Wingless Bird

In this world, memories are commodities that can be extracted, priced, and sold. Some people sell their first kiss for three months' rent, and some people buy other people's childhood to fill their own emptiness. And those poor people who had their memories drained huddled in the ruins of District 7 with empty eyes and could not even remember their own names. People call them "people without memory" - they have no past, no self, only an empty shell that can still breathe. Dongyu is a memory merchant. Twelve years ago, someone forcibly extracted the most important memory in his life - about a woman, about a signal, and about a word that made his heart hurt every time he wanted to touch it: Klein. He thought he had forgotten her. But his body still remembered. On the back of his right hand, there was a little bird missing its left wing, which was faintly hot deep in the skin. "She's alive. On the other side of the bridge. Come to me." This is the story of a bird flying across a rift in a dimension. About a woman hiding the most important agreement in a man's bone marrow, about a bridge built with the broken memories of twenty people, about the first message discovered by human civilization in the depths of the universe - not a warning, not an invitation, just a syllable that has been folded for a long time, waiting for someone to read it out. We are all birds with missing left wings, waiting for another to fill our wings during the long fall. Those people you thought were lost forever are actually still somewhere in your body. Every unprovoked angina, every inexplicable sadness at dusk, they are knocking on your door with their last bit of warmth. Don't stop. They will hear it. ——The story has already begun.