Yin Changli almost criticized each sentence in his heart as he read it. When he saw the words “young man,” he truly almost vomited.
His face felt burning hot, as if someone had slapped him dozens of times.
He averted his eyes, his features scrunched together, feeling an urge to stab his own eyes.
These sticky, sentimental, ridiculous, and childish words—fortunately, they were written in his posterior spirit realm, where only he could see them. Otherwise, he would never have the face to see anyone again in this lifetime.
If the Di Jun didn’t kill him, he would die of self-embarrassment first.
He even had the wicked thought that the clan upheaval he experienced might not have been a bad thing. If he had grown up with such a horrible character, it would have been too terrifying…
According to Xiao Bai, Xiang Haikui said he had previously suffered from something called “chuunibyou” syndrome.
Now he had some understanding of this illness.
Terrifying.
Moreover, Yin Changli hadn’t found the answer he wanted from these records.
Because from beginning to end, they still just displayed an imprinting mindset—praise without boundaries, a self-indulgent infatuation like a brainless fool.
So his current belief that he had developed true feelings must also be an illusion.
After all, that strand of Xiang Haikui’s hair had already merged into his body, causing him to develop these strange feelings…
Yin Changli took a deep breath to calm himself.
There was still a long passage ahead. He decided to finish reading before concluding.
…
I am about to awaken.
When I look at all the emotions I’ve recorded over these ten years and feel the urge to stab my own eyes, I know that my awakening is not far off.
I very much want to erase those childish, laughable records from before and pretend nothing ever happened.
Otherwise, after I wake up, I’ll want to vomit and feel too embarrassed to face anyone.
How could I think that a foolish brute was as radiant as the sun, and constantly describe her as “beautiful”?
I must have gone mad.
No matter what, I cannot find any reason to convince myself.
This might truly be an imprinting mindset.
Because at the brink of death, her strand of hair infused me with vitality, which is why I’ve always cherished this warmth.
Let me think clearly.
Think clearly.
My head hurts so much.
…
Alright, I’ve used my current mind to think through everything from the beginning, and I’ve figured it out. This is not an imprinting response.
Neither my amnesia nor that strand of hair sewn into my body was anything more than a catalyst that allowed me to focus solely on her, with no distractions.
It’s precisely because of sufficient observation that I could see her merits and things I couldn’t see before.
For instance.
After the Silver Sand crisis was resolved and Xiang Tianqing left with Jing Wenxiu, Xiang Heng invited me for a feast.
During the feast, when Xiang Heng asked about Little Kui’s life in her hometown, she began to speak about it.
I listened attentively, feeling pained by her frightening experiences at such a young age, when she suddenly changed the subject and started telling jokes, her thoughts jumping so erratically that one couldn’t follow.
That wasn’t it. She had noticed Xiang Heng looking twice at the empty seat beside him, which belonged to Xiang Tianqing, and becoming slightly distracted, so she changed the topic.
Is she foolish? She understands everything.
…
Yin Changli was slightly stunned.
Indeed, at that time, he had been hiding in that bottle of antidote and had come with Xiang Haikui.
From the first day she returned to Silver Sand, she noticed that calling Xiang Heng “Dad” seemed to confuse him, so she immediately changed to calling him “Father” like Xiang Tianqing did. When Xiang Heng didn’t notice at all, she must have understood.
Xiang Heng had already found his sense of belonging in this world. Among the foreign sojourners, only she remained.
This girl was indeed very perceptive.
…
At that time, her smile pierced my eyes.
I very much wanted to pull her aside, let her continue speaking, tell her that I was listening, that I cared, that I felt for her.
But I was afraid that pointing it out would embarrass her and make her even more unhappy, so I restrained myself.
Since then, I’ve never heard her mention her past again.
And I’ve been trying all along, hoping she would take the initiative to tell me about it before.
Unfortunately, I never succeeded.
Another example.
During those ten years of slaying demons and collecting demonic power along the border, no matter how harsh the environment, she could fall asleep as soon as she lay down.
But at the slightest disturbance, she would immediately wake up.
Was this vigilance? If one paid attention, one would see that in the moment she awoke, her eyes were filled with fear.
The more afraid she was, the louder she would speak. The stronger the opponent, the harder she would fight.
Was this recklessness? She simply understood that she had no retreat, no one to back her up, and had no choice but to cut a bloody path forward.
Gradually, what she brought me was no longer warmth like a “mother.”
On the contrary, many times I wanted to hold her, to give her some warmth.
But she always insisted that I was a “patient,” that I was having another episode, and she would use “Tian Kuang” to hit me, to knock me unconscious.
These were all sins of my own making.
…
Yin Changli read through dozens of “examples” in a row.
Even ordinary small matters about her in daily life were analyzed meticulously.
He gradually became absorbed because, as he read on, the mindset expressed became increasingly aligned with his current self, resonating more and more.
He read attentively, all the way to the end.
…
Another example.
When I asked her for a token of affection and wanted a strand of her hair, she gave me a kitchen knife instead.
Was she truly so unromantic?
She had consistently rejected me, so naturally, she wouldn’t give me any token. But having just seen some of my shameful memories, she couldn’t bear to disappoint or upset me, so she brought out that kitchen knife.
Just like suddenly telling jokes at the dinner table back then.
Come to think of it, the reason I chose her to change fate was because I couldn’t predict her path.
Her path is very simple. But to understand her, one can’t use only the eyes; one must use the heart, must be attentive.
Only by peeling away her layers would one discover that she isn’t naturally a sun-facing sunflower.
She’s rooted in the mud, striving with all her might to face the sun, to chase the sun.
This is what moved me about her the most.
Compared to me, who hides in darkness out of fear of pain, she is a hundred times better.
If all the suffering in my life comes from fate’s cruelty,
Then missing her would be entirely my fault.
If, after awakening, I cannot cherish her, it would be better to let her go. Get far away from her. I don’t deserve her.
…
The densely packed characters covering the wall ended with “I don’t deserve her.”
Yin Changli stared at those three words for a long time.
His thinking gradually shifted from “Should I accept this weakness?” to “Do I deserve to have this weakness?”
Xiang Haikui was an extraordinary good girl.
He was just a puddle of mud.
He thought for a long time.
Eh? This wasn’t right.
“Reverse psychology?” Yin Changli suddenly understood, pinching his brow. He found it somewhat amusing, like his left hand and right hand were playing against each other. “Attacking my own heart and brainwashing myself—how’s that supposed to work?”
But after reading all this, Yin Changli truly felt that if he missed her, it would be like missing some incredible treasure.
He started reading the records from ten years ago again. Somehow, this time they didn’t seem so nauseating.
As he read, he even smiled once. His peripheral vision fell on rows of sunflowers, those large-faced flowers seeming to grin and mock him.
He immediately hid his smile.
Truly disgusting—this time he was cursing himself.
Then Yin Changli closed his eyes. The characters flew down from the spirit wall in streams, encircling him and beginning to drill into his spiritual platform.