I've been to many haunted houses. In every copy, he will die in front of me.
The first time, he was dragged away by the wall; the second time, he blocked the blade to save me; the third time, I sacrificed my life for him - since then, I have become the only person who remembers him.
The rules say: The dead are forgotten. But I remember every time he died, and the way he looked at me before he died.
He doesn't remember me. Every time he resets, he is a stranger, but his body remembers - remembers what he said in the stairwell, remembers the keychain around my waist, remembers that he always looks for me before he dies.
His name was written on the library card, for the seventh time.
In the family photo in the deep house, there is his face in a hospital gown.
The registration sign for bed No. 07 In the air raid shelter read: Chen Que, 26 years old, delusional.
Before his death in the eighth round, he said: I always feel like I know you.
In the ninth round, he asked: Who are you?
In the tenth round, I decided not to let him die.
Cycles have a source, and forgetting has a price. And that source is waiting for me to pull it out with my own hands.
Intention: Forgetting is not death, being forgotten is; and true love is when the world forgets you, there is still someone who remembers everything for you. Borrow\
