CHAPTER 55: THE ‘LOCKED’ MEMORIES

"Jianyi, you really don’t want to have lunch with me?" Ling Xi asked, her tone laced with exaggerated disappointment. She pouted, tossing her book into her backpack with a dramatic sigh.

The two had just finished their classes, and as usual, they would head to the cafeteria for their routine lunch. It was an unspoken tradition by now, one Ling Xi cherished. But today, something was off—Qi Jianyi had unexpectedly bailed on her.

Qi Jianyi, sensing the dramatic shift in the air, chuckled softly. Ling Xi’s pout was too comical to take seriously. "No, I really can’t today," she said, her voice soft but firm. "I have something to take care of." Her lips curved into a small smile as she noticed the way Ling Xi’s expression shifted from sulking to pure suspicion.

"Something?" Ling Xi’s eyes widened in curiosity. "What kind of ’something’? Come on, tell me, maybe I can help!" She leaned in, now more intrigued than upset, her curiosity piqued. The sulk was gone, replaced by her relentless need to pry into Qi Jianyi’s personal life.

Rolling her eyes, Qi Jianyi placed a hand on Ling Xi’s shoulder, gently pushing her back. "You? Help?" she scoffed lightly, her amusement clear. "I’m just going to visit someone. Nothing you need to worry about."

"Visit who?" Ling Xi’s eyes sparkled with new excitement, as if Qi Jianyi had just told her she was off on some grand adventure. "Take me with you! You’re terrible at talking to people anyway. I’ll handle the conversation. You just stand there and look pretty!" She latched onto Qi Jianyi’s arm, her enthusiasm bubbling over as she tried to pull her towards the parking lot.

Qi Jianyi narrowed her eyes, pulling her arm free with exaggerated patience. "Do you really think I’m that helpless?" she asked, her voice low and warning, though a glint of humour flickered in her eyes. "I can talk just fine, thank you. Honestly, don’t you think your opinion of me is a bit too low?"

Ling Xi froze for a moment, her eyes widening as she realised she might have gone too far. Qi Jianyi’s narrowed gaze was sharp enough to send a shiver down her spine. She could almost imagine herself being tossed off the nearest building for her cheekiness.

"Haha, no! No, no, no!" Ling Xi quickly backtracked, laughing nervously as she rubbed the back of her neck. "I didn’t say that! I mean... did I? Of course not!" Her voice pitched higher, betraying her nerves. "Actually, I just remembered—my dad asked me to come home for lunch today. Yeah, I completely forgot! I’m so sorry, but I have to go!"

Without waiting for a response, Ling Xi turned on her heel and bolted, her footsteps echoing across the hall as she fled, her arms flailing slightly in her haste. "See you tomorrow, Jianyi! Byeee!"

Qi Jianyi watched her go, arms crossed, an amused smirk playing on her lips. She shook her head slowly, muttering to herself, "That girl will be the death of me one day."

...

Qi Jianyi stepped out of her car, the warm summer air wrapping around her like a blanket. The sun was high, casting dappled shadows beneath the trees as a soft hum of chatter and laughter filled the air.

She glanced toward the park ahead, a place etched with memories that didn’t truly belong to her—yet somehow, they felt real.

Following Song Chengfeng’s advice, Qi Jianyi had resolved to start her journey home by unlocking the memories that had somehow remained hidden. She needed to face them, one by one.

Her first stop was the park, the place where the young original Qi Jianyi had once found freedom. Now, standing at the entrance, Qi Jianyi knew this was where her journey had to begin.

The park was far from abandoned as children ran across the green lawns, their voices mixing with the distant sounds of cyclists and birds in the trees. It was vibrant, alive, and exactly as the original Qi Jianyi had once known it.

As she walked past the park gates, a sense of purpose settled in her chest.

She moved slowly, her eyes scanning the familiar sights—the benches, the flower beds, and the fountain that stood in the heart of the park. It was all so ordinary, yet she could sense the echoes of the past calling out to her.

The original Qi Jianyi had played here, laughed here, and, in a way, Qi Jianyi hoped that by walking these paths, she could find pieces of that lost life.

Her steps brought her to the old oak tree near the playground, its thick branches offering shade from the sun. It was here, she knew, where the original Qi Jianyi’s nanny would sit while watching her play. Qi Jianyi paused, her hand brushing the rough bark of the tree.

The connection she sought felt close, yet elusive, like a word just out of reach.

Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes, trying to immerse herself in the sensations around her—the warmth of the sun, the sounds of children playing, the rustle of leaves in the gentle breeze.

She wasn’t here just to visit; she was searching, hoping to unlock the memories that still lingered, hidden deep within her mind.

For a moment, she could almost feel it—the joy, the innocence, the sense of safety that once belonged to the original Qi Jianyi.

It was fleeting, like a shadow slipping away, but it was enough to remind her why she had come. There was something here, some part of her past that she needed to reclaim.

"Xiao Yi! Go ahead, play with your friends. Nanny will be right here watching you, so don’t worry, okay?"

"Xiao Yi, are you getting hungry? Let’s go grab some meat buns, just the way you like them."

"Oh, who’s this with you? Shi Susu? Is Xiao Su your new friend?"

"Of course, Xiao Yi is my favourite! Who wouldn’t love you? Our Xiao Yi is the cutest, after all!"

A rushed, fleeting image flickered in her mind, hazy but unmistakable. Qi Jianyi knew immediately that it was part of the ’locked’ memories she had come here to unlock.

The voice, soft and filled with warmth, belonged to none other than the original Qi Jianyi’s nanny—the woman who had been more of a mother to her than anyone else.

The voice was soothing, carrying a comforting reassurance that made the younger Qi Jianyi feel safe, loved. It was a tone meant to ease fears, to wipe away the loneliness she had endured.

But for Qi Jianyi now, those memories brought more than just warmth. They came with pain—a sudden, sharp headache that made her wince. She pressed a hand to her temple, her brows furrowing as the voice continued to echo in her head.

"My Xiao Yi is so lovely. Everyone will love playing with you. Don’t be afraid. Nanny is here to watch over you, and you can play happily, okay?"

As the memories began to pour in, her mind became overwhelmed, spiraling into chaos. It wasn’t just the voice—it was the laughter, the familiar places, the sense of belonging that young Qi Jianyi had once felt. A single tear slipped from her eye, trailing down her cheek as she clung to the nearby tree for support. Her body trembled, her eyes wide and unfocused, as if she were caught between two worlds—the present and the past.

It felt like an eternity had passed, but when she glanced at her phone, it had been barely five minutes. Five minutes, yet it felt as if she had relived years of someone else’s life.

Breathing deeply, Qi Jianyi tried to sort through the unlocked memories, searching for any clue—anything that might help her understand why she had come here.

But all she saw were images of happiness, scenes of the original Qi Jianyi’s carefree moments with her nanny. The woman who had been her everything.

For reasons she couldn’t fully explain, a profound sense of loss washed over Qi Jianyi. She felt the ache of missing someone she had never truly met, only known through borrowed memories.

It was a strange, melancholic yearning—a longing for the warmth and love of a person she had no connection to, yet felt tied to all the same.

It struck her then, painfully clear, that these memories weren’t revealing the path to her true home. They weren’t a solution to the mystery she had hoped to solve.

No, these memories had surfaced for another reason—to remind her, to ask her to mourn for the woman who had been the only true caregiver to the little miss, Qi Jianyi.

Perhaps, Qi Jianyi thought, the original owner of these memories had wanted her to pay her respects. After all, since the nanny’s passing, the original Qi Jianyi had only visited her grave once.

The sadness in that realisation weighed heavily on her heart, and Qi Jianyi wondered if that was her next step—not to unravel the puzzle of her own life, but to honour the only person who had ever truly cared for the little girl named Qi Jianyi.

"Qi Jianyi, you’re really pissing me off."