12:41 a.m.
The laughter in the mirror disappeared.
The living room fell silent again.
Jin Feixun stood in front of the mirror, her finger still resting on those three words.
Don’t trust me.
The writing was faint.
As if someone had written it on the glass with water.
She wiped at it with a tissue.
It didn’t come off.
Instead, it grew clearer and clearer.
Jin Feixun stared at the mirror.
Suddenly, she asked, “What if I don’t trust you?”
There was no answer.
She asked again, “Will you disappear?”
There was only her own reflection in the mirror.
A pale face.
Messy long hair.
Eyes filled with exhaustion.
But just as she was about to turn around—
the reflection in the mirror didn’t move.
Jin Feixun froze.
She had already stopped in reality.
The “her” in the mirror was still standing there.
Then.
The Jin Feixun in the mirror slowly raised a hand.
She wrote two characters on the glass.
B-17.
The next second.
The mirror returned to normal.
Jin Feixun took a step back.
Her heart pounded so hard it felt ready to break through her chest.
She finally understood.
B-17 wasn’t just a location.
It was reminding her.
The fifth experiment had already begun.
And this time.
The experimental subject might have changed.
1:27 a.m.
Jin Feixun reopened the hospital photograph.
The girl in the photograph was only seventeen.
She stood beside Yan Chuxian.
Neither of them was looking at the camera.
They were looking at someone standing outside the frame.
Jin Feixun enlarged the photograph.
At last, she saw the cropped-out corner.
A woman stood there.
White hair.
A long black dress.
Her face was hidden by a patch of shadow.
In her hand was an old-fashioned recorder.
Jin Feixun stared at it.
It suddenly looked familiar.
She opened her own drawer.
Inside was a very old recorder.
It had been left behind by her mother.
She hadn’t used it once since her mother disappeared.
She placed photographs of the two recorders side by side.
They were identical.
Completely identical.
The model, the worn spots, even the crack on the right side.
Everything was the same.
She picked up her mother’s recorder.
And pressed play.
There was no sound.
She replaced the batteries.
Still nothing.
Jin Feixun was about to give up.
Suddenly.
The recorder lit up on its own.
There was only one line of numbers on the screen:
00:17:17
She froze.
Seventeen seconds.
Seventeen years ago.
Seventeen.
She pressed play.
This time.
She heard her own voice.
Not her voice now.
The voice of her seventeen-year-old self.
She was crying hysterically.
“I don’t want to forget her.”
A man’s voice answered, “You can only live if you forget her.”
The girl sobbed and shook her head.
“No.”
“She’ll disappear.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you making me forget?”
The man fell silent.
Then he said, “Because she’s already died three times.”
Jin Feixun’s hand jerked violently.
The recording continued.
The girl’s voice grew farther and farther away.
“If I forget…”
“Will she stop dying?”
The man answered, “Yes.”
“Then I’m willing.”
The recording reached that point.
Suddenly, Yan Chuxian’s voice came through.
Very close.
So close, it was as if she had been standing behind seventeen-year-old Jin Feixun back then.
“Feixun.”
“Don’t.”
The girl asked through her tears, “Why?”
Yan Chuxian said softly, “Because if you forget me—”
“Then I really will never have existed.”
The recording stopped.
Jin Feixun stood in the middle of the room.
Tears slid silently down her face.
She finally knew.
Seventeen years ago.
It hadn’t been someone else who made her forget Yan Chuxian.
She had chosen to forget on her own.
Because only then.
Could Yan Chuxian survive.
But what she hadn’t known was—
Every time she forgot.
Yan Chuxian died once more.
Five in the morning.
Jin Feixun arrived at the South Bank Old District.
The sky still hadn’t fully brightened.
She brought her mother’s recorder.
And the key to B-17.
The ruins had already been sealed off.
But she didn’t go in.
She stood on the street corner.
Waiting for someone.
Seven minutes later.
A black sedan stopped in front of her.
The window slowly rolled down.
The woman with the silver watch from yesterday was sitting inside.
“Get in.”
Jin Feixun didn’t move.
“Who are you?”
“You can call me Shen Wen.”
“You know Yan Chuxian?”
Shen Wen looked at her.
“For longer than you have.”
“Where is she?”
“If I tell you, you’ll go looking for her.”
“Yes.”
“So I won’t tell you.”
Jin Feixun gave a cold laugh.
“Then why are you here?”
Shen Wen took a file folder from the car.
And tossed it to her.
“You’ll know after you read it.”
Jin Feixun opened it.
The first page.
Experimental project: The Vanished Name.
Her expression changed abruptly.
Beneath it were the words:
Project objective:
Delete a person’s social existence from the records.
Delete their photographs, voice, name, identity, and other people’s memories.
Ultimately, turn the target into “a person who never existed.”
The more Jin Feixun read, the colder she felt.
The second page.
Experimental subject.
Yan Chuxian.
Status:
Failed.
The third page.
Experimental subject.
Jin Feixun.
Status:
Failed.
She looked up.
“Why is my name here too?”
Shen Wen didn’t answer.
Jin Feixun flipped to the end.
There was only one line.
“The true goal of the Vanished Name Project isn’t to make one person disappear.”
“It’s to make another person take her place.”
Her breath caught.
“What does that mean?”
Shen Wen looked at her.
“Have you ever wondered…”
“Why, after everyone forgot Yan Chuxian, you were the only one who still remembered her?”
Jin Feixun didn’t answer.
Shen Wen continued:
“Because you weren’t an experimental failure.”
“You were the only person successfully left behind.”
“What does that mean?”
“They didn’t make you forget Yan Chuxian.”
“They only took Yan Chuxian—”
Shen Wen paused.
“And left her in your memory.”
Jin Feixun stared at her.
“So…”
“So, in a sense…”
Shen Wen looked at her.
“Yan Chuxian no longer exists in this world.”
“The only place she exists now—”
“Is in your memory.”
Jin Feixun tightened her grip on the folder.
“Then why does she still appear?”
Shen Wen didn’t answer.
She only glanced at the recorder in Jin Feixun’s hand.
“Because memory has begun to affect reality in reverse.”
Eight in the morning.
Jin Feixun returned home.
She pulled all the curtains shut.
There was no sunlight in the room.
She opened her computer.
And created a new folder.
File name:
《Yan Chuxian》
Then she began to write.
She wrote down their first meeting.
South Bank Cinema.
Rain.
5:41.
A white shirt.
Headphones.
She liked the sea.
She was afraid of being forgotten.
She always said:
“Sound never lies.”
Jin Feixun stopped there.
She suddenly remembered something Yan Chuxian had once said—something she had never understood.
“Sound never lies, but the people who hear it do.”
She had asked at the time, “What does that mean?”
Yan Chuxian had only smiled.
“You’ll understand someday.”
Now.
She finally understood.
Sound could be forged.
Memory could be altered.
Photographs could be tampered with.
Even names could disappear.
But—
What about feelings?
If one person no longer remembered another person’s face.
No longer remembered her name.
No longer remembered what she had said.
But still felt a stab of pain at some moment.
Did that feeling.
In the end, count as existence?
Jin Feixun picked up her pen.
At the end of the file, she wrote one sentence:
“I don’t need to prove that she existed.”
“Because I loved her.”
After writing that sentence.
She herself froze.
She stared at the screen.
For a long time.
Only then did she slowly lower her head.
The thing she had always refused to admit.
Had happened long ago.
She had fallen in love with Yan Chuxian.
Not for the fourth time.
Not for the fifth.
Perhaps it had happened as early as seventeen years ago.
11:59 p.m.
Jin Feixun was organizing the files.
Her computer suddenly began playing a video.
There was no file name.
The image was dark.
It looked like an underground room.
The camera was fixed in the corner.
At the center of the frame.
Yan Chuxian sat there.
She wore a white shirt.
Both hands were secured to the chair.
She wasn’t struggling.
She was only looking at the camera.
“If you’re seeing this…”
she said softly,
“then that means I’ve failed.”
Someone off camera asked, “Do you regret it?”
Yan Chuxian was silent.
Then she gave a small smile.
“I regret it.”
“What do you regret?”
“Not leaving sooner the first time I met her.”
“Why?”
Yan Chuxian raised her eyes.
Her gaze was so gentle it was heartbreaking.
“Because if I had left sooner…”
“she never would have fallen in love with me.”
The image suddenly filled with static.
Jin Feixun stood up.
“Wait!”
But the video continued.
Yan Chuxian looked at the camera.
As if she were looking at Jin Feixun.
“Feixun.”
“If this is the fifth time…”
“please don’t come looking for me.”
“If this is the sixth time…”
She paused.
Her eyes reddened.
“Then forget me.”
Jin Feixun froze.
“Why?”
Yan Chuxian lowered her head.
For a long time.
Only then did she say:
“Because after the fifth time—”
“the one who dies won’t be me anymore.”
The screen went black.
The computer returned to the desktop.
Jin Feixun stood there.
Her whole body seemed frozen.
The next second.
Her phone rang.
An unknown number.
She answered.
No one spoke.
There was only the sound of breathing.
Very soft.
Very close.
Then Yan Chuxian said, “Feixun.”
Jin Feixun’s tears fell instantly.
“Where are you?”
There was silence on the other end.
“Tell me.”
Still no answer.
She bit her lip.
“Are you still alive?”
After a long time.
Yan Chuxian finally said softly, “I don’t know.”
“What do you mean?”
“Right now…”
Her voice began to tremble.
“Sometimes I feel like I’m alive.”
“Sometimes I feel like…”
“I’m just someone in your memory.”
Jin Feixun closed her eyes.
“Then I’ll come find you.”
“No.”
“I’m definitely coming.”
“Feixun—”
“This time, I’ll be the one looking for you.”
The other end of the call suddenly went quiet.
Then Yan Chuxian began to cry.
She didn’t say anything.
She only cried softly.
It was the first time Jin Feixun had ever heard her cry.
The next second.
A sentence came through the phone.
“Then remember this.”
“Remember what?”
“If you find me…”
“do not call my name. No matter what.”
Jin Feixun frowned.
“Why?”
Yan Chuxian answered softly:
“Because they said…”
“As soon as you say my name again…”
“the Vanished Name Project will officially begin.”
The call disconnected.
Jin Feixun stared at her dead phone.
A few seconds later.
The screen lit up again.
A text message appeared automatically.
There was no number.
Only one sentence:
“Sixth Countdown Begins.”
Beneath it.
There was a photograph.
In the photograph.
Jin Feixun stood at South Bank Cinema.
And beside her—
stood Yan Chuxian.
The two of them were holding hands.
The photograph was dated:
August 18, 2026.
Tomorrow.
And in the lower-right corner of the photograph.
The person wearing the silver watch stood there.
This time.
He finally had a face.
The instant Jin Feixun saw it—
all the color drained from her face.
Because that face.
Was her own.