Jiang Konghen has hyperamnesia.
Nothing can be forgotten.
The small mole on my grandma's wrist bone during her funeral when I was seven years old. Twelve-year-old cat with docked tail in the alley. Everything he has seen, heard, and happened is automatically filed into the library in his mind.
The pages of the book are not scattered and the order is not disordered.
Until he dreamed that he turned into a demon and was stabbed through the throat by a sword. When I woke up, my lip was broken, and blood dripped into the crack of the broken jade passed down from my family. There was a streak of blood on the jade, which matched his heartbeat, one after another.
Later, he met Ning Luoyuan.
When she gets close, the broken jade will burn and the cat on her pencil case will move. His hair was loose, and she handed him the hair tie. He was covered in blood, but she didn't ask. All she said was: "Next time, don't go alone."
Later, a Tianyuan royal family broke into his sea of consciousness and wanted to swallow all his memories. After turning through all the pages, it curled up in the corner of the bookshelf and said, "I want to live here."
Jiang Konghen began to change.
She has long silver-gray hair, cinnabar brows, and warm golden pupils. The once cool and ordinary scholar became the most amazing boy in the school overnight.
In the sword-controlling class, the spiritual energy backfired at ten meters high. Ning Luoyuan rushed out of the crowd and hugged him. When he woke up, his hand was in the wrong place. She blushed and scolded: "You are a scumbag."
The whole school screamed. My deskmate blushed. He was the only one watching the show who knew the monster in the sea.
He apologized, thanked him, wiped his sword and returned the sword. The etiquette is thorough and precise. He thought that this would clear things up.
But she saved him twice.
The first time in Liuxiang, she fed him Pulse Protection Pill and kept him there for an hour. No name left.
The second time at the playground, she caught him in front of everyone.
He knew none of it.
And the real fate happened even earlier——
"I am the first pen in the world."
"You were the first picture I drew on paper."
Purpose: Writing to convey the truth