The Wind Pavilion Pact

I can see the emotional colors above everyone's head—dark red for fear, gray-blue for sadness, bright gold for happiness. The Wind Pavilion is no ordinary teahouse; here, human nature is traded. A man wants to exchange 'the memory of osmanthus fragrance' for forgetting his cheating wife, at the cost of three months of taste. I refused. The ledger burns, punishment descends—tonight at midnight, forget the color of my mother's eyes. My name is Lin Yan, the 37th proprietor. My memory system can be taken, but my principles, you cannot change. Later, a forensic doctor pushes open the door of the Wind Pavilion. Red marks appear on her palm, and a thought arises in her mind: 'not my own.'