They say you died—in that fire, before the dawn of Ascension.
But I know that you are still alive; living in every tampered memory nerve, living in the answering machine that plays on a loop at three in the morning, living in this neon rainy night that will never go out.
My name is Ling Su, and I used to be a person who weaved illusions with my own hands.
I have deleted countless people's pain, but I have only deleted my own truth:
——That day, I pressed the red button, sent my wife to the server, sold my soul to the system, and put my name on the wanted list.
Now, they give me two options:
1. Forget her forever and be a loyal watchdog;
2. Bite the memory into pieces, drag her out of the data tomb, and then——
Let the whole city be buried with him.
I chose the third one:
Take back the identity that was taken away, tear open the gold-plated shell of this cyber paradise, and let everyone hear,
Hell was actually running beneath their feet.
If you hear someone counting down in a low voice in the rain, don't look back.
That's me formatting "God",
I'm also looking for the last piece,
Fragments about "people".
Memory is sin, truth is punishment.
Welcome to Xinhai City,
The trial begins.
