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### Introduction 1:
At three o'clock in the morning on the fifteenth day of every month, Xie Yan would always wake up from the burning pain in his lungs.
In the broken memory, the woman in the burgundy cheongsam stood in front of the mixing console. When her fingertips brushed the knobs, the tail of her hair swept across the back of his hand: "You owe me a sobriety."
Following his memory, he reached the "Tingfeng" tuning room, where he saw a woman with cinnabar moles at the end of her eyes lowering her eyes while she was tuning the instrument.
When she raised her head, her eyes flickered: "We have never met."
But he clearly remembered that when he blocked a knife for her one rainy night, the dull sound of the blade piercing her lungs; but in the surveillance video, he jumped on the knife blade for another woman that same night - two sets of memories were fighting in his mind, and every time he had to sort out a clue, the white noise was like a steel needle piercing the eardrum, erasing all the key fragments.
It wasn't until Lin Ying handed over warm water with red eyes that he caught a glimpse of the cinnabar mark at the end of her eyes; until he turned over the bloody work badge in the old recording studio - the name was Su Zhuo, but the photo was of Lin Ying.
It turned out that Su Zhuo, who died in a car accident three years ago, had been drugged into a puppet; it turned out that the memory that was erased every month contained the scene of him pushing Lin Ying off the rooftop with his own hands.
He clutched his work badge tightly and heard the crisp sound of piano tuning coming from outside the door.
"Brother Ayan?"
This time, he will never forget anything he said——
To whom was the sobriety he owed something reserved for?
