Everything was going backwards. Yan Zhiyuan could not describe the shock in his heart with words.
He was already in his forties, but he saw himself when he was younger, when he was an adolescent, and when he was a child.
In these memories, the person lying on the bed, who was like an evil spirit that did not die and made him afraid, gradually became young and solemn, but sometimes, he seemed to be a kind father.
Even his dead mother had come back to life in his memory.
Yan Zhiyuan could not explain what was going on. He was like a bystander, watching his childhood experiences replay. He was just a guest, unable to touch any of the scenes in his memory, nor could he interfere with those things.
At first, it was shock, then it became calm, and finally silence.
