Everyone is implanted with a chip at birth and lives in a simulacrum woven by the brain. The out-of-control executor will be formatted and turned into a mirror executor.
But my chip was inherently bad.
Zhinao has chased me for three hundred years, three hundred reincarnations, and three hundred times it deliberately let me live. It's waiting for me to grow up, waiting for me to come to it.
And I'm waiting for someone. She forgets me every day.
Only I can see those tears. It's urging me: faster, faster.
