In a sense, the Doctor and I were kindred spirits.
He had forgotten his own name. More precisely, he had forgotten who he was.
As for me, part of my memories had been erased. I meant the memories of this life. As for my previous life, although I was also very curious about what extraordinary memories I might have had, that was all in the past. I had always regarded myself as an ordinary person. I was me. I was Jiang Xiaobai.
Still, being unable to find some memories from this life filled me with regret.
In fact, people had always faced a philosophical question.
Who are you, where did you come from, and where are you going?
I guessed that the overwhelming majority of people could not answer that question.
The one person I thought had a clear understanding of it was Tang Sanzang. The moment he opened his mouth, he made everything crystal clear: "This humble monk is Tang Sanzang, from the Great Tang of the Eastern Lands, bound for the Western Heaven in search of Buddhist scriptures!"
"Tell me, does it matter who I am?" the Doctor suddenly asked me.
I froze for a moment. Did it matter? Perhaps it did. I nodded.
The Doctor asked again, "Look, although I don't know who I am now, I know what I am doing and why I am doing it. I have a clear sense of right and wrong, and I believe I can do whatever I set out to do well. Now let me ask you again: does it matter who I am?"
When he put it that way, I felt that since he had such a clear understanding, knew right from wrong, and could do what needed to be done well, who he was did not seem