Memories?

"Haha, Xiao Ying, come here! The neighbor's kitten just wandered into our house."

"Mom... it was only attracted by the jerky we brought..."

"Huh? I thought it came because it liked us."

Watching the happy mother and son on the television, Mo Bai glanced beside him.

Christopher was still sitting obediently on the stool to his right, smiling at the screen.

He seemed like the kind of audience member an obscure film director would love.

No matter how good or bad a film's visuals or story were, this guy would probably sit through the whole thing without complaint.

To those directors, he would at least help fill the seats.

An unknown film didn't need sincere criticism so much as it needed an audience.

But Mo Bai wasn't a director or a writer. To him, this guy was just a repulsive Society Overseer of the Remnant Star Society.

The problem was that a man had suddenly appeared to his left...

"That's your mother for you. She's getting on in years, but she still acts like a child."

The man was watching the television with Mo Bai and Christopher.

Any normal person would find it deeply unsettling if a grown man appeared beside him uninvited.

But Mo Bai didn't.

Because he knew this man.

The hunched, somewhat worn-down middle-aged man sitting on the sofa was his father.

Mo Bai didn't answer him. Instead, he looked at Christopher on his right.

Christopher merely closed his eyes and smiled at him. That was all.

There was no need to think about it. This "father" beside him was another product of Christopher's ability.

Changing the world at will by writing things into a script sounded almost like the work of a creator.

But a true creator probably wouldn't have the same twisted sense of humor