Bengtie: My death fueled their madness.

Qi Zhimu returned to the bamboo house, opened the encrypted safe, took out the special medicine, and swallowed one pill.

Soon, his appearance returned to that of a young man.

This will make me feel much better, just like a young person, although only temporarily...

Meow~

A soft, cotton-like chirping sound came from beneath my feet, its trailing tone gently drawing my attention.

A soft, furry touch came from his ankle. Qi Zhimu looked down and saw an orange cat sitting at his feet, looking up at him.

There seemed to be a hint of worry in those eyes that usually looked so languid.

"I'm fine."

After putting the medicine back in the safe, Qi Zhimu bent down, picked up the cat, and rubbed its head.

"It's time to lose weight, Little Orange."

Meow~~

Little Orange responded softly, as if to say, "Next time for sure."

"In another hundred days, I won't be able to take care of you like I do now. Being too fat is bad for your health, you know?"

Little Orange seemed to understand, yet not quite, and nuzzled her head affectionately against Qi Zhimu's palm.

The furry paws rested on his wrist, giving the impression of expressing reluctance to part.

Qi Zhimu smiled, picked up Xiaoju, and sat down on the windowsill.

He picked up the zhongruan hanging to the side and gently plucked the silk strings with his slender fingers.

The gentle tone flowed slowly, merging into the autumn breeze.

Outside the window, the green bamboos are lush and verdant, with a few pale yellow withered leaves occasionally drifting down.

The plum grove on the mountainside has quietly begun to accumulate a delicate fragrance in preparation for its blooming in the cold winter.

Little Orange lay on Qi Zhimu's legs, the breeze that swept past the window was slightly cool, and it unconsciously curled up into a ball.

As the melodious tune played, Xiao Ju's breathing gradually became regular.

Late bamboo leaves sparsely shed their green shadows, and the cold autumn window strings convey a lonely sound.

The wind rustled through the bamboo tips, scattering the last lingering notes of the strings and stirring Qi Zhimu's thoughts.

Ruan Mei really likes the ruan, a traditional Chinese stringed instrument.

She never deliberately taught Qi Zhimu, but the latter became self-taught through constant exposure.

Seeing this, Ruan Mei gave him a zhongruan (a type of Chinese plucked string instrument).

She also enjoys fragrant and delicious pastries, especially those made with plum blossom-related ingredients.

He was never deliberately taught Qi Zhimu, but he still taught himself and spent several years making pastries that even his teachers couldn't find any fault with.

From then on, he was in charge of preparing the daily meals for the time before the apprenticeship ended.

The knowledge taught by teachers is mostly related to life lessons.

Looking back on all the warm memories, Qi Zhimu couldn't help but feel emotional.

His life was both unfortunate and fortunate.

At the age of six, he and several other refugees perished in a post-apocalyptic war and contracted a deadly virus.

The blurry face I saw before closing my eyes was Ruan Mei.

The blurry face I saw after opening my eyes was also Ruan Mei.

"Do you want to live?"

She asked the question in a hollow tone, devoid of any emotion.

"…think……"

His answer was simple, just a single word: the will to survive.

Thus, Qi Zhimu survived.

Ruan Mei made no promises, but after spending several years, she successfully analyzed the virus and cured him, who was the experimental subject.

At the age of eleven, he became Nguyen Mai's student.

I learn very quickly and a lot, and my days are fulfilling.

At the age of eighteen, the teacher was angry for the first and only time, severely punishing Qi Zhimu for making a mistake.

He couldn't remember the specific details clearly, only that it was related to breaking the rules.

Meow~

Little Orange suddenly jumped to the ground.

Qi Zhimu snapped out of his reverie, glanced at the sky, and a hint of surprise flashed in his eyes.

He carefully hung the zhongruan back in its original position and walked towards the door.

A young girl in a deep purple dress led a middle-aged woman with a veil on her head and a somewhat bewildered look towards the bamboo house.

"Mr. Qi!"

Upon catching sight of that tall figure, the girl waved from afar, her expression slightly complicated.

There was both anticipation and unease.

Qi Zhimu understood why the two had come here, and smiled and nodded as they approached.

"Come with me."

The young girl, familiar with the place, led her mother and Qi Zhimu into the bamboo house, stepping into a hidden passageway.

From the outside, no one would ever guess that a fully equipped medical room is hidden inside an ordinary bamboo house.

"Please lie down, Ms. Durand."

The middle-aged woman met those peaceful and kind eyes, her confusion undiminished, and she subconsciously looked at the girl beside her.

"Mother, Mr. Qi is the doctor who treated you. Don't worry, you'll remember soon."

"Okay, sure..." Durand did as he was told.

After a series of examinations, the diagnosis results differed slightly from those of the past.

After placing the treatment device on Durand's head, Qi Zhimu pressed a button to close the medical pod and begin treatment.

"This treatment will last 17 hours. Please wait outside."

"...Three extra hours all at once, this..." Clarice was a little uneasy, and worry flashed across her face.

"Don't worry, judging from your complexion, you probably haven't eaten yet. Eat something first." Qi Zhimu gently patted Clarice's light purple hair.

The girl's full name is Clarice Durand, and she is a resident of the neighboring planet.

After years of searching for a cure for his mother's amnesia, he finally found Mr. Qi, a hermit in the mountains of a neighboring planet far from the hustle and bustle, through various rumors.

Durand has been receiving treatment from Qi Zhimu for five years, and his condition has been deteriorating.

From initially coming once a year, it now comes less than once every two months.

The time required for treatment is also steadily increasing.

living room.

Clarice could hardly taste the pastries that she used to find incredibly delicious.

Her mind was mostly preoccupied with her mother's illness.

At this rate, sooner or later, Mother will completely forget everyone, including herself, and will be unable to remember anything anymore.

Seeing the girl's listless expression, Qi Zhimu sighed inwardly and poured her a cup of plum blossom wine.

Less than two years old.

Let alone an adult girl, even when I was a minor, I couldn't get drunk.

The slightly yellow, clear rice wine exudes a refreshing and delightful aroma.

After just one sniff, Clarice couldn't help but sip half a glass, a faint blush rising to her pretty face.

The delicate fragrance of plum blossoms lingers on the lips and teeth, gently soothing the sorrow in the young girl's heart.

"Thank you, Mr. Qi..."

"Cough cough cough—"

Before Clarice could finish thanking him, Qi Zhimu suddenly coughed violently, turned his back to her, covered his mouth, and endured the discomfort.

"Mr. Qi, are you alright?!" Clarice's face flashed with tension and concern.

Glancing at the crimson stain on his palm, Qi Zhimu shook his head imperceptibly, his tone unchanged.

"...It's nothing serious. Winter is approaching, so I probably caught a chill last night."