For Clarice, walking side by side with Mr. Qi made her heart feel warm despite the cold morning air.
As they drew closer to their destination, Clarice spoke up, feigning a casual tone.
"Mr. Qi, let me help you later."
"I can't allow that. How could I let a visiting friend do manual labor?"
"Then Mr. Qi—tell me, is it normal for friends to help each other?"
"...It is."
"Exactly. I'll help clean your teacher's home, and in return, you have to do me a small favor, okay?"
Clarice's lips curled up, her eyes curving into crescents.
She had anticipated Mr. Qi's refusal, which was why she said it that way on purpose.
"What small favor?"
"I recently signed up for a fashion design class, and I'm short on body measurements for male models of different heights..."
At this point, Clarice sized up Qi Zhimu from head to toe.
"...Mr. Qi, you look to be at least 180 cm tall. You're tall and well-proportioned, perfectly fitting one of the criteria."
One didn't need such data to knit a scarf, but a sweater was a different story.
She had started learning hand-knitting recently and was still in the phase of gaining experience and proficiency, so it hadn't been a concern yet.
But she was progressing quickly. Now she could measure Mr. Qi's measurements and work toward the final product.
"Just providing some measurements isn't much of a favor," Qi Zhimu said.
Guessed right again, yay!
The girl felt a surge of joy.
She felt like she had mastered a small part of the 'Mr. Qi User Manual.'
Next, she could naturally push for the follow-up.
"Then, Mr. Qi, please sacrifice a bit more and be my model...!" Clarice looked intently at Qi Zhimu's profile, her eyes full of expectation.
"..."
Qi Zhimu thought about his situation for a moment, considered it, and then readily agreed.
"Alright. However, I can't be your model for long."
"That's fine, this winter is enough. Are you planning to do something important?"
"...Yes, I'll be traveling far away for a while soon."
"May I ask how long you'll be gone?"
"Hard to say."
"Oh, then I won't ask."
Though she wanted to know, Clarice understood that prying wasn't good; Mr. Qi clearly didn't want to elaborate.
They reached their destination amidst their small talk.
Qi Zhimu deactivated the Energy Lock. "It's ready. Let's go in."
The cleaning wasn't complicated—just sweeping and mopping the floors, wiping down furniture and decorations, and so on.
Once they were finished, Clarice took the opportunity while resting to measure Qi Zhimu's shoulder width, chest, waist, and neck circumference.
She seemed to be in a bit of a hurry and left quickly after saying goodbye... Three days later, in the evening.
Qi Zhimu sat leaning against the windowsill as was his habit, holding a type of chinese lute in his arms, his fingers rhythmically plucking the silk strings.
As the sky darkened and the lights remained off, his figure gradually faded into the shadows.
Qi Zhimu's gaze wasn't focused on anything in particular. The melody slowed down by a few beats at some point, each note dragging with a heavy weight that sounded exceptionally clear in the night.
Clearly, his mind was elsewhere, wandering to parts unknown.
"Meow~~"
The plump Orange Cat leaped from the floor, landing precisely on Qi Zhimu's lap.
It nudged its body, tucked its paws under itself, and curled up into a fluffy land-sea cucumber.
The weight pressed down firmly. Looking from above, the outline of Qi Zhimu's lap had mysteriously vanished.
As if feeling it wasn't warm enough, Little Orange shifted closer to Qi Zhimu's warm abdomen before finally closing its eyes contentedly, letting out a soft, engine-like purr.
A few minutes passed, and the slow melody gradually returned to its proper tempo.
"A thousand cups of Burning Passion Wine down the throat... What does the departing one seek? Whose heart is broken into pieces."
Qi Zhimu lowered his eyes, his deep voice blending into the thickening night as he unconsciously sang a song that seemed to be written for no one in particular.
When Clarice arrived with Ms. Durand, she couldn't help but stop in her tracks upon hearing the singing.
The Bamboo House was pitch black. By unspoken agreement, neither of them spoke to interrupt.
From that melody, Clarice seemed to hear the disappointment of unrequited love.
"..."
She remained silent, subconsciously wiping the corner of her eye, only to realize that her eyes had become moist at some point.
It wasn't that she hadn't heard Mr. Qi play this piece before, but this was the first time she had heard him sing it.
When the final overtone vibrated in the air, the sorrowful melody finally fell silent.
"...Dr. Qi, we're here," Clarice said, having composed herself.
The Bamboo House was silent for a moment, followed by the soft sound of objects being set down, and then the lights flickered on.
"Please, come in."
"Meow~"
The voices of the man and the cat came out one after the other.
Qi Zhimu's tone returned to its usual gentle and calm state. To fulfill the promise he had made to the girl, he had been preparing for this day for a long time.
The success rate for treating amnesia was infinitely close to 100%.
As Ms. Durand lay down in the Medical Pod, Qi Zhimu attached various electrodes to specific locations on her head.
"Ms. Durand, the surgery can begin at any time. Are you ready?"
"Thank you for your trouble, Dr. Qi. I'm ready."
"Drink this." Qi Zhimu handed over a vial of medicine.
Ms. Durand drank it without hesitation and let out a soft sigh of relief.
"See you tomorrow, ma'am." As he spoke, Qi Zhimu initiated the pre-written program.
Ms. Durand's vision quickly blurred, and her consciousness sank into peace and darkness.
"There won't be any accidents, I promise you," Qi Zhimu comforted her in a soft tone, seeing the trace of worry on Clarice's face.
"I trust Mr. Qi."
For the next while, Qi Zhimu entered a state of intense focus and busyness.
The surgery indeed wouldn't fail, but that was predicated on the first half of the treatment being error-free.
He needed to integrate the memory archives Ms. Durand had left from her previous treatments, digitizing and backing them up.
After that came the treatment method he had used when he personally acted as a clinical trial subject.
He had written an automated program back then, and not a single experiment had ever gone wrong.
However, everyone's memories were different. Despite having a backup of Ms. Durand's memories, he still felt that manual operation was safer.
Most of the time, Clarice's gaze remained fixed on Qi Zhimu.
She couldn't understand even half of the code made of numbers and letters on the screen.
She could only watch Qi Zhimu's long, slender fingers moving across the hundreds of different buttons on the control console.
During previous treatments, Mr. Qi hadn't been nearly as busy as he was now.
At this moment, the focused Mr. Qi performing the surgery exuded the intellectual aura of a scholar.
Clarice just watched him, her gaze growing increasingly tender.
After some time, Qi Zhimu lightly tapped a key, and a green progress bar appeared in the center of the screen, starting to climb from 1%.
"There we go. The only risky part of the treatment has been safely completed. Now, we just need to wait nine hours."
Only then did Clarice look at the time, discovering that three hours had actually passed.
"Thank you, Mr. Qi..."
Having finally reached this day, Clarice couldn't help but feel a complex mix of emotions.
"The night is long. Go get some sleep," Qi Zhimu said softly.
"I can't sleep."
Clarice looked at her mother's face with a serious expression.
"My mother is at a critical moment for her future; as her daughter, of course I have to stay by her side."
"True."
"My mother once told me: Life is a winding labyrinth; we have nothing but our memories... How do you understand that sentence, Mr. Qi?"
"..." Qi Zhimu remained silent.