching certain indescribable short videos.

Sheng Zhi removed her hand from her eyes. “You act pretty well.”

She really did exude a sense of possessive, pathological desire to be with her forever. For a moment, when Sheng Zhi heard Ji Qingfan speak like that, she felt a subtle chill.

Although it didn’t sound too different from a declaration of love at first listen, the feeling it gave was quite the opposite.

She couldn’t quite pinpoint what was wrong, but it felt strange—a subtle sense of danger, despite knowing it was an act.

It was as if Ji Qingfan meant it.

…Forget it. Ji Qingfan was such a skilled liar that she could spout untruths effortlessly. It wasn’t surprising that she was a convincing actress.

Sheng Zhi dismissed the subtle feeling in her heart.

Ji Qingfan smiled gently, released her wrist, and acknowledged, “I think I acted pretty well too.”

With her wrist released, Sheng Zhi checked her watch and realized that their conversation had dragged on until quitting time. Everyone should be clocking out and leaving.

Sheng Zhi’s first reaction upon seeing the time was that she couldn’t work overtime.

She cautiously shifted her gaze to Ji Qingfan: “Let’s be clear. I went downstairs, but I came back up. You’re the one who dragged me into this absence from work, so no overtime.”

Hearing her words, Ji Qingfan laughed again.

“No overtime. And tomorrow is the weekend anyway. The company has a two-day break,” she said, standing up, “Zhi Zhi, do you want to come home and have dinner together? I’ll cook.”

Seeing Ji Qingfan stand up, Sheng Zhi followed suit.

The stairs here weren’t heavily used, but the area was kept extremely clean, being tidied up twice a day or more.

She met the woman’s watery gaze.

…Ji Qingfan was going to cook dinner herself?

Sheng Zhi thought of the insulated food container Ji Qingfan had brought when she was hospitalized, but truthfully, she had never seen Ji Qingfan cook with her own eyes…

Thinking this, Sheng Zhi pondered for a moment and agreed.

But she didn’t know that a statement like this was just an excuse to bring someone home, similar to “My cat can do a 365-degree corkscrew kick and a backflip; do you want to come see?”

Sheng Zhi, hearing she could watch Ji Qingfan cook, completely missed the underlying intention.

Just like when she was hospitalized, she hadn’t quite believed the soup Ji Qingfan brought was homemade. Ji Qingfan cooking for her seemed too improbable.

So, watching her cook in person was a perfect opportunity to challenge her.

She felt she needed to reaffirm her original intention when agreeing to the bet: to be difficult, to order her around, and to challenge Ji Qingfan in various ways to make her regret proposing the wager.

To never forget the original intention is to achieve the goal.

This was her main objective in this “game.” Everything else was secondary.

They didn’t call a driver today; Ji Qingfan was driving.

Returning to the place they supposedly shared, Sheng Zhi still found the signs of cohabitation absurd.

Speaking of food, Sheng Zhi was incredibly picky. She could list a huge number of foods she disliked, but the foods she truly loved might not even reach the number of things she disliked.

When Ji Qingfan took out the various ingredients, Sheng Zhi glanced over. The refrigerator was fully stocked, giving off a very domestic vibe.

She couldn’t help but wonder: if she lived alone, her refrigerator would probably only hold alcohol, sparkling water, juice, milk, and ice cream. She likely wouldn’t find a single vegetable leaf.

While she was thinking, she heard Ji Qingfan say, “Milk coffee is on the left, sparkling fruit juice is on the right, and the bottom drawer has strawberry and coconut ice cream. But I suggest you have the ice cream a little while after dinner.”

Sheng Zhi touched her hair and nodded, feeling Ji Qingfan was practically reading her mind.

After responding, she started watching Ji Qingfan wash and chop vegetables.

Sheng Zhi had always been clearly aware of her “princess syndrome.” She had been called out for it since childhood, and for a while, people practically called her “Princess”—clearly the derogatory term for a spoiled girl with a severe case of princess syndrome.

But so what? She had no intention of changing.

Sheng Zhi watched Ji Qingfan’s movements, which were fluid and skilled, and couldn’t resist asking, “What are you making? I’m very picky.”

“I know,” Ji Qingfan’s eyes curved in a smile, “There won’t be any food Zhi Zhi doesn’t like.”

Sheng Zhi didn’t quite believe her.

After speaking, Ji Qingfan paused, suddenly realized something, and let out a soft “Ah.” Her gaze shifted back to Sheng Zhi, “Zhi Zhi, I forgot to tie up my hair. Would you help me tie it up, please?”

“You want me to tie it, and I should just tie it?” Sheng Zhi frowned, but her gaze unconsciously scanned the surroundings, “Where’s the hair tie?”

She didn’t want to help her, but she was doing it for the sake of the meal Ji Qingfan was making.

Ji Qingfan gestured slightly to the side, “It’s right there.”

Sheng Zhi followed the direction, walked over, and retrieved a small hair tie.

Ji Qingfan’s hair quality was excellent. Her long hair flowed down, the subtle waves alluring.

Sheng Zhi hadn’t tied anyone else’s hair much.

The only two or three times were for Ji Qingfan in high school, back when their relationship hadn’t deteriorated to what it later became.

Her loose long hair would sometimes block her eyes while doing homework. But back then, Sheng Zhi was always the one who volunteered to tie it up for her. High school Ji Qingfan was different from now; she blushed very easily.

Thinking about those past events again, Sheng Zhi chased the thoughts away, believing it was probably because Ji Qingfan kept talking about the past today.

After all, she hadn’t frequently thought about those things before, and had even deliberately tried to let them fade. But now…

Ji Qingfan was constantly reinforcing those memories.

Sheng Zhi tied her hair up casually. She had already anticipated what Ji Qingfan would say next after she tied her hair.

Sure enough, Ji Qingfan curved her lips, “Zhi Zhi’s method of tying hair hasn’t changed at all.”

If Sheng Zhi had truly lost her memory, she would simply think Ji Qingfan was referring to the time before and after the amnesia. But Sheng Zhi hadn’t truly forgotten.

Sheng Zhi ignored that remark. Ji Qingfan didn’t seem to mind. She smiled and continued to prepare the ingredients in her hands.

Ji Qingfan had brought up the past too frequently today, and Sheng Zhi’s mood was somewhat affected by the memories. She didn’t really feel like talking to Ji Qingfan now.

But not wanting to talk to her was real, and being unable to keep her eyes off her was also real.

Ji Qingfan, handling ingredients in the kitchen like this, seemed to be a completely different person.

The kitchen was lit with warm light.

The soft light fell upon Ji Qingfan.

She wore a pale cherry-colored apron over a white, long-sleeved house dress. Her sleeves were rolled up, and her loosely tied hair hung down one side of her shoulder.

Sheng Zhi had tied her hair casually, but it didn’t look messy on Ji Qingfan; instead, it had a languid beauty, carrying a touch of domestic warmth, like a celestial being who had entered the mortal world.

Ji Qingfan never asked Sheng Zhi to help her, doing everything herself except for asking Sheng Zhi to tie her hair.

But when Ji Qingfan did everything on her own, Sheng Zhi felt a strange, inexplicable discomfort watching her busy herself.

She looked at Ji Qingfan, made sure Ji Qingfan wasn’t looking at her, and then looked around.

There was a peeled potato nearby, which looked like it was waiting to be sliced.

Sheng Zhi quietly approached the potato. Seeing that Ji Qingfan still wasn’t looking, she washed her hands, intending to slice the potato.

She was here to challenge Ji Qingfan. She was only pitching in now because standing there and watching was too boring. She wasn’t trying to help cook—

As she told herself this internally, Sheng Zhi began trying to slice the potato.

She thought about the posture for cutting vegetables: one hand holding the food, the other doing the slicing. But she tried it and found it difficult to cut. After pausing for a second or two, Sheng Zhi set the potato down, removed her left hand, and used only her right hand to slice down with the knife.

The first cut split the potato in half.

The second cut turned the potato into four uneven pieces.

The third cut…

“Zhi Zhi, what are you doing?”

Before the third cut could land, Sheng Zhi heard Ji Qingfan’s gentle questioning voice right beside her ear.