Chapter 181: Memory Wipe

The beeping was the first thing she heard and it felt like a needle poking at her brain.

Am I back in the cafe? she thought, her mind a foggy mess of static. Did the robber miss?

But as the fog cleared, the memories hit her like a freight train. The botanical garden. The gunmen. The searing heat in her chest. The little girl, Zhēnscreaming , for her. And then… the forest. The Goddess with the starlight robes. The choice.

Wait, Bai Yue’s internal monologue kicked into high gear. Why do I…..

Wait.

I remember.

Her eyes snapped open.

The light was blinding. A man in a lab coat was standing over her, his jaw dropped so low it looked like it might unhinge. Beside him, a nurse dropped a tray of medical instruments with a deafening clatter.

“She’s… she’s back,” the nurse whispered, her voice trembling. “Doctor, the monitor flatlined for four minutes. Her heart was gone.”

“Impossible,” the doctor muttered, frantically checking her pupils with a penlight. “Miss Bai Yue? Can you hear me? You’re in the ICU. You were shot, you lost a significant amount of blood, and your heart stopped on the way into surgery. You……you shouldn’t be awake.”

Great, Bai Yue thought, her eyes darting around the room.

“I’m… thirsty,” she croaked before her mind wandered to the three men. She remembered everything now. Or somehow…..

It made no sense to her. How was she mated to them? How did…..

Focus Bai Yue.

The doctor didn’t answer. He was too busy staring at the heart monitor, which was now thumping away with a steady, strong rhythm, as if her heart were trying to make up for lost time.

“I’ll get the lead surgeon,” the doctor said, sounding like he was having a minor breakdown. “This… this is a physiological anomaly.”

The door to the ICU suite burst open before the doctor could even reach it.

Bai Yue winced at the noise, but then her breath caught. It wasn’t the police or more doctors.

It was them.

Han Shān, Zhāo Yàn, and Yàn Shū looked like they had been through a war. Han Shān’s charcoal suit was stained with dark blood, her blood. Zhāo Yàn was still shirtless, his chest smeared with grime, a temporary bandage wrapped around his knuckles. Yàn Shū looked the worst, his corduroy blazer was torn, his glasses were crooked, and his eyes were so bloodshot he looked like he hadn’t blinked in a decade.

And in front of them, trailing behind like a frantic little shadow, was

“Bai Yue!”

The little girl didn’t care about the IV drips or the monitors. She launched herself at the bed, her small hands gripping the railing before she scrambled up onto the mattress. She buried her face in Bai Yue’s neck, sobbing so hard her entire body shook.

“You’re alive! You came back! Don’t go away again!”

Zhēn’s small, shaking frame was a heavy weight against her good shoulder, but Bai Yue didn’t mind. She breathed in the scent of the little girl, lilies and a hint of the hospital’s sterile soap, and felt a surge of protectiveness.

My daughter, she thought, the realization settling in her mind. Not just a girl I nanny. She’s mine. I gave birth to her in a cave while a blizzard howled outside. How is that even biologically possible? I’m twenty-four! She’s six! The math doesn’t math in this world!

She looked up over Zhēn’s d hair, her eyes searching for the three men standing at the foot of the bed. She expected to see the same recognition she felt, the soul-deep bond, the shared history of survival and love.

“Han Shān,” she breathed, her voice trembling. “Zhāo Yàn… Yàn Shū…”

Han Shān stepped forward, but his expression wasn’t one of a reunited mate. It was…polite? Grateful? He looked at her with the intense relief of a man whose employee had almost died on his watch, not a man who had shared a life with her.

“The doctors called it a miracle,” Han Shān said, his voice regaining that icy composure. “I’m happy you’re fine, Bai Yue. Truly. If anything had happened to you while you were protecting my daughter, I wouldn’t have been able to forgive myself.”

Bai Yue’s heart skipped a beat, but for all the wrong reasons. Protecting my daughter? Didn’t the so called goddess say they remembered everything now?

She turned her gaze to Zhāo Yàn. Surely the fiery fox would say something. He was shirtless, looking like he’d fought a pack of wolves to get to her. He caught her eye and offered a small, awkward smirk.

“You really scared us, Bai Yue,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck. “I guess I owe you more than just a bonus for that move you pulled. That was… brave. Insane, but brave.”

Bai Yue?

Finally, she looked at Yàn Shū. The scholar. The one who had seen her in his dreams first. He was trembling, clutching his torn notebook. “We were so worried,” he whispered. “Hóng Yè hasn’t stopped pacing the hallway. We…..we didn’t think you’d wake up so soon.”

Bai Yue felt a cold knot of frustration tighten in her gut. She waited for the punchline. She waited for them to drop the act and call her something else or mention the ginger soup.

“Do you… do you remember?” she asked, her voice tight. “The shaman? The forest? The dreams we all had?”

The three men exchanged a look of pure, clinical confusion.

“The shaman?” Zhāo Yàn asked, frowning. “What shaman? We were at the botanical garden, Bai Yue. There was a shooting. You were hit. I think the blood loss might be making you a bit delirious.”

“But we talked!” Bai Yue sat up slightly, wincing as the movement pulled at her stitches. “Yàn Shū, you came to Han Shān’s office! You talked about the red panda and the snow leopard!”

Yàn Shū adjusted his crooked glasses, looking genuinely concerned. “Bai Yue, I’ve never been to Mr. Han’s office until today when the police called us to the hospital. I think you might be mixing up your dreams with reality. Head trauma can be very disorienting.”

“It’s the medication,” Han Shān added smoothly, signaling for the nurse. “She needs rest. Her mind is trying to process the trauma.”

Bai Yue wanted to scream. She wanted to grab Han Shān by his expensive charcoal lapels and shake him until his memories rattled back into place. I remember everything! she screamed internally. I remember Ruì Xuě’s first word to me! I remember how I gave birth to all your children, even if the timeline in this world makes zero sense!

But they just stood there, looking at her with pity and professional concern. The “Old Life” was gone for them. The Goddess had wiped the slate clean again, leaving Bai Yue as the only one holding the heavy, heartbreaking truth.

“Get some sleep, Bai Yue,” Han Shān said softly. “We’ll be here when you wake up. We’ve already arranged for the best private care.”

They began to file out, Han Shān gently peeling a sobbing Zhēn away from her. As the door swung shut, Bai Yue sank back into the pillows, her eyes burning.

Tiān-Mìng, you absolute bitch, she hissed into the empty room. You can’t do this to me. You can’t let me remember while they forget.

While Bai Yue was fuming in her hospital bed, the air somewhere else was bobbing with tension.

“You had no right!”

A man with hair like spun silver and eyes that glowed with the intensity of a dying star slammed his hand down on a table made of condensed moonlight. This was Tiān-Mìng’s brother. Tiān-Lù.

“Their memories were already cracked!” he roared. “They were beginning to see the threads! To pull them back now, after they saw her bleed……it’s cruel, sister. Even for you.”

A woman in flowing blue robes appeared, speaking to everyone’s shock. Tiān-Ruì. “The balance is tipping. You’ve left the mother with the burden of two worlds and the fathers with nothing but empty instincts. What are you doing sister?! This isn’t what you said you would do!”

Tiān-Mìng, who was lounging on a hammock didn’t even look up from the small glowing orb in her hand.

“Shush,” Tiān-Mìng said, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Both of you. You’re so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Tiān-Lu growled. “You’ve tampered with the reincarnation cycle of three Alpha souls!”

Tiān-Mìng said nothing in response, the mysterious reason behind her suddenly wiping their memories unknown to all.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep