Chapter 1657: Not Just One Ah Quan

Through the dim fog, as they approached the new memoir, it became clear that Ah Quan had chosen it carefully. It served as solid evidence that he was a good person.

The memoir depicted a seaside resort. Beyond the pristine buildings and sprawling green lawns lay a long, golden beach glimmering under the sun. Palm trees swayed gently in the breeze, and flocks of white seabirds soared across the blue sky, landing on the sand. Behind a few sunbathing tourists, the birds pecked around for food.

One of the tourists was even roped off with several loops, and beside them stood a sign, written messily: “Stay away.”

Without needing to ask, it was obvious—this was the trigger for the memory.

The memoir felt almost tranquil, as if time had slowed down in the sea breeze, with the sun’s warmth softening its edges. It stretched out lazily, basking in the moment. But to Ji Shanqing, whether it was a palace or a muddy field, it all looked the same. His expression remained indifferent.

He clearly only cared about Lin Sanjiu. After a quick glance at the resort, he turned back and called out, “Sis?”

Lin Sanjiu’s figure emerged from the swirling chaos, waving at him.

“Yu Yuan hasn’t come over yet,” Ji Shanqing said. Even when he was impatient, he remained gentle and good-natured in front of his Sis. “Wait here for me; I’ll go look for him. If we get separated, just call out a few times.”

With that, he took off running. The foggy chaos swallowed the resort almost immediately, obscuring it from view. Ji Shanqing kept walking, calling Yu Yuan’s name. The poor visibility must have made him impatient, as he pulled out a flashlight from somewhere.

“What’s the use of a flashlight?” Ah Quan muttered, watching Ji Shanqing from a magazine page on a fruit stand in the narrow alley of the urban memories.

Yes, he could see everything the group was doing. Lin Sanjiu didn’t realize she didn’t even need to write her message on paper. All she had to do was call him directly.

He had watched intently, worried, but Lin Sanjiu’s contradictory att.i.tude towards him, along with her a.n.a.lysis of pocket dimensions and warehouses, gradually won his approval.

“The light isn’t the point… wait, what?” Ah Quan’s usually half-closed eyes suddenly widened.

Ji Shanqing’s flashlight didn’t emit light; instead, it produced sound and symbols. When he held it up to his lips and shouted “Yu Yuan!” to his left, the voice seemed to walk out of the flashlight, leaving floating arrows in its wake.

“Wow, what a strange gadget.” Ah Quan leaned back, sipping his tea. “It’s perfect for this scene.”

When no one was triggering the pocket dimension, Ah Quan was left alone, guarding the memory-filled warehouse. He’d spent ten years in complete solitude, talking loudly to himself out of habit.

Meanwhile, Ji Shanqing kept shouting in all directions, using the flashlight. Each time, the sound traveled like light, leaving lines of arrows pointing the way. He didn’t have to wander lost in the chaos.

The method worked well. Within a few minutes, another voice, more immersed than anyone else, called out from a distance, “I’m here! Did you see the new memory piece?”

Following one of the arrow trails, Yu Yuan appeared. Ji Shanqing waved him over and said, “Found it. Looks like a seaside resort.”

He put the flashlight away. “Sis is waiting at the edge, this way. Where are you headed?” The young man, covered in tattoos and looking fierce at first glance, turned around, confused, and followed Ji Shanqing. When the two of them met up with Lin Sanjiu at the edge of the memory, the three exchanged a look. Finally, as if gathering her resolve, Lin Sanjiu took the first step forward.

“There’s no need to be so cautious. The memoir covers a large area, with complete facilities. Overall, it’s peaceful and safe. Ah Quan even visits sometimes, pretending he’s on vacation.”

“Okay!” Ji Shanqing called out, being the last one to speak. “It’s time for the most important step.”

The other two turned to look at him.

“Let’s hope this method works,” Ji Shanqing said, lowering his voice. Ah Quan zoomed in on the magazine’s picture—this way, even if they whispered, he could still hear them. He felt a bit like a stalker but couldn’t think of a better way.

“If we can still track our position relative to other memoirs after leaving, then that… um, tool should come in handy,” Ji Shanqing said, glancing at the others with a smile.

Despite his carefree appearance, he had plenty of tricks up his sleeve.

Ah Quan watched nervously as Ji Shanqing pulled out several small black boxes. Were they signal transmitters? He couldn’t see how knowing the locations of other memoirs would help. After all, they couldn’t control the position of their own memoir.

He glanced at Lin Sanjiu, who was already standing in the seaside resort. A vague thought bubbled up in his mind, but he couldn’t quite grasp it.

Besides, signal transmission was completely ineffective in the memoir warehouse. Once two memoirs were separated, any signal sent out would be swallowed by the gray fog. In fact, anything that left a memoir and fell into the fog would disappear, and even Ah Quan didn’t know where it went.

So when Lin Sanjiu performed her gray fog splits earlier, it had frightened him into a cold sweat.

Not that he could break into a cold sweat anymore—those sensations were long gone. But he liked to imagine he could still feel thirst, heat, and sweat, as if he still had a human body.

“Put one on either side,” Ji Shanqing said, stepping over the boundary line to hand a box to Lin Sanjiu. “Yu Yuan,” he called to the tattooed man still standing in the blank memoir, handing him the last box. “Place this one a bit further away. It’s not safe near the edge. If it falls during the transition, it could get lost. But don’t go too far.”

Yu Yuan silently took the black box and left. Ji Shanqing stayed by Lin Sanjiu’s side, standing at the edge of the resort, waiting for him to return.

Ah Quan followed Yu Yuan with his eyes, noting exactly where he placed the box, then watched him run back to the resort. As soon as all three of them were inside, Ah Quan quickly separated the two memoirs.

He watched the resort drift away, with Lin Sanjiu and the others inside, before it turned into an isolated island disconnected from the other memoirs. He let out a guilty sigh.

He knew Lin Sanjiu and her group must have had a plan, but he never understood the specifics. Their communication was seamless—they barely needed words. One would start a sentence, and the others would nod, already antic.i.p.ating the next step. It left Ah Quan in the dark.

Now he had a hunch about their plan: they wanted to map out the geographical locations of the memoirs. So, what would they ask for next? Would they claim to be unsatisfied with the resort and request another switch? After all, the more locations they could pinpoint, the better.

Regardless of what they asked for, Ah Quan had made up his mind. He wasn’t going to switch memoirs for them again.