Fang Mo lifted his tea, blew away the floating foam, and took a small sip.
"What riddle are you speaking in now? Who is it? Someone I know?"
Yue Jian also lifted his tea, but merely held the cup without drinking. He grinned at Fang Mo. "Of course. You definitely know her—know her better than anyone. Otherwise, why would I tell you?"
"Who is it?"
Something stirred faintly in Fang Mo's heart. In the depths of his mind, he seemed to already know who it was, but he pretended not to have guessed and asked casually.
"Qin Muxue!" Yue Jian lowered his voice. A barely perceptible smile hung on his face, but his eyes were fixed tightly on Fang Mo's expression, as though he wanted to catch even the slightest reaction.
However, he was disappointed. Fang Mo did not so much as flicker an eyelid.
The former Fang Mo had long ceased to exist; even his last shred of will had dispersed.
The Fang Mo of today was entirely the soul of Fang Mo who had transmigrated here. There was simply no way he would feel the slightest ripple.
The person before you was merely someone who had once known you. If not for the final remnant of the original Fang Mo's will, grass would already have grown several feet high over Qin Muxue's grave.
"You're not curious?" Yue Jian looked at Fang Mo in confusion.
"Do I need to be?" Fang Mo raised his eyes to look at him, his gaze as still as an ancient well without a ripple.
"Something's wrong!" Yue Jian waved a hand before Fang Mo's eyes and exclaimed in surprise, "Have you really forgotten everything? Back then, you chased after her as though you would die for her. How long has it even been?