"Ding Dong..."

The slightly hazy moon hangs in the night,

Through the window that opened half of the curtains, some cold moonlight reflected under the window.

The night filled the window and wanted to spread into the house, but the lights in the living room barely illuminated the room.

The night just wanders outside the window.

The phone sitting in the living room is still on the screen, and the message prompts from the communication software have slowed down a little.

There were still TV series on the TV set beside the wall. The light reflected from the screen changed on the other side of the living room, and some dull sounds were heard from the thick shell.

Had supper at the old man downstairs,

Chen Lun returned to the house again, raised his head, looked into the house, reached out and closed the living room door again,

Walked into the kitchen.

It was just that the kitchen, which reflected some lights in the living room, was filled with some rice cookers, because there was no window in the kitchen, and some heat accumulated,

The whole room was filled with the aroma of cooked rice.

Extend your hand and turn off the insulation of the rice cooker.

He raised his hand again and pressed the old range hood on the stove.

I unscrewed the fire from the kitchen gas stove and took the wok leaning against the wall.

The TV set on the other side of the living room was a distance, and the sound coming seemed to be a little far away.

In a quiet kitchen, the rice cooker turned off and the sound of the range hood fan turning on and the crackling sound of the gas stove ignition that was covered up, and the crackling sound of the gas stove ignition was heard one after another.

I picked up the bottled oil on the desk and then picked up the spatula.

They picked up the cut meat on the table and cut vegetables in turn.

Although I had eaten the meal, Chen Lun still stir-fry this dish.

In the kitchen, the fire from the gas stove burned the wok.

The sound of stir-frying vegetables, the sound of the spatula hitting the wok kept ringing.

The old, overwhelmed range hood is still whistling, like a heavy breathing,

From time to time, some noises are still being made.

Added salt and tasted, Chen Lun looked in the pot, and fryed it with a spatula for a few times.

Finally, put the chopped peppers into the pot.

Chen Lun likes to eat slightly spicy foods.

...

Turn off the range hood, the heavy breathing sound gradually stopped.

Holding a spatula, shoveling the fried dishes in the pot into the plate little by little.

Seriously, no more left in the pot.

Chen Lun took the wok to the faucet of the dishwasher and rinsed it clean, put it back on the desk and leaned against the wall.

The fire on the gas stove was not turned off yet, and flames were still rushing upwards. There was some fire on Chen Lun's face in front of the desk.

Carrying the dish, Chen Lun took a pair of chopsticks and walked out of the kitchen.

I arrived at the coffee table in the living room, took the chopsticks, just took a bite, put down the chopsticks, lowered my head, and looked at the coffee table.

On the coffee table, there is a remote control with some grays.

There was a pen with half ink, two vertically lined up and down toward the notebooks with the same cover.

Looking at Chen Lun stretched out his hand and opened the first page of the notebook above.

“…Tuesday, light rain.

The weather was a little cold, so I put on another coat and went out."

Under the cover page, the first page is written in some pretty clear handwriting.

This is Chen Lun’s diary last year.

Looking at Chen Lun's eyes moved down a little, his fingers moved, and he opened the same notebook below.

“…Tuesday, Xiaoyu…”

Under the cover page, there are the same handwriting as on the notebook above.

The same thing, the same punctuation, the same empty lines,

The gaps between words and sentences are the same, the style of handwriting is the same, and the habits of handwriting are the same.

Watching, pausing,

Chen Lun lowered his body, lowered his head, and tugged his fingers,

Then turn the two diarys over the same number of pages.

“…It rained on Monday.

I didn’t bring an access control when I went out, but it didn’t have any impact. The southwest gate was never closed anyway.”

On the pages of the upper and lower diary,

It is still the same handwriting, the same text, and the gap between the handwriting is the same.

It seems to be two identical notebooks.

Chen Lun looked and paused his eyes.

But after all, there are still some differences, in the tip of the same character, in the subtle points.

Memory continues to dissipate.

Watching, Chen Lun paused again,

He reached out and closed the diary below.

Pick up the diary above,

I walked into the kitchen, and there was only that diary left on the coffee table.

...

In the kitchen, the fire on the gas stove is still burning, and the fire is reflected in the kitchen, emitting some burning temperature.

Holding the diary, the pages of the diary spread a little to both sides in his hands.

Put it on the burning gas stove, the moving flames quickly ignited the diary, and the flames rushed onto the diary.

He reached out and turned off the fire on the gas stove.

Carrying the burning diary, I walked back to the living room.

Standing by the living room wall, waiting for the diary in your hand to burn fully,

He threw it into the clean iron basin placed beside the living room wall.

The diary was burning in the iron basin, and the fire was moving better than the lights in the house, reflected on Chen Lun's face standing in front of the iron basin.

With a calm face, Chen Lun stood, watching the diary in the iron basin igniting little by little.

He came to this world,

It's only less than a month,

In the past, he didn't call Chen Lun, but now he called him.

In the past, he was just a psychiatrist and a person with a little psychological problem.

Until twenty-three days ago, he woke up from the bedroom bed of the house,

He is now Chen Lun, a junior student in the Department of Psychology, School of Medicine, Capital University.

only,

When he just woke up, he still had the memory of the original owner.

But as time goes by, the original owner's memory is like a dream that he had last night. After waking up, it gradually faded away and finally turned into some vague symbolic emotions and symbols.

But his original memory has always been in his mind.

And for him,

There is a clear sense of alienation, and there is no sense of belonging in the heart during self-analysis.

Not only at the psychological level, but also at the physical level,

He looked at the world as if he was lying on a transparent glass, looking at the outside world,

Although clear, it is not true.

It was like a layer of transparent film that was invisible and intangible, which isolated him from this world.
To be continued...