Nanke Yifu Chapter 12
bySeeking Chi Fu’s Whereabouts (12)
Chi Fu was afraid of ghosts, so when he saw a person suddenly appear beside him, his first reaction was that his house was haunted. His second reaction was to wonder if this person’s Anomaly might be something like teleportation, and they had appeared in his house because something went wrong.
But honestly, if it really was a ghost, Chi Fu would welcome him as a roommate. He only realized today that even though he was afraid of ghosts, he wasn’t afraid of handsome ghosts.
It was just… this ghost seemed to be here to collect a debt.
“Do you remember me?” the handsome male ghost asked expressionlessly, his voice sounding no different from a normal person’s.
“What happens if I don’t remember?” Chi Fu asked timidly.
The male ghost sighed and said, “Nothing will happen.”
“Did I owe you something in your past life?” Chi Fu had already accepted that his house was haunted. For someone who was deathly afraid of ghosts, the first real encounter was actually a little exciting. “Or did you used to live in this house?”
The male ghost frowned, looking at him with an expression that seemed to say, “Did his brain break too?” He uttered a confused, “Huh?”
“Aren’t you…” Chi Fu waved his hand in the air a couple of times, saying, “The ghost who suddenly appeared in my house?”
The other person seemed exasperated. He took a deep breath, turned, and started to walk away. Before Chi Fu could feel scared, he returned with a Little Book, tossed it into Chi Fu’s arms, and sat down silently nearby.
It seemed this ghost was not only good-looking but also had a good temper. Even when angered, he just sulked instead of immediately eating him.
Flipping open the diary, Chi Fu read through the pages. The handwriting was indeed his own. Only then did Chi Fu realize that this ghost… no, this person walked by taking steps, not by floating.
Mistaking a person for a ghost, and that person being the lover he had forgotten—what kind of mess was this?
But he had to admit, if he wasn’t a ghost, his complexion was far too poor. Pale, gaunt, with dull eyes. He should have been a healthy person, yet Chi Fu could distinctly see traces of frailty and illness in him, as if a single gust of cold wind through an open window could snap him.
“Afraid of ghosts, yet you managed to be in a Romantic Relationship with a ‘ghost’ for so many years. Your courage is truly commendable,” Yan Laixi mocked him. “Should I give you an award?”
The sun was high outside; it was noon, but for them, it was the dead of night, the time when they were so exhausted they could barely keep their eyes open. Yan Laixi was truly a person with little temper. Forgotten by Chi Fu and then mistaken for a haunting, he only maintained his cold expression for a moment before softening his tone and telling him, “Let’s sleep first.”
“Huh? Now?” Chi Fu asked. Although it didn’t feel real, more like reading a story or playing a game, the diary allowed him to understand the current situation and roughly grasp everything they had been doing these past few days.
Hypothesizing, testing various possibilities, recording them, and eliminating them one by one.
“Yes,” Yan Laixi said. “It’s a good chance to verify whether or not it’s completely unrelated to sleep.”
“Then you go wash up first. I’ll make a note, and I’ll sleep once I’m done.” Chi Fu shook the Little Book in his hand, indicating he still had one task left to complete.
Yan Laixi snatched the diary away and placed it in the middle of the table. “Go to sleep. No need to write it down.”
“Why shouldn’t I write it down?” Chi Fu asked.
“You can write it tomorrow,” Yan Laixi said, pushing him toward the bathroom.
“But I might not remember when I wake up after sleeping,” Chi Fu resisted slightly, but to no avail.
“I remember,” Yan Laixi said. “I’m tired. If you stay up and make noise, I won’t be able to sleep either. Hurry up and sleep.”
The curtains blocked the outdoor light, and the indoor lights were turned off. The house became completely dark. Chi Fu lay in bed for a long time, but Yan Laixi still hadn’t entered the bedroom.
He got out of bed, intending to see what Yan Laixi was doing. The moment he opened the door, the person lying on the sofa recited the answer like reading lines, before Chi Fu could even ask.
“I’m not sleeping in the room. You might get scared if you open your eyes and see a stranger next to you. I’m not sleeping in the Study Room either; it’s creepy when someone suddenly appears in a house where everything was fine. And I won’t switch with you, so you don’t suspect you blacked out and had a one-night stand with me every day. I don’t need a blanket; I find it too hot. A throw pillow is fine for a pillow. If you have no more questions, go back to sleep.”
That string of words blocked everything Chi Fu wanted to say. Chi Fu stood there for a moment, then sheepishly went back to bed.
Yan Laixi looked extremely fatigued. Whatever the situation, he should let him sleep first.
Seeing Chi Fu’s ghost-struck expression, Yan Laixi knew the validity period had expired again.
He still had to confirm, though. He asked, “Do you remember me?”
“What happens if I don’t remember?” Chi Fu asked timidly. He seemed a little afraid of him? But that was normal, wasn’t it? After all, he was just a stranger who had suddenly appeared in his house.
For two whole weeks, a similar scene played out every day. He and Chi Fu were like actors in a comedy, constantly cycling through the steps of forgetting. Yan Laixi always thought he would get used to it, always felt he was already used to it, and that tomorrow wouldn’t be so painful. Yet, every time this step arrived the next day, his heart still ached.
He sighed and said, “Nothing will happen.”
“Did I owe you something in your past life? Or did you used to live in this house?”
This scene had never happened before, nor anything similar.
“Huh?” Even with his memory intact, Yan Laixi wasn’t Chi Fu’s mind reader and couldn’t always understand what strange notion he was having.
Chi Fu’s next words were so infuriating that they wiped away the last bit of sadness from being forgotten. This guy thought he was a ghost? What ghost wanders around in the middle of the day? Besides, wasn’t he terrified of ghosts? If he was scared, why was he talking instead of running away?
He took a deep breath, told himself that the person opposite him had a broken brain and needed tolerance, and then, just like the previous days, he went to retrieve the diary written in Chi Fu’s own hand and tossed it to him to read.
Yan Laixi sat back on the sofa, arms crossed, watching Chi Fu’s expression shift from confusion to surprise, and finally to embarrassment. He said irritably, “Afraid of ghosts, yet you managed to be in a Romantic Relationship with a ‘ghost’ for so many years. Your courage is truly commendable. Should I give you an award?”
“No, listen to me,” Chi Fu said, leaning closer with a playful smile. “From my perspective, I was just at home, and then someone suddenly appeared. The first reaction to a sudden appearance is inevitably to think it’s a ghost. I wasn’t saying you look like a ghost.”
That was true. To Chi Fu, what difference was there between him and a ghost who came to collect a debt from a past life? Someone who didn’t exist in his memory but had deep ties to him, appearing suddenly in his house, right beside him, without warning.
“Let’s sleep first,” Yan Laixi told Chi Fu.
“Huh?” Chi Fu asked. “Now?”
What else was there to do now? Study whether I’m human or ghost?
Yan Laixi didn’t say this aloud. He offered an excuse: “It’s a good chance to verify whether or not it’s completely unrelated to sleep.”
“Then you go wash up first. I’ll make a note.” Chi Fu shook the diary in his hand. “I’ll sleep once I’m done.”
Yan Laixi took it, placed it where it was most visible, and said, “Go to sleep. No need to write it down.”
“Why shouldn’t I write it down?”
Because this was the last attempt. Whether successful or not, it wouldn’t be a viable solution—a useless, final attempt.
Yan Laixi was destined not to be preserved in Chi Fu’s memory anymore. Therefore, the records about him, about their attempts to find a way to break the cycle of forgetting, no longer needed to be documented. The book’s only remaining value was to quickly inform Chi Fu of the current situation and serve as the most direct evidence to make Chi Fu believe him.
Perhaps one day, even Chi Fu’s words, “my body still remembers you,” would vanish. A few pages of paper might no longer convince him, or perhaps he wouldn’t accept it so quickly. At that point, the diary would become completely meaningless.
He shooed Chi Fu off to bed, then stood in front of the sink, looking at his reflection in the mirror. He thought, Chi Fu couldn’t be blamed; he really did look like a ghost.
His face was gaunt, his complexion dark, his hair dry and frizzy, completely lacking luster. His dark circles were so heavy he could almost compete with a panda for a job at the zoo.
He hadn’t slept a full night in two weeks. It was a miracle he hadn’t died of exhaustion.
He closed the curtains, turned off the living room light, and lay down on the sofa to wait.
Like a daily quest, he waited for Chi Fu to emerge from the bedroom to find him, then recited the prepared speech to send him back to sleep.
In that long string of words, apart from “I’m not sleeping in the room,” not a single sentence was true. Chi Fu wouldn’t be scared by him at all; he was surprised and confused every day, but never once was he afraid, nor did he ever show resistance. As for the blanket and pillow, he didn’t need them at all.
Yan Laixi felt he truly didn’t understand himself. If someone had told him this situation before Chi Fu lost his memory, he would have thought he’d spend twenty-four hours a day wanting to sleep for twenty-three and a half hours, using the remaining half hour for eating, drinking, and maintaining vital signs—in short, hiding in the Dream.
Just as he once thought lucid dreaming would grant him a perfect, complete dream, reality was always the exact opposite of what he expected. Forget hiding in the Dream; Yan Laixi didn’t dare to sleep at all now.
He was afraid of facing Chi Fu’s forgetting again after his separation from Feng Su. Even though the Chi Fu who woke up today would likely not forget who he was, Yan Laixi still didn’t dare to fall asleep.
Fortunately, he had discovered a pattern: when he reached a certain level of exhaustion, he would drift into a semi-conscious state—half-asleep, half-fainting—for a while. During these times, his memories of the Dream were extremely chaotic and vague. However, he woke up with a splitting headache every time, and it provided virtually no rest.
He couldn’t avoid being forgotten in reality, but escaping separation in the Dream was still something.
In fact, Yan Laixi felt that if he could suddenly fall seriously ill and pass out for several days and nights, that would be best, as the waking hours weren’t easy to endure either.
His brain felt like a rusted gear, unable to turn, leaving him unable to do anything. Empty, dark, quiet, solitary spaces were the perfect breeding ground for overthinking.
But today’s overthinking wasn’t entirely useless.
It was November 22nd, one month and five days until Chi Fu’s birthday. He had promised Chi Fu he would celebrate his birthday with him, even though the other party didn’t remember.
This month and five days—whether as a final attempt or a final lingering attachment—after fulfilling this last remaining promise, he would make a choice.
Chi Fu opened his eyes, got up, and opened the door. Someone was in the living room. Last night wasn’t a dream.
Today was probably the only time in the past half-month that he hadn’t woken up to find a stranger in his house. It seemed his amnesia was unrelated to sleep.
Yan Laixi was making breakfast. Hearing him come out, he looked back and said, “Go wash up. Food will be ready soon.”
It was as if he knew Chi Fu remembered, even though the diary hadn’t mentioned that they had previously tested whether sleep affected the forgetting.
Chi Fu suddenly wanted to tease him and said, “Who are you?”
Yan Laixi’s hand seemed to pause for a moment. He said coolly, “Stop playing around. You don’t make that face when you genuinely don’t remember me.”
His acting was easily exposed. Chi Fu first squeezed toothpaste, brushed his teeth, and walked over to Yan Laixi, only to be pushed away with a look of distaste.
“Then what expression do I make when I don’t remember?” he mumbled with the toothbrush still in his mouth. Yan Laixi ignored him, pointing toward the bathroom, telling him to rinse his mouth.
A simple breakfast of rice porridge and pickles, plus a fried egg for Chi Fu. Yan Laixi said he wasn’t used to eating oily food in the morning.
Chi Fu ate heartily. Although it was just a normal breakfast, Yan Laixi seemed to make it taste better than average. Yet, Yan Laixi, who had prepared the food, seemed to have no appetite.
He stirred the porridge with his spoon, taking a long time before finally taking a sip.
Chi Fu looked at the prominent wrist bone and tried to negotiate with him: “How about you sleep in the bedroom tonight after all? I’ll put the diary somewhere I can see it when I wake up…”
“No need,” Yan Laixi interrupted him. “…The diary is fine, though. Stick a hook behind the door, or just hang it on the doorknob before bed.”
“I’ll go do that in a bit,” Chi Fu said. Yan Laixi seemed unwilling to have his physical condition scrutinized, but he looked genuinely unhealthy. Chi Fu couldn’t help but ask, “Have you not been sleeping well these past few days? Why don’t you sleep again? It’s not like we have anything else to do.”
“No need,” Yan Laixi said. “I’m not tired.”
He certainly didn’t look untired.
Chi Fu continued to persuade him: “If you can’t sleep, just lie down with your eyes closed for a while. Your complexion is too poor right now…”
“I don’t want to sleep!” Yan Laixi suddenly raised his voice. After shouting the sentence, both of them froze, staring blankly at each other.
Yan Laixi had been too calm, causing Chi Fu to overlook a very important fact.
Unlike him, Yan Laixi remembered everything; he was the one being forgotten.
And Chi Fu had just deliberately pretended not to know him.
“I’m sorry.”
Two apologies were spoken simultaneously. Yan Laixi reacted first, explaining, “I didn’t control my emotions. It’s not your fault. I’m really fine. Don’t worry about me.”
“I’m sorry,” Chi Fu said. “I shouldn’t have pretended not to know you just now.”
Yan Laixi: “It’s fine. You barely know me anyway.”
The tone was calm, a simple statement of fact, but Chi Fu found it painful to hear.
“Could you give me some photos of you, please?” he asked Yan Laixi, explaining his intention. “I want to print them out and put them in the room, so at least…”
At least what? Just a few photos, a few pages of text—even after reading them, Yan Laixi would still be a stranger to him, just like now. But…
“At least I won’t look at you with that expression of not knowing you anymore.”
Yan Laixi calculated the time and got up from the sofa to make breakfast. Hearing the door behind him, he turned around. Even though he knew Chi Fu should remember him now, and even though those short ten minutes of memory made little practical difference, Yan Laixi still felt anxious.
Fortunately, he didn’t see that increasingly familiar expression.
“Go wash up. Food will be ready soon,” he told Chi Fu.
“Who are you?”
It wasn’t a joking tone. Two weeks had made Yan Laixi certain that Chi Fu still retained the small amount of memory from before sleep, meaning he was likely just playing around.
First came heartache, then anger, and finally, it all turned into a feeling of being wronged.
Yan Laixi could understand. Chi Fu didn’t know anything, and Yan Laixi was acting very calm, which was why the other party would tease him by asking that. But understanding and acceptance didn’t mean his heart was unmoved. He tried his best to keep his voice emotionless, saying, “Stop playing around. You don’t make that face when you genuinely don’t remember me.”
“Then what expression do I make when I don’t remember?”
Yan Laixi thought amnesia must be a wonderful thing. If he could also forget Chi Fu forgetting him, he would go up and slap him right now.
He didn’t want to answer the question, so he pointed to the bathroom and shooed him away.
Fortunately, Chi Fu wasn’t someone who liked to press for answers or wouldn’t give up until he got his way. He forgot the unanswered question after rinsing his mouth and washing his face.
Yan Laixi stirred the rice porridge in his bowl. He didn’t really feel like eating now, but Chi Fu seemed very concerned about his health, and if he didn’t eat, he would be questioned endlessly.
“How about you sleep in the bedroom tonight after all? I’ll put the diary somewhere I can see it when I wake up…”
Well, he would be worried about even if he ate. He interrupted Chi Fu to stop him from continuing, but the part about the diary was actually a good suggestion. He hadn’t thought of it before.
The topic wasn’t completely diverted, and Chi Fu asked if he wanted to sleep again. Yan Laixi said he wasn’t tired. He genuinely wasn’t very sleepy now. He had stayed up too much and could no longer feel tiredness, just exhaustion, and discomfort everywhere above his waist.
“If you can’t sleep, just lie down with your eyes closed for a while. Your complexion is too poor right now…”
“I don’t want to sleep!”
Yan Laixi felt irritated hearing this. He knew his complexion looked like a ghost’s, and he knew he needed a full night’s sleep and proper rest, but what could he do? The moment he closed his eyes, he would start worrying and fearing. It wasn’t like he wanted this.
The air suddenly froze. The living room was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. Yan Laixi realized he hadn’t controlled his emotions again and softened his tone to apologize to Chi Fu.
Unexpectedly, the exact same three words were spoken simultaneously by both of them, perfectly overlapping.
“I didn’t control my emotions. It’s not your fault. I’m really fine. Don’t worry about me,” Yan Laixi said, but Chi Fu apologized to him again.
“I shouldn’t have pretended not to know you just now.”
“It’s fine,” Yan Laixi said.
Even without pretending, he was just a person whose name and identity Chi Fu knew. Chi Fu didn’t even know his experiences or his story. Right now, he was less familiar to Chi Fu than a character in a game, and one of the rarely appearing characters at that.
“You barely know me anyway.”
Chi Fu asked him for photos, wanting to display them in the room. Yan Laixi initially wanted to refuse, but Chi Fu said that at least that way he wouldn’t look at him with that expression of not knowing him anymore.
Yan Laixi truly disliked that expression.
He told Chi Fu he would find time to print the photos and give them to him, viewing it as giving himself something to do.
Yan Laixi didn’t tell Chi Fu that if he just opened his phone’s photo album, he would find that it contained more photos of Yan Laixi than Yan Laixi’s own phone did.