You can see everyone's past, except your own.
There is only one power in this world that can touch the root of a person. Some use it to rewrite fate; others use it to erase regrets. Lin Cuo uses it to mend countless people's shattered memories and untangle the knots that have held them fast for half their lives.
He has saved many people: strangers, friends, and those dearest to him. But there is one thing he has never been able to do.
He doesn't know who he is.
His past is shrouded in fog. He can't touch it, retrace it, or see through it. He thought he was simply born incomplete, until fate forced him across that line.
He changed just one thing. And the whole world went wrong.
Old faces became new ones, and new lives covered over old memories. The entire world lived in polished, perfect happiness, while Lin Cuo alone clung to that empty old city.
He turned back to chase after what he had lost, to make changes, to keep trying again and again to undo the crooked stitches and sew them straight.
But memories are threads woven into one's bones and blood. Pull out one, and ten come loose. The more he unravels, the more tangled things get; the more he mends, the emptier everything becomes.
Only after plunging into the deepest part of his own memories did he finally see the answer he had sealed away with his own hands.
The person he had been searching for all along was himself.
But the truth he found would take tens of thousands of cycles to set right.
One failure. Ten collapses. Ten thousand attempts.
In the end, the world was stitched back together. Everyone returned to a peaceful course. No one remembered what had happened.
Only he remembered.
He remembered every inch of what had shattered. Every tear shed into the void. Every life corrected without anyone knowing.
