Song Li recovered quickly, able to sit up after just two or three days. His spirit was fairly good, though he had lost some weight, and his face bore the pallor of someone who had been seriously ill, but his eyes were bright, often drifting into space lost in thought without realizing it. Cheng Yu came to visit every day recently. He didn’t talk much when he came, usually just pulling up a chair to sit by the bed, watching Song Li in a daze, and getting lost in thought himself. They would spend the entire afternoon like this. One day, Song Li couldn’t help but ask, “Were you kicked out by your father, or is Guangyin on the verge of bankruptcy? How come you have time to come here every day?”
“It looks like you’re recovering well,” Cheng Yu replied with a nonchalant smile. “I actually come every day to enlighten you, but you never ask. I was wondering, aren’t you curious, or have you figured things out on your own? Or perhaps, you never lost your memory in the first place?”
Song Li met Cheng Yu’s gaze without flinching and lightly said, “I haven’t lost my memory.”
Cheng Yu’s heart skipped a beat; indeed, “selective amnesia,” how convenient. But then Song Li continued calmly, “I remember all these things, all of you. How could I have lost my memory?”
“What about Tang Xiaofu?” Cheng Yu asked directly. Song Li furrowed his brows, “Tang Xiaofu? Who’s that? The girl who was with us when I woke up?”
Cheng Yu’s eyes widened slightly, finding it hard to believe Song Li would say, “Who is Tang Xiaofu?” Song Li paused, “Should I know her? What is she to me? What happened between us? Why… why hasn’t she come to see me?” Cheng Yu was taken aback, rolled his eyes, and said, “You entangled with her for so long, and now you’ve forgotten her entirely. If it were me, I wouldn’t come either.”
Then Cheng Yu seemed to recall something and leaned forward, “By the way, I’ve always wanted to ask, how did you suddenly wake up when you were in a coma, and even the doctors couldn’t predict when you’d wake?”
