“Then what do you mean by ‘your memories being different from others’?”
“It’s my entire life,” Yan Zhichun replied. “It’s not just one event or one detail that’s different… but countless chaotic discrepancies over many years…”
“This…” Dr. Zhao lowered his head in thought for a moment before frowning. “I’ve never heard of such a case in the real world, but that doesn’t mean it can’t be explained.”
“Can this really be explained with medical knowledge…?”
“Well, it’s not exactly medical knowledge,” Dr. Zhao sighed. “Miss, whether you believe it or not, all the memories in our minds right now are false.”
“Huh…?” Yan Zhichun and Jiang Ruoxue exclaimed in unison. “All of them?!”
“No, no, no…” Dr. Zhao chuckled. “Maybe I made it sound too alarming, but the reality is this: our brains seem to store countless memories like a library, but in truth, every brain makes errors when storing information. Unimportant or unnoticed details are subconsciously ignored.”
“Errors…?” Yan Zhichun nodded. “How extensive are these errors?”
“Just minor details,” Dr. Zhao continued. “Interestingly, when we recall these memories, the brain ‘reconstructs’ them based on context and logic to make them feel complete.”
“What…?” Yan Zhichun paused slightly. “You mean the brain has the ability to ‘self-repair’ fragmented memories…?”
“Yes, ‘self-repair’—that’s a good term,” Dr. Zhao smiled. “In fact, the so-called ‘Mandela Effect’ is exactly this: the human brain constantly rewrites past memories based on current information and recent events, making many people believe their memories are chaotic. But in truth, the vast majority of people’s memories are wrong—just to varying degrees.”
“This is too abstract…” Yan Zhichun said. “Are you saying no one can trust their own memories? What’s the difference between that and being insane?”
“No, no, no…” Dr. Zhao quickly shook his head. “Miss, you’ve got it backward. It’s precisely because our brains can repair memories that we don’t go insane.”
“How so…?”
“Well… let me give you an example.” Dr. Zhao glanced at a nearby can. “I clearly remember taking this can from the shelf, but the shelf has five levels. I only recall it being somewhere in the middle—was it the second, third, or fourth level? Does that make sense?”
“Yes,” Yan Zhichun nodded. “I understand. You remember taking the can but didn’t memorize its exact position.”
“Exactly,” Dr. Zhao smiled. “Years from now, when I recall this moment, my brain might tell me the can was on the third level. But whether it was actually there doesn’t matter—it’s just making the memory feel complete. That’s the ‘rationality’ our brains grant us.”
“I still don’t fully grasp it…” Yan Zhichun frowned. “What if my brain didn’t ‘repair’ that shelf level information? What would happen?”
“Glad you asked,” Dr. Zhao replied. “Think of our brains like a computer. If it loses the shelf position data, every time you recall the memory, it’ll just tell you, ‘You took the can from the void’—because neither you nor your brain recorded the exact spot. If it can’t fabricate a plausible reason, it’ll default to ‘void’ or ‘unknown,’ making you sound like a glitchy video game. If you kept recalling fragmented memories like that, you’d feel like you were losing your mind.”
Dr. Zhao’s analogy was so straightforward that Yan Zhichun not only grasped the concept of “memory repair” but also connected it to her own experiences.
“I think I get it now…” Yan Zhichun said. “Because my memories have so many gaps, my brain forcibly stitched them together to keep me from going insane. Even if they seem chaotic, at least they feel coherent… Otherwise, I’d just recall myself endlessly wandering through ‘the void’…”
She narrowed her eyes slightly—somehow, Qinglong had once said something similar. Who’d have thought that lunatic would accidentally speak the truth?
“I suppose that’s the only explanation…” Dr. Zhao mused. “Though I don’t know what exactly happened to you, ‘memory distortion’ is entirely possible—especially with minor details…”
“It’s way beyond ‘minor details,'” Yan Zhichun interrupted. “Dr. Zhao, what’s the most extreme case of memory repair you’ve heard of?”
“I’ve seen someone completely forget their family existed,” Dr. Zhao said. “What the brain chooses to repair depends entirely on the individual’s needs. Some trauma survivors have their brains ‘repair’ painful memories by erasing them. The principle is the same—our brains are ‘alive,’ adapting repairs based on circumstances or personal states.”
Only now did Yan Zhichun realize this doctor was genuinely skilled—she’d underestimated him earlier.
“I see…” Yan Zhichun nodded. “Thank you, Dr. Zhao.”
For the first time, she felt like her jumbled memories were finally connecting—including that time in Bai Yang’s office when she’d discovered her own corpse…
One phrase Bai Yang had said then resurfaced in her mind:
“Why are you here already…?”
Logically, she’d been “copied” earlier than expected due to some anomaly, leading her to see her own body—something Bai Yang hadn’t anticipated. Hence, his reaction.
Not only was that line strange, but Bai Yang’s repeated insistence—”There’s nothing here, you’re mistaken”—was even more baffling. There was clearly a corpse, so why such an absurd lie?
But he was Bai Yang, after all.
Reflecting on it now, this was likely another kind of “hint” he’d tried implanting in her mind.
Unfortunately, it hadn’t worked—seeing your own corpse is unforgettable.
Even if she couldn’t recall anything else about that room, she’d remember her own body lying there. Her brain couldn’t “repair” that memory away.
“If my brain repairs normally, my memories stitch together seamlessly…” Yan Zhichun murmured. “If it can’t, I just feel like I ‘zoned out’ for a moment… That must be it…”
Unbeknownst to the group, Chu Tianqiu was leaning against the door outside, listening to the conversation with a contemplative expression.
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