The rain that had come as suddenly as it pleased left just as abruptly.
Sunlight pierced through the clouds.
The surface of puddles in the hollows shimmered with rippling light.
Qi Zhimu folded the oil-paper umbrella, gently flicked off the water droplets, took off his mud-stained shoes, and changed into a clean pair of sandals.
“Go dry your clothes quickly.” “Okay.” Having come to treat her mother on rainy days before, Clarisse changed her shoes and walked into the bamboo house with practiced ease, activating the special “dryer” placed in a fixed area.
It was said that Mr.
Qi had tinkered it together in his spare time.
Too lazy to name it, he simply called it a dryer.
Warm air seeped into her clothes and dress, circulating along her skin, carrying away the moisture the rain had left behind, forming a faint, barely perceptible mist.
On the other side, Qi Zhimu casually changed into another set of clothes, habitually put on his white coat, and walked into the treatment room.
The session was nearing its end.
The girl’s lively figure came to a stop beside Qi Zhimu.
She looked toward her loved one inside the treatment pod, her fingers unconsciously intertwining in a prayer posture.
“Don’t worry.
Everything is normal.” When the treatment session countdown reached zero, the medical pod door automatically opened.
Durand slowly opened her eyes.
Taking in the familiar and unfamiliar faces, the daze in her eyes lessened slightly.
“…Clarisse…
and this gentleman…” “Mother!” Clarisse carefully helped Durand up and embraced her mother excitedly.
But she quickly regained her senses, her small face filled with shock.
“Mother, you…
you don’t remember Mr.
Qi?” “Mr.
Qi, Mr.
Qi…” Durand searched her memory carefully, saying uncertainly, “…the doctor who treats me?” Seeing this, a flicker of gravity passed through Qi Zhimu’s eyes.
He met the girl’s slightly panicked gaze and gave her a subtle look.
“Ms.
Durand, please allow me to examine the current state of your brain.” “Alright.” Attaching the relevant instrument electrodes to Durand’s head, Qi Zhimu started the examination procedure.
Countless pieces of information that Clarisse couldn’t understand appeared on the display screen.
Qi Zhimu didn’t miss a single punctuation mark, taking it all in.
A few minutes later, he turned off the instrument and removed the electrodes.
“Ms.
Durand’s current condition has some minor unexpected developments, but it is still within manageable limits.
Please rest assured.
In two months, your amnesia will definitely be completely cured.” “Oh, alright.
Thank you for your trouble.” Although Durand couldn’t remember Qi Zhimu, she could feel the goodwill he extended.
“You may go home now.
Return for your next treatment session in approximately twenty-four days.” Durand had no particular reaction to the number twenty-four.
Clarisse, however, was different.
Seeing her mother’s reaction, worry flashed across her face.
This was the first time, after treatment, that her mother had forgotten the interval between sessions.
And the time needed until the next treatment had shortened again — by several days…
One day, eventually, it would reach the severe stage where even daily treatments would be futile.
By then — Even she herself might be forgotten by her mother.
When a person completely loses their memory, even if they are still alive, it is no different from being gone.
“Life is a winding labyrinth.
Apart from memories, we have nothing.” Recalling the words her mother had once spoken to her, Clarisse felt she somewhat understood their meaning.
After the mother and daughter departed, Qi Zhimu imported the treatment session data into the recording terminal and began further analysis.
Generally speaking, even in worlds with relatively advanced medical technology, Ailments related to memory had always been a difficult problem.
Take the people of the Xianzhou, for example.
The specific reasons for their descent into mara were deeply connected to memory.
Those who fell into mara had their senses turned upside down, their human relationships utterly lost.
His teacher had once researched how to cure mara, but he didn’t know whether that research topic had been successfully resolved.
The Xianzhou native who had volunteered as the research and experimental subject was also taken away one day by a starship.
Success or failure, alive or dead — Qi Zhimu, only twenty-two years old at the time, likewise didn’t know.
But after that, Ruan Mei added a new subject related to memory to his studies.
Thanks to his long immersion in the study of memory, he now possessed the ability to treat Durand’s amnesia.
So far, none of the symptoms had exceeded expectations.
That was good.
Qi Zhimu had the confidence — and certainly would — fulfill the promise he had made to little Clarisse.
He couldn’t recall exactly when he had started valuing promises so heavily.
Sometimes, even he himself didn’t understand why he devoted so much energy to promises that were clearly spoken casually by the other party.
Many years ago, Yu Qingtu had once said to him — “If you can make pastries that satisfy me, I’ll unconditionally help you with one thing and solve one problem for your teacher.” “But since I admire Ruan Mei so much, even if you can’t do it, I’ll still help her.” Qi Zhimu, of course, made a solemn promise, determined not to disappoint her expectations.
He remembered the look Yu Qingtu had given him that day — her eyes filled with strong astonishment.
The implication was clear: a genius like her was only casually joking.
She had never expected the young man before her to agree.
Otherwise, she wouldn’t have added the second sentence as a way down.
After collecting herself, Yu Qingtu curved her lips slightly, a glimmer of interest and faint expectation appearing in her eyes.
It took a full seven years for Qi Zhimu to successfully develop a miraculous flavor essence.
Added to pastries, it would automatically cater to the eater’s preferences, becoming their most favored taste.
In a sense, it was a bit of a shortcut.
But nevertheless, it earned Yu Qingtu’s recognition.
From then on, every time Yu Qingtu came to visit Ruan Mei, Qi Zhimu would make an extra portion of pastries.
At first, he used that flavor essence.
But as time gradually lengthened, he never used it again.
“Ms.
Durand’s amnesia is not caused by brain injury or a specific disease…” “It’s not the same type as Alzheimer’s disease, which was already conquered long ago…
I can be one hundred percent certain of this.” “Therefore, stem cell transplantation cannot be used.” “Using CRISPR-dCas9 technology to remove DNA methylation markers, reactivate memory-related genes, supplemented with a CCKBR receptor modulator…” Qi Zhimu opened the storage cabinet and took down a special medicine from a shelf enveloped in cold air.
This was the CCKBR receptor modulator.
Strictly speaking, it had no direct effect on Durand’s amnesia.
It was used as an auxiliary agent — for prevention.
If the treatment process caused nerve damage to the patient’s brain, the CCKBR receptor modulator would immediately take effect.
To cure Durand’s amnesia, the main solution still relied on the fruit of his many years of research on this subject — Memory decoding and refilling.
Using an implantable device to simulate hippocampal function and replicate memory-related neural signals.
Capture and amplify residual electrical signals in the hippocampus, then digitize the patient’s memories and return them via BCI.
“…Sigh.
If I were a Memokeeper of the Garden of Recollection, perhaps there would be simpler means…” Unfortunately, he had not embarked on the Path of Remembrance.
He could only rely on himself.
Currently, this research was nearing its end.
Only the final step remained: clinical trials.
Qi Zhimu drank the receptor modulator, preparing to personally verify the treatment’s efficacy.