Long Yang folded up Lu Liangwei's handkerchief neatly. He examined the clean, white cloth in his hand which had no images or embroideries on it, and felt a tightness in his chest.
An image flashed in his mind.
It felt like he had folded the exact same handkerchief once upon a time and had cherished it greatly, keeping it in his pocket.
He would also take it out often to look at it, to inhale its scent…
He was momentarily stunned as he stared at the handkerchief in his hand. He forced himself to not place the handkerchief close to his face to smell it.
An unhappy look appeared on his face when he realized what he had been about to do.
He placed his palm on his forehead, suddenly feeling like something was wrong with him.
Could he really be infected by a parasitic venom and lost a portion of his memories?
