The red mist descends, and the world becomes a manuscript paper written by high dimensions. A number appears on everyone's wrist - it is the scale of fate and the solidification of "Qi". The lower the number, the closer to death.
There was nothing on Shen Zhou's wrist.
He is a loophole in the rules themselves, a blank page that has never been written. He can see what others cannot see: whose numbers are fading and who will be completely forgotten. He can also see deeper - behind those numbers, how much "qi" is still flowing, how many "roots" have not been broken.
This is the seventh reincarnation. The first six times, he failed to survive to the end, and each time he lost the person he wanted to protect in front of the rules. But this time, someone waited for him seven reincarnations just to tell him one sentence:
You are a blank slate. Don't let anyone put pen to paper.
This is not a happy article - Shen Zhou did not crush him all the way, he would only become more and more transparent and closer to disappearing.
This is not a sweet book - the emotions are only hidden in the pause of 0.5 Seconds, in the hands that want to touch but then withdraw.
This is not a fast-paced book - it requires you to slow down and discover the "unsaid".
If you can accept that the protagonist speaks very little, the supporting characters are really dead, and the tone is depressing, so depressing that there may only be a little light in the end - then this book may be something you will remember for a long time.
Because this book is not about "living", but "being remembered".
In this world where rules can be erased at any time,
Remember, is the only resistance.
