Neon lights flowed like blood on the glass walls. Zhuge Xingchenrui stood on the rooftop, looking at the city that never sleeps below him. The smell of burning electronic waste floats in the air, mixed with the aroma of cumin from street skewers stalls. In the distance, a female star in a holographic advertisement is promoting the latest memory chip that can let you experience the feeling of first love for only nine thousand nine hundred and ninety-nine. Hold. He put out his cigarette butt and walked into the stairwell. The iron door slammed shut behind him, causing the wall to fall down. Three days ago, he was working at the memory transplant center. Your daily job is to implant customized memories into customers. Want a rich experience? Implant a memory of inheriting tens of billions of wealth into you.
