Lin Wan opened his eyes again at 12 o'clock in the evening.
The copper key on the bedside was still pressed against the faded medical record, and the nightingale was singing outside the window - the same as the six previous times. She touched her left breast. The gunshot wound disappeared, but the blood stain on her shirt was still there, like a dried rust-colored rose.
"We must find him this time." She grabbed the key, the tooth marks leaving a familiar sting in her palm.
Three days ago, Lin Wan was an ordinary psychiatrist, until her patient Chen Mo handed over the key in the consultation room and said something incredible: "When you wake up for the seventh time, use this to open my memory."
Then he pulled the trigger in front of her.
But now, Lin Wan finally understood that it was never Chen Mo who died, but herself.
Intention: Infinite reversal