Chapter 299: I Am Not Myself
Fang Mu now firmly believed he had forgotten something. He asked his little assistant to investigate what had happened to him during his long trip away.
The little assistant was sensible and obedient, and since it concerned the adored writer teacher, she immediately set about investigating.
Fang Mu, feeling unwell, returned home and searched the home for any useful clues.
Thinking of the eerie white-clothed youth who had suddenly appeared and then suddenly disappeared at the book signing event, Fang Mu should have felt fear toward him, but an inexplicable sense of peace enveloped his trembling heart, and his spirit gradually stabilized.
In the corner of the bookshelf at home, he found a notebook with a cowhide cover, wedged in the corner of the bookshelf to keep it balanced.
Pulling out that worn-covered notebook, the bookshelf immediately collapsed with a crash. Fang Mu narrowly dodged away, almost getting crushed under the heavy bookshelf.
Fang Mu only felt that a certain thread maintaining his reason in his mind suddenly began to tense up, tightly, as if it might snap at any moment.
“Notebook… diary, yes, the notebook element should be in the memories I lost.” Blurry memory scenes surfaced in Fang Mu’s mind. He steadied his spirit and opened the first page of the notebook.
But when he opened the first page, Fang Mu was dumbfounded. The contents of the notebook were so abstract and unfamiliar because what was recorded inside were various paintings, probably paintings with deep meaning.
Then he realized he had been holding the notebook upside down. What he had opened was just the last page of the notebook, so he flipped it over and opened it again from the first page. This time, he finally saw the name of the notebook’s owner, “Lin Sen.”
“Lin Sen…” Fang Mu felt some confusion. This name sounded both strange and familiar.
At that moment, Fang Mu’s mobile phone rang. The phone was buried under the collapsed bookcase. He hurriedly pushed away the bookcase, tossed aside the painting collections and manga books that had fallen from the bookcase, and finally found the phone just before the caller hung up, answering the call.
“Hello.” Fang Mu leaned fatiguedly against the wall. He had just seen the caller ID on the screen; it was from the little assistant. “Did you find something?”
“Mm-hmm, Teacher Wumu, I know where you went on your trip a few days ago and what you did!” The little assistant’s lively voice was pleasant to the ear.
Listening to the little assistant’s voice, Fang Mu could imagine the younger sister’s proud and smug appearance, which actually calmed his mood a bit. He said, “Tell me.”
He adjusted his position leaning against the wall to make himself sit more comfortably, while also casually flipping through the books that had fallen from his bookshelf, muttering unconsciously, “Why are there so many painting and manga books like this.”
Little Assistant: “You went to the Aztec region and took a trip. You stayed in a city called Tenoch in the Aztec region. Except for the night you arrived when you went out to stroll the local market, you spent the following days holed up in the hotel room painting. Then you suddenly booked a flight back to Shenzhou.”
“How do you know this so clearly?” Fang Mu was somewhat bewildered upon hearing this. He seemed to have some impression of these things, but also no impression.
“You drew them all down.” The little assistant said matter-of-factly. Fang Mu heard the sound of drawing paper flipping from the phone.
Paintings? Why did he paint?
“My Teacher Lin Sen, it’s not good to be so forgetful like this. Luckily, the hotel contacted your tour guide. Your tour guide happened to know your identity as a manga artist in Shenzhou, so he immediately mailed all the manga you left at the hotel to the studio. Oh right, and the things you bought locally were sent over too—a pendant that looks quite old, but it’s broken, probably not worth much.” The little assistant clicked her tongue a few times, saying it regretfully.
Fang Mu was stunned, his heart suddenly turning cold by half.
“What did you just call me?” Fang Mu asked tremblingly.
“Teacher Lin Sen, ah, I forgot you don’t like your real name. I should still call you Teacher Wumu.”
“What… what do I do?”
“Oh my god, teacher, your amnesia is too severe. You wouldn’t have even forgotten that you’re a manga artist… Rest first and wait at home. I’ll come find you right now!” Upon hearing Fang Mu’s words, the little assistant immediately cried out in a flustered panic. Noises of clattering came intermittently from Fang Mu’s phone on the ground. “Wait for me, I’m coming right now!”
Beep beep beep…
Fang Mu stood up and slowly walked to the restroom. Looking at that familiar face in the mirror, he held his breath and focused intently… Suddenly, the scene in his vision flashed, and the figure of another person flashed by in the mirror. He was so scared he jumped in place.
At the same time, massive memories were flooding into his mind like a tidal wave. He quickly took off his shirt and touched the ferocious centipede-like heart surgery stitch scar on his chest in the mirror, but his hand passed over the spot in the mirror without him feeling any raised bump at all.
“No, no, no…” Fang Mu fiercely slapped the restroom counter, roaring furiously at the figure in the mirror that was slowly turning into another person. “You’re not me, you’re not me! I’m not called Lin Sen! I’m called Fang Mu! I’m Fang Mu! Fang Mu!!!!!”
The forceful shout made his entire face flush red like a tide, veins bulging and throbbing on his neck. The person in the mirror roared in sync with him, hopping around.
Until oxygen deprivation made him dizzy, his whole body falling backward. The back of his head bumped against the wall, and the real pain forced him to believe it was all true.
He was Fang Mu, but this body was not Fang Mu’s; it belonged to a man called Lin Sen.
He was actually a novelist, not a manga artist.
He was actually a transmigrator swimming against the current in the flood of history, not a reborn person who had changed faces.
……
Everything had become different. It shouldn’t be like this.
At this moment, Fang Mu recalled the white-clothed youth who appeared at the book signing event. He now remembered the other’s identity: the owner of the forest cabin, who had bestowed upon him the spacetime deity’s nail hammer, and who was similarly an unknown and powerful being.
Lin Ling’s words from back then echoed in his ears now, and Fang Mu murmured along: “Everything can deceive you, but the heart will not deceive you.”
As he spoke, Fang Mu touched his smooth chest, a ugly smile flashing across his face.
“So that’s what it means…” Fang Mu laughed somewhat hysterically, though his expression was like one crying in grief. “I didn’t transmigrate. I was reborn into this manga artist named Lin Sen.”
“But… Lin Sen… Wumu… why such a coincidence.” Fang Mu didn’t understand whether it was pure coincidence or someone deliberately arranging it. This “Lin Sen” and “Wumu” perfectly corresponded to the name he would take for himself in his fifth life.
And…
Fang Mu found the new work released at today’s new work book signing event from the collapsed bookcase. This was indeed a novel, but it was adapted from one of his original manga, and he was also one of the scriptwriters for this novel. Precisely because it was a novel, he hadn’t noticed the abnormality in his identity so quickly.
He opened the second page of the book, where there was a folded smooth page full of character standees for the main roles of this manga-adapted novel. Among them, the protagonist’s name Lin Peng also suffocated him.
Lin Peng, broken down, was “six woods,” which meant it might be his identity in the sixth life.
But… how could the him from the fifth life write the story of himself in the sixth life?
