Fu Tingzhou, "Any news about his family?"
"He has a sister named Xu Nian, who became ill two years ago. After being discharged from the hospital, she was involved in a negligent injury case and was sentenced to three years in prison. She is now undergoing reform in An City Women’s Prison."
Fu Tingzhou slightly furrowed his brow, "Keep an eye on this Xu Nian for me."
Fu Tingzhou raised his hand to rub his temples. He was somewhat fatigued after a two-hour video conference; his head was beginning to ache. The man stood up to stretch his shoulders and neck, preparing to continue working, and noticed Shen Duan was still there. He asked, "Is there anything else?"
"The old Traditional Chinese Medicine practitioner you consulted before will be seeing patients tomorrow afternoon. If you have time, he asked you to come by for acupuncture treatment."
Fu Tingzhou had received treatment from the old practitioner of Chinese medicine several times already, although the effects were mediocre. However, recovery from memory loss is not an overnight matter, and he thought the old doctor was quite right about something—his amnesia might not be related to the car accident.
The next morning, around nine o’clock, Fu Tingzhou arrived at the beach food district with Gao Chengxiong. Construction had already begun, with roughly a hundred shops opening, roads being renovated, and storefronts being refurbished. A hundred shop leases had just been released and were all reserved by now.
Gao Chengxiong remarked, "On the other side is the leisure amusement city, only a ten-minute drive from the resort hotel, and the roads are wide."
After taking care of things here, Fu Tingzhou visited the Chinese Medicine Hall in the old alley.
The old practitioner, as usual, simply asked about his recent condition. Fu Tingzhou mentioned that he had been having frequent dreams recently, making it hard to fall asleep. Every night, he would still dream of that woman, but he could not see her face nor hear her voice.
The old practitioner performed a heat compress and acupuncture on him.
"Given your condition, perhaps you should visit a neurology department in the hospital for an evaluation. Suffering from mental fatigue and difficulty sleeping, if prolonged, can cause significant harm to your body," the old doctor suggested.
Fu Tingzhou replied indifferently, "Don’t you prescribe medicine here?"
The old practitioner chuckled, "Combining traditional Chinese and Western medicine brings better results."
As Fu Tingzhou was about to leave, he inquired, "If my amnesia wasn’t caused by a car accident, what other human interventions could there be?"
"Your case is rare, but I’ve seen it before. I haven’t definitively stated that your amnesia wasn’t caused by a car accident because we currently don’t have such advanced technology that can directly determine the cause of amnesia. I’m just an old doctor. I treat headaches and fevers, and even complex illnesses. But amnesia is different—no one can guarantee with absolute certainty that after taking a few doses of medicine, you would recover your memory at an exact date and time," explained the old practitioner, picking up his pipe and taking a puff. "Sometimes, amnesia isn’t a bad thing. Forgetting some painful memories, the ones you don’t wish to relive, can also be a form of relief... There was a woman before, a doctor from a big hospital, who came to me specifically to inquire about how to induce amnesia... She wanted to forget certain things desperately, but couldn’t..."
Fu Tingzhou’s expression was stern and so was his voice, "Everyone’s choice is different. I am not willing to live with a blank memory."
After his response, he left the Chinese Medicine Hall. Driving along, he suddenly floored the gas pedal as he passed by a pastry shop.
He stepped out of the car and pushed open the door to enter.
It was around 12 noon, the peak lunch hour, yet only a shop assistant was present. She promptly approached him, "What would you like? Are you looking to gift someone? Our shop offers gift boxes and delivery services as well."
"Do you have osmanthus cake here?" The man glanced over the counter.
The shop assistant blushed at the sight of Fu Tingzhou’s handsome features and hurriedly responded, "Yes, we have it, but it’s still being prepared in the kitchen. It will be ready in about five minutes. Please, wait a moment."
He didn’t know why, but suddenly the thought of osmanthus cake came to his mind.
It seemed like in the past, that woman liked to eat it, a thought that spontaneously occurred to him.
The shop assistant soon packed the osmanthus cake and handed it to him. Fu Tingzhou got back into his car and opened the packaging. He tasted a piece; it was soft, sweet, and fragrant upon entry. He was not particularly fond of sweets, and when it came to food, he had no specific cravings. He felt that food was merely meant to satisfy hunger, and he never had any particular desires for clothing, food, or other necessities.
In the past, he studied abroad, leaving his family behind to strive for success from the bottom up.
He would stretch a pack of instant noodles over two days.
Now, having a bite of the osmanthus cake, he felt an indescribable sense of familiarity.
This flavor, it was familiar.
He had tasted it before.
In the four years since he lost his memory, fragments of past events would sporadically surface in his mind, each a point of recollection.
Fu Tingzhou opened the memo app on his phone and recorded three words, "osmanthus cake."
In the memo, he had noted down many things.
"Tomato and egg noodles."
"White jade pendant."
"She likes her sugar three parts."
Fu Tingzhou had captured any fragmentary memories that suddenly came to him over the years, afraid he might forget them once more.
Forgetting a person is a terrible ordeal.
Especially when others still remember you, yet you alone have forgotten. A man’s pride and assertive character do not allow him to be a blank slate in front of acquaintances; he detests those inquisitive looks tinged with a hint of pity.
He must remember who that woman was.
Why could he vaguely outline everything else, yet when it came to that woman, his memory was utterly blank?
Tang Xi was at the clinic this afternoon.
She glanced at the computer system; it hadn’t been busy all morning, with only seven patients booked.
And one appointment had been made for the afternoon.
This truly was a remote community hospital; had it been the North City Clinic, the threshold would have been worn down by now.
Tang Xi made a call to Wen Ruomian, who said the clinic was swamped with patients, with the waiting area filled up as soon as the afternoon shift began. She had just taken a sip of water and a break to grumble to Tang Xi.
Here, however, was eerily quiet for Tang Xi.
As they were talking, a patient arrived at Tang Xi’s end, and she spoke into the phone, "Gotta go, I have a patient here. Dr. Tang is about to start seeing patients."
If not for opening up, her performance for the month would be pitiful, barely scraping by on her base salary.
Tang Xi took out a pair of old-fashioned black-framed glasses from the drawer, put them on, and then adjusted her hair to ensure she looked more composed, in line with the local patients’ expectations of a doctor’s appearance.
With only one appointment, Tang Xi didn’t need to call out for patients. Hearing a knock at the door, she immediately said, "Come in."
A man dressed in casual black entered the room.
Wearing her glasses today, Tang Xi had a clearer view than ever of the visitor.
She was taken aback for a moment.
Then, frowning, she asked, "Fu Tingzhou, what brings you here?"
The man strode forward with long legs, hooked a stool with one foot to sit down, and semi-threw, semi-handed over his patient card to her. Scanning her briefly, he uttered two words, "Seeing the doctor."