Lin Shen, occupation: testament agent.
The job he did was simple - to bring the last words to the dying person. In the past three years, I have seen too many secrets and regrets, and I have become hard-hearted.
Until that night, an old man with burns all over his body came to the emergency room. He held my hand tightly and breathed his last breath:
"Tell Lin Shen... That rainy night was not your fault."
I got chills down my spine on the spot.
This old man is my biological father. Eighteen years ago, he was burned to death in a laboratory fire.
I opened the coffin overnight to conduct an autopsy. There was a charred corpse lying in the coffin. The DNA comparison showed that the deceased was not Lin Jianguo.
I followed the clues and found a top-secret death list from a biotechnology company, which clearly stated:
Lin Shen, death time: eighteen years ago.
And I am Lin Shen.
So who am I alive now? Who is in the coffin? There is also a line of small words that has been painted out under the list——
"Memory Receptor Survival Confirmation: Yes."
I have been carrying words for the dead for three years, and finally found that the person who should listen to these words the most is myself.
