Chapter 1659: Under the Cover of Sound

Upon seeing her, Ah Quan was so startled that he jumped up from his chair.

In his haste, a splash flew from the teacup he held, filled to the brim—not with tea, but with a different, misty liquid. It resembled slowly flowing silk, s.h.i.+mmering with a faint, ethereal glow.

When Ah Quan realized what had spilled, his gasp turned into a cry of alarm. In that instant, Lin Sanjiu understood what the liquid was.

“No, that’s—”

Ah Quan’s face twisted in fear, looking drained of all color. The shock was too much. In his frantic attempt to catch the falling liquid, he stumbled, knocking over a pile of items, and fell to the ground.

He barely lifted his head from behind the cluttered fruit stand before shouting, “Her memories!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lin Sanjiu said, equally startled. “It didn’t spill on the ground. I caught it in time.”

Ah Quan peered out from behind the stand, looking confused. “C-caught?”

“Look.” Lin Sanjiu gestured, and the bundle of Higher Consciousness containing the memories floated before Ah Quan at her command. “This is my Higher Consciousness. I wrapped it up, so it wouldn’t spill.”

The memory fluid looked like silk worn thin by time. Under the transparent wrapping of the Higher Consciousness, it rippled with a soft, glowing sheen.

Yu Yuan, standing nearby, stared at the bundle of memories. “This form of data representation is rare. I’d like to know how it maintains content and chronological logic—”

Ji Shanqing smacked him. “Not the time.”

Ah Quan blinked, taking a deep breath as he slowly calmed down.

Wanting to make amends for the scare, Lin Sanjiu carefully picked up his fallen teacup. She made a small opening in the bundle of Higher Consciousness, letting the liquid memories flow back into the cup like water, filling it with a s.h.i.+mmering brew.

“Here you go,” she said gently, as if coaxing a child. “It’s all intact, see? It even s.h.i.+nes.”

Ah Quan took the cup cautiously, glancing at it with suspicion. “I’ll have to pour it into a container and form a memoir to check if it’s… um, damaged.”

“Go ahead, take your time,” Lin Sanjiu said. “We’ll wait right here.”

Holding the teacup and clutching a magazine that had somehow appeared under his arm, Ah Quan took a few steps away. Then, unable to resist, he turned back for one last look.

“How did you get here?” Ah Quan looked utterly perplexed, clearly not expecting their arrival. “The memoir containing your memories was placed in a secluded corner, far away from everything. How did you find me through all the fog?”

Lin Sanjiu decided not to brag about how well her plan had worked and simply rea.s.sured him that they’d explain it later.

After about ten minutes, Ah Quan emerged from the bustling alley, looking as though he’d been deep in thought. As soon as he saw them, he asked, “Was the key point that chaotic memoir you found? After all, it’s the only one that’s ever been adjacent to my urban memoirs.”

Since he didn’t mention any issues with the spilled memories, Lin Sanjiu felt relieved.

“But I still don’t understand,” Ah Quan continued, crossing his arms. “I clearly saw you cross the boundary and enter another memoir. I could see every move you made and hear every word you spoke. I was paying close attention back then…”

Despite his confusion, he didn’t seem upset that they had returned. In fact, he appeared almost pleased.

Lin Sanjiu couldn’t help but smile.

“It’s a long story,” she said, gesturing to the stools inside the fruit stand with a laugh. “Let’s sit down and talk.”

Ah Quan had never expected to host guests, so there weren’t enough chairs. Lin Sanjiu opened her card inventory and pulled out two folding chairs. Only then did the four people—if you could call them that—squeeze together and sit down in front of the fruit stand.

As Yu Yuan and Ji Shanqing settled into the chairs, Ah Quan tilted his head, his eyes lingering on the folding chairs for a few moments. Even such ordinary, mundane items seemed memorable to him because they hadn’t appeared in his previous experiences.

“I didn’t realize you could see everything, but we accounted for the worst-case scenario during the plan,” Lin Sanjiu said with a smile. She took an empty bag from her card inventory and handed it to Ah Quan. “Consider this my apology.”

“What’s this?”

“I once visited a mushroom world where most of the resources come from different types of mushrooms,” she explained, watching Ah Quan’s amazement at the soft yet st.u.r.dy bag. “I don’t even remember when I stored this. In their world, there’s no plastic or pollution, so even bags are novel—they have air holes yet are incredibly strong. I thought you might appreciate something new.”

Ah Quan carefully folded the bag a few times; even though it was just an empty mushroom-skin bag, he handled it with great care.

“Just like this bag, we know about many novel things you’ve probably never seen,” Lin Sanjiu said, turning to Yu Yuan and Ji Shanqing. “Honestly, without them, I wouldn’t have been able to deceive you. They provided me with two crucial items that allowed us to slip back into the urban memoirs right under your nose.”

Ah Quan didn’t seem upset about being tricked. Instead, he scooted his stool closer, as if he were eager to hear the rest of the story.

“But I never overheard you discussing any plan,” he insisted. “I was listening closely.”

“That’s because we didn’t need to speak,” Lin Sanjiu said. “Do you remember when I held up the paper to make a request? When I didn’t hear your response, the three of us huddled together to talk, right?”

“Yes, everything sounded normal.”

“But you never questioned why we needed to stand in a circle when n.o.body else was there,” Lin Sanjiu said, smiling. “We formed a circle to block our faces from view so you couldn’t see our lips. We were communicating two kinds of information: one was spoken aloud for you to hear, and the other was silent lip-reading.”