Chapter 77

“It’s a medical miracle, really. You have no idea—everyone was sobbing their hearts out, and then you showed signs of opening your eyes. Thank goodness you’re okay. You scared me to death, boo-hoo…”

On a crisp spring morning, the pale pink petals of flowers arranged by the window fluttered gently. Pushing open the door brought a breath of cool morning breeze.

Birdsong wove sweetly through the flowering trees as sunlight filtered through the layered branches and leaves, spilling across the window to bathe the woman listening quietly to the person beside her. It cast a shimmering halo around her.

After Yu Nian finished speaking, Ye Chengxing smiled and replied warmly, “It wasn’t anything too serious. Look at me now—I’m perfectly fine, right?”

As she spoke, she instinctively lifted her hand to ruffle the girl’s hair, but she caught herself midway and let it hover in the air.

Ye Chengxing smoothly withdrew her hand. “Come on, it’s time for rounds.”

Yu Nian had just finished crying, and her mentor’s gentle coaxing tone nearly brought fresh tears to her eyes, turning them into a watery mess.

She bit her lip and took a deep breath. “Sis, wait while I freshen up. Be right there!”

Hearing the familiar form of address, Ye Chengxing paused for a couple of seconds before murmuring an acknowledgment. “No rush. We’ve got time.”

With that, she glanced down at her hand, a flicker of puzzlement crossing her features.

She didn’t have a habit of touching other people’s heads like that. More importantly, such a gesture was far too intimate for her usual social interactions, where she always maintained a careful physical distance. So why had the impulse come so naturally all of a sudden?

In the brief moment of her contemplation, Yu Nian had already tidied herself up and returned to her side. “Sis, all set!”

“Good,” Ye Chengxing responded. When she spoke again, her tone carried a subtle hesitation. “But let’s hold off on the ‘Sis’ for now.”

Something about the word felt like it belonged to someone else… though she couldn’t quite recall who.

Yu Nian blinked, assuming Doctor Ye wanted her to act more professionally for rounds, and grinned cheekily. “Got it, Doctor Ye. Understood, Doctor Ye~”

Rounds began shortly after.

As Yu Nian watched the woman’s figure and listened to her patient, gentle voice—so mild and enduring—she couldn’t help averting her gaze slightly.

It wasn’t just the patients; even the interns trailing behind Ye Chengxing adored her.

Truth be told, Yu Nian hadn’t been thrilled about the family-arranged internship at the hospital at first. But who could’ve guessed her supervising doctor would turn out to be such an absolute knockout? Just watching her every day sent Yu Nian’s mood soaring, with happy drool practically leaking from the corners of her mouth.

Cool and aloof yet effortlessly warm, ascetic yet irresistibly teasing, with a slender waist, long legs, and features so striking they bordered on unfair—not to mention she was a top graduate student with an impeccable resume…

Talk about a perfect strike to her tastes. I’m done for.

After finishing rounds with the handful of interns in tow, Ye Chengxing glanced down at her wristwatch. Yu Nian edged a little closer and whispered timidly, “I’ve got one thing I’m super curious about… Do you have a girlfriend?”

She wasn’t even sure about Ye Chengxing’s orientation and hadn’t meant to blurt it out like that, but nerves got the better of her.

Ye Chengxing didn’t bat an eye at the question. Her response came naturally and without a hitch. “I do have a girlfriend.”

Disappointment washed over Yu Nian, though it made perfect sense.

She consoled herself inwardly. Of course someone this amazing would be taken.

Still, she couldn’t help blushing and her heart racing. Doctor Ye’s scent was intoxicating—like oolong tea.

She even murmured the thought aloud.

Ye Chengxing’s expression remained unchanged, but inwardly, she was even more baffled.

…She wasn’t wearing any perfume.

And why had she instinctively answered that she had a girlfriend?

Ye Chengxing felt like she’d forgotten something crucially important.

Her instincts screamed that it mattered, yet no matter how she tried, the specifics eluded her—like someone had deliberately compelled her to forget. The memory lay shrouded in an impenetrable fog, tantalizingly close yet forever out of reach, hazy and indistinct.

She woke once more from the dream and reached for the phone on her bedside table.

Judging by the date displayed, it had been ten days since she’d emerged from her coma.

The days since had been utterly ordinary: concerned messages from friends, familial worry, everyone urging her to take it easy and not overwork herself.

But… this was the ninth time she’d had this exact dream.

The scene was identical each time—a vast blizzard, a girl in a bloodstained wedding dress cradling an enormous bouquet of white roses.

She wasn’t crying, yet the moment Ye Chengxing witnessed it, an overwhelming sorrow flooded her heart.

Even after waking, the lingering palpitation haunted her.

This girl was someone profoundly important to her.

But why couldn’t she remember who?

The inexplicable oolong tea scent that had appeared on her body, the unfamiliar habits that had crept in, the form of address that left her stunned, and that blurted-out phrase: “I have a girlfriend.”

A massive void gaped in her heart.

Snapping back to awareness, Ye Chengxing realized tears were streaming down her face unbidden.

She touched her neck, sensing an absence there as well.

She rarely wore jewelry, but now it felt wrong—like she ought to have a necklace, a ring.

She remembered owning a cat, yet it too had vanished.

The bathroom’s LED lights blazed brightly as Ye Chengxing cupped a handful of cold water and splashed it over her face.

The dream’s core scene remained the same, but not entirely unchanged.

Most notably, the first time, she’d been rooted in place, only able to gaze from afar. But in this latest one, she could walk toward the girl—albeit slowly. At this rate, a couple more dreams and she might actually reach her.

It should have been just a dream, yet deep down, she sensed it was more.

She desperately wanted to embrace the girl from her dreams.

Ye Chengxing dried her face carefully, thinking she might try sleeping again soon. After all, she’d taken extended leave.

“…Did you accidentally awaken an innate ability?”

A stranger’s voice suddenly sounded in her ear.

Ye Chengxing looked up to find a small orb of light hovering before her.

The orb glowed with pure white radiance and circled her curiously, like an inquisitive sprite.

By all rights, the sight should have shocked her to her core—an otherworldly scene that defied reality. Yet in that moment, Ye Chengxing felt no surprise at all.

It was as if she’d witnessed far more astonishing things, leaving her utterly unfazed. She could even calmly counter with a question. “What’s an innate ability?”

The orb halted its orbits, seemingly caught off guard by her composure.

“You’re pretty chill about this. Truth is, I came to patch a bug. The Independent World you inhabit is a standard modern one, tagged only as [urban] and [modern], with nothing else. But you’re no ordinary glitch—you’ve awakened your own innate ability, something like world-shuttling. It’s perfect for a job at the Space-Time Bureau.”

The orb chattered excitedly, then cleared its nonexistent throat. “Hey, seriously—want to come work for the Space-Time Bureau?”

As if fearing rejection, it launched into a rundown of employee perks before adding, “You’ve mostly awakened your ability already, but hopping to other worlds right now would still take time. Join as an employee, though, and it’s different. You’d get an Employee Pass instantly, letting you travel freely between worlds. So, what do you say?”

The orb fretted visibly, rattling off more benefits before she could respond.

Ye Chengxing listened to the orb’s spiel.

The perks didn’t particularly entice her, but that bit about unrestricted travel to and from Small Worlds struck a chord.

None of this felt remotely real—a random glowing orb of unknown origins and motives. Logically, she had no reason to trust it. Yet an inexplicable intuition assured her every word was true.

“I’ve lost a chunk of my memory,” she said after a long pause, sidestepping the recruitment pitch. “Can you help me recover it?”

The orb froze mid-spin.

“That’s tricky. Someone invoked a Wish Contract through the System to make you forget. You haven’t fully erased it—in fact, you’ve even awakened an ability because of it… I can’t restore it directly, but if you head to that world, it’ll come back gradually.”

Ye Chengxing pondered the orb’s words for a moment.

“Show me the employee agreement. I’ll sign.”

The orb introduced itself as one of the primary Systems at Space-Time Bureau headquarters, code-named 999.

After signing the agreement, 999 escorted Ye Chengxing to HQ to process her employee credentials and, as promised, issued her an Employee Pass.

With the Space-Time Bureau’s Employee Pass in hand, she could now travel freely within Small Worlds—and even bring someone along if she wished.

Ye Chengxing eyed the orb leading the way ahead of her.

She’d just heard 999’s self-introduction, yet the designation triggered another in her mind: 001.

She had no idea why those three digits had surfaced.

Silently repeating “001” to herself, she casually asked, “Little Nine, how do your Systems’ codes work? Are they ranked?”

999 explained, “Pretty straightforward: the higher the number, the stronger the ability. Codes aren’t fixed—they shift based on power levels.”

“The lowest, like 001, are the weakest. Capable Systems handle multiple Small Worlds, but a 001-tier one can barely manage a single one. Low codes fluctuate fast, while higher ones stay stable.”

Ye Chengxing listened to 999’s words and paused for a moment before speaking again. “For example, is the world I’m in also managed by a system?”

999 shook its head. “Not exactly. Your world is an independent one. The worlds we handle are the problematic ones that can’t sustain themselves on their own. For independent worlds like yours, we only step in to fix bugs when they crop up—we don’t keep a constant watch. But whether it’s small worlds or fully independent ones, the Space-Time Bureau’s job is to keep them all running stably. We exist outside every world.”

Just as 999 finished speaking, it led her to a massive light screen.

It instructed her to place her hand on the screen and visualize the world she wanted to visit—or anything connected to it.

Ye Chengxing had no real idea what world she was aiming for. She pressed her hand to the surface, her mind filling with the image of the girl from her dreams. With a single thought, the designation for that small world appeared on the screen.

999 glanced at it and reacted with mild surprise. “I remember this small world was on the verge of collapsing, but it’s still hanging on? That system designated 001 must be pretty capable. It might even earn a new code name at this rate.”

Having expressed that brief sentiment, 999 quickly explained how to enter the small world. Since Ye Chengxing already had an Employee Pass, she could access it anytime she wanted.

Ye Chengxing glanced at the number glowing on the light screen. Without a second’s hesitation, she activated the channel and stepped into the small world.

Cars zipped through the sky above, while buildings of extravagant splendor stretched toward the clouds.

High-altitude rail lines sliced across the horizon, trailing streaks of brilliant silver light.

Ye Chengxing took in the sights of this new world.

…This had to be the world where the girl from her dreams lived.

It shared some similarities with her own, but far more elements felt utterly foreign.

And yet, amid this unfamiliar environment, she sensed a hazy familiarity—as if she had once called this place home.

Ye Chengxing ran a hand over her clothes. Entering the small world as a Space-Time Bureau employee had automatically loaded her mind with its basic settings. Even better, her pockets now held items tailored for use here.

She pulled them out for a look and discovered she instinctively knew what each one was, right down to the oddly shaped phone.

Ye Chengxing was now convinced that she had lost a chunk of her memory.

It was just like her nagging certainty that she ought to remember the girl from her dreams—that they had crossed paths somehow—but no matter how hard she tried, the details eluded her.

Deep down, she knew the girl was profoundly important to her, someone she could never afford to forget.

And now, here she was, in that girl’s world.

But it was a vast place, and without a single clue about her, where could she even start?

…Where do I even look?

Ye Chengxing wandered aimlessly along the street. After only a few steps, her feet came to a halt.

She lifted her eyes to the enormous dynamic billboard dominating the city center.

The woman displayed there was the very girl from her dreams—though far more mature and strikingly alluring now. She resembled a radiant rose concealed in shadowed gloom, her beauty as sharp and perilous as a blade stained with blood, both dangerous and breathtakingly gorgeous.

Ye Chengxing’s pause drew no odd looks; passersby stopped now and then, utterly captivated by the figure on the screen.

From their chatter, she caught a name—Li Jia.

The moment she heard it, her mind supplied the precise characters without effort.

Ye Chengxing pulled out her phone. Spotting a shop called Risheng Milk Tea nearby, she decided to grab a drink, sit for a bit, and search for information on Li Jia.

With that in mind, she stepped inside.

She scanned the menu and placed her order. “One Cheese Milk Cap Peach, please.”

As she spoke, she paid with Star Coins.

Ye Chengxing had no personal memory of enjoying Cheese Milk Cap Peach, but such moments were becoming routine. She was growing accustomed to blurting out phrases tied to impressions she couldn’t quite grasp.

“Got it, one Cheese Milk Cap Peach…” The clerk—a woman with a head of vibrant pink hair—entered the order and then looked up.

Fu Tao’s eyes widened at the sight of Ye Chengxing standing before her. She blurted out, “Holy shit!”

Her tongue promptly tied itself in knots. “B-B-Boss?”