Chapter 164: The Memorial Service
Everyone stared at Yitianlin's retreating figure, their eyes filled with astonishment. Why had someone who was still hospitalized suddenly appeared at the memorial? And why did Yitianlin seem so unfamiliar now, as if he were a completely different person?
Despite people calling out to him, Yitianlin appeared deaf to their voices. He didn't utter a single word in response.
As the guests gradually left, Yitianlin remained motionless, standing still for nearly two hours. Liang Xiaoluo watched him anxiously. "Tianlin, the doctor said you shouldn't stand for too long. We should—"
Before she could finish, Yitianlin suddenly collapsed, his body crumpling like a puppet whose strings had been cut.
On instinct, Liang Xiaoluo leapt forward, attempting to catch him, but his weight was too much for her slight frame. She fell beneath him, cushioning his fall with her own body.
"Tianlin! Xiaoluo!"
"Riner!"
Yitianqing and Hualin rushed forward, carefully rolling Yitianlin over to check for signs of life. They heaved a sigh of relief upon finding his breathing steady.
But Hualin's demeanor quickly turned cold. She pushed Xiaoluo away with a barely hidden force.
"Old Lin, what are you standing there for? Call the doctor!" Hualin barked.
The doctor arrived promptly, and with the help of the attendants, Yitianlin was carried back to the hospital.
Xiaoluo, left behind, felt like a discarded object. Apart from Yitianqing and Xiluo, no one seemed to even notice her presence.
She tried to follow, her heart aching to stay close to Yitianlin, but Hualin blocked her path, her voice icy. "Haven't you done enough harm to Riner? Do you think your presence will help him recover?"
Xiaoluo froze, her steps faltering.
"If you truly care about his well-being," Hualin continued, "stay away from him. For good."
Leaving those harsh words, Hualin turned and followed the ambulance.
Xiaoluo stood rooted to the spot, her spirit shattered. She wanted so badly to argue, to run after the ambulance, but she couldn't find the courage.
"Tianlin's condition isn't your fault, Xiaoluo," Yitianqing said, trying to console her.
Xiaoluo said nothing, her silence more eloquent than any words.
Xiluo, who had been silent this whole time, finally spoke up. "Did something happen to him?"
The question startled Yitianqing, but Xiaoluo kept her head bowed.
"Xiaoluo, did something happen to Tianlin?" Yitianqing asked.
Slowly, Xiaoluo raised her head. "Those eyes… they seemed so unfamiliar, didn't they?"
"What do you mean?" Yitianqing asked, confused.
Xiluo, on the other hand, remained uncharacteristically quiet.
"The doctor said… he's lost his memory," Xiaoluo said softly, her voice trembling.
Her words hit them like a thunderclap. She had been bracing herself for this moment, but it was no less painful to say out loud. When Yitianlin had woken up, she had so many things she wanted to say to him. But when his first words were, "Who are you?" she had been left utterly speechless.
"How is that possible? He still remembers Grandfather!" Yitianqing protested.
"It's only subconscious," Xiaoluo explained. "The doctor said he might retain faint impressions, but he doesn't truly remember anything—not even Grandfather."
Her explanation brought clarity to Xiluo, who had also noticed Yitianlin's distant gaze earlier. It wasn't something he could fake; it was the blank stare of someone who had forgotten everything.
The accident had robbed him of his memories.
The three of them stood in stunned silence for a long time.
"Xiaoluo," Yitianqing said finally, "come with me to the hospital. Maybe his memory loss is treatable. He'll remember you soon enough, I'm sure of it."
But Xiaoluo shook her head, pulling away from Yitianqing's hand. "I shouldn't see him right now. The doctor said he shouldn't be overstimulated in his current state. Seeing me might only make things worse. It's better this way."
She forced herself to believe it, though it broke her heart.
After Yitianqing left, Xiluo stood silently beside Xiaoluo, his presence a quiet anchor. "What will you do now?" he asked after a while.
Xiaoluo clutched her chest, her strength draining away. She sank to the ground, tears streaming down her face. "He doesn't remember me. Why? After everything we went through together… why doesn't he remember me?"
Her sobs were heart-wrenching, her anguish palpable.
"They said he might never regain his memories," she whispered. "He might never remember who I was to him…"
Xiluo knelt beside her, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Tianlin won't forget you," he said gently. "What you two shared can't simply vanish."
Xiaoluo looked up at him, her tear-streaked face filled with despair. "Wouldn't it be better this way? If he could forget all the pain and suffering we endured, wouldn't that be kinder?"
Xiluo paused, surprised by her question. "No," he said firmly. "Some memories, even painful ones, are too important to lose. They define who we are."
"But if he can't remember, how could it hurt him?" Xiaoluo challenged.
"It will," Xiluo replied, his gaze steady. "Even if his mind forgets, his heart won't. That kind of pain lingers."
His conviction left her momentarily speechless. She stared at her hands, as if trying to feel for the truth within herself.
Suddenly, she pressed her hand to her chest, over her heart. For a moment, the world seemed to fade away, leaving only the sound of her heartbeat.
The stillness was comforting, yet she couldn't ignore the faint ache deep inside. Somewhere in the depths of her heart, there was a sorrow she couldn't fully understand—a distant echo of pain.
Startled, she dropped her hand, cold sweat beading on her forehead.
"What did you feel?" Xiluo asked.
"Nothing," Xiaoluo said hastily, avoiding his gaze. "I didn't feel anything."
Before Xiluo could press further, she stood abruptly. "Thank you, Xiluo. But I have to go."
Without waiting for a reply, she walked away, her steps hurried and unsteady.
Wandering aimlessly through the bustling streets, Xiaoluo felt like a ghost, lost amidst the crowd. She was just another nameless face in a sea of people.
And yet, the weight of her sorrow was hers alone to bear.