The person who walked in through the opened door wore a plaid shirt, jeans, and white canvas sneakers. He was clearly a single man without a girlfriend to help him dress—ordinary and commonplace. Yet the sight of his face and the aura he exuded sent a chill down Meng Qi’s spine.
It was actually another version of himself!
Wasn’t he supposed to have died in his rented apartment? Hadn’t his parents been grieving his loss for nearly three years?
The facial features were carved identically, his gestures seemed like a copy, and even his aura was exactly the same. At first, Meng Qi thought the eerie feeling was due to emotional fluctuations, so he didn’t pay much attention.
He watched this “himself” kick off his canvas shoes, slip into slippers, shuffle into the kitchen, grab half an uncut sausage, and start chewing. His mother scolded him with a knock on the head, and Meng Qi felt as though he were watching a scene from yesterday—so real it felt surreal.
Beautiful memories played out like a movie, but the person in those memories was no longer him.
Who was real, and who was fake? When the false becomes real, even the real becomes false?
Had the Buddha of Darkness or Yang Jian deliberately created another “himself” to cover their tracks, or was there some other mystery at play?
He stood motionless in the living room, his figure hidden in the void, watching the warm, familiar scene unfold.
“Almost thirty and still no sense of responsibility. Scram, go carry the dishes outside,” his mother pushed the slovenly “himself.”
Smiling, the “himself” praised his mother’s sausage-making skills, then carried the dishes outside, lowered his voice, and asked his father, “How much have you saved in secret lately?”
His father guarded his pockets warily. “You little brat, eyeing your dad’s hidden money again? Do you think it’s easy for me? I save every penny I can while buying vegetables, even reusing old cigarette boxes to hold my tobacco. And you, ungrateful brat, instead of taking care of me, always try to get your hands on my savings. I really wish I had a daughter instead.”
The “himself” smirked playfully. “Dad, I was just asking. You don’t have to get so worked up.”
He then pulled out a stack of money and handed it to his father. “Quit smoking. Use something like e-liquid instead.”
His father took the money, then sighed. “I was just kidding. Keep the money yourself. Our family isn’t well-off, I can’t help you much. Nowadays, women have high expectations, and you’ll have to rely on yourself to get married in the future.”
The “himself” shrugged carelessly. “Don’t worry, Dad. I’m young, strong, educated, and capable. I’m not afraid of not being able to earn money.”
Dinner was served, and as usual, his mother began her nagging. She looked at this and wasn’t satisfied, glared at that and seemed ready to kick it. Finally, she sighed deeply. “Meng Qi, I don’t expect you to support me in my old age, but you’re almost thirty now and still don’t have a girlfriend. I’m really worried. The neighbor’s son Xiao Ming is much younger than you, and his kid can already call him dad. I know you’re ambitious and don’t want to settle, but as you grow older, your options will shrink. I’m getting old too, and my health isn’t great. I’m afraid I won’t live to see my daughter-in-law…”
Seeing his mother getting more emotional, the “himself” coughed and smiled. “Mom, it’s not a big deal. There must be at least dozens, maybe even a hundred girls secretly crushing on me. Of course, I need to be picky.”
His mother was instantly amused but gave him a sidelong glance. “Always bragging! If you’re so confident, bring someone home by the end of the year!”
“Yes, yes, as Her Majesty the Empress Dowager commands.” The “himself” cracked jokes, softening the dinner atmosphere.
One nagged with love, one spoke little but cared deeply, and one kept the mood lively while being filial and steadfast. This warm and beautiful family scene unfolded before Meng Qi’s eyes, stirring complex emotions within him.
He felt moved, nostalgic, and emotional, yet he could only watch silently, as if an unbridgeable chasm separated him from them.
These scenes often appeared in his memories, but back then, his mother hadn’t yet nagged about marriage. Now, standing aside and watching them enjoy their peaceful family life, he felt completely detached.
He didn’t realize he was a guest in his own life.
After washing dishes, mopping the floor, and chatting, when this Earthly Meng Qi returned to his room, his eyes suddenly narrowed, and his heart raced. Sitting on the computer chair was a familiar figure.
If he didn’t know there was no mirror there and that their clothes were vastly different, he would have thought he was seeing himself.
“Who are you?” He blurted out, his expression startled.
Then he heard his own voice echoing in the room, not leaking outside at all.
Meng Qi’s smile was faint. “Am I not you?”
His eyes emitted black and white light, and an ancient lamp illuminated past and future. In his hand, the Wheel of the King of Three Lifetimes slowly turned, directly awakening the “current Meng Qi’s” memories of this life.
Bit by bit, the past reappeared. Meng Qi relived his childhood, adolescence, and youth. There was no difference from his own memories. However, at the point of the time-travel incident, this Meng Qi’s memory showed no death—only being sent to the hospital. Later, realizing the fragility of life, he quit his job and returned to a small county, living close to his parents.
The Wheel of the King of Three Lifetimes turned again, and when it traced further back, everything went blank—this Meng Qi had no past life!
“I see…” Meng Qi closed his eyes briefly, understanding the truth.
To escape captivity, the Buddha of Darkness had acted cautiously, inserting his “other self” into the body of Su Zi Yuan, then creating a completely new soul to replace “Meng Qi.” This soul originally had no memories, but the Buddha of Darkness had infused it with fragments of Meng Qi’s life, shaping the same personality, behavior, and memories. In a sense, this soul could be considered “Meng Qi” as well.
Later, Yang Jian secretly replaced the physical body with blood and shape-shifting.
“This soul believes itself to be Meng Qi, has complete and detailed memories, the same values, personality, and preferences. Therefore, everyone around him—including himself—believes he is ‘me.'” Looking at the familiar face, Meng Qi suddenly gained some insight. “What defines ‘me’? What defines ‘him’? What is the unique mark that distinguishes oneself from others? Genes can be copied, bloodlines can be inherited. Opinions on certain matters and feelings toward certain people all stem from memory and experience. When someone else has exactly the same memories and experiences, who is ‘me’? And who am I?”
This was the uniqueness that Master Lu had spoken of, the question pursued by the Green Emperor. Finding oneself, discovering the true “I,” was a key step in elevating one’s life, leading to legends, transformations, and even the ultimate transcendence.
Otherwise, with countless “other selves” across countless worlds, and so many versions of oneself in the past and future, how could one recognize which is truly “me”?
Unconsciously, Meng Qi left the room and sat on the living room sofa, his mind filled with insights and doubts. His heart was like the night outside—sometimes illuminated by moonlight and stars, but ultimately unable to pierce the darkness.
He didn’t hide his form. A black-and-white cat first hid away, then cautiously peeked out. Soon, it seemed to sense a familiar presence and darted over, rubbing its head against his hand.
That simple touch bridged years of time.
Meng Qi stroked the cat’s head, sitting quietly, gazing into the night, pondering the question of self. He felt as if darkness had enveloped him.
The unique “I” was not only defined by personality and experience but also by one’s true nature, innate disposition, and the earliest imprints. This was also why the “other selves” and the “original self” could always maintain a connection.
Before he realized it, a rooster crowed, and the eastern sky turned white. Morning light illuminated the sky and Meng Qi’s inner confusion. He felt his internal organs grow lighter, as if he were rising above all worlds, nearing the realm of an immortal.
At that moment, his parents’ bedroom door opened, and his father walked out, drowsily heading to the bathroom.
Glancing sideways, his father saw Meng Qi sitting on the sofa and paused. “Up so early? Was Mom’s nagging bothering you last night?”
The familiar tone, the familiar care. Meng Qi pursed his lips, lowered his gaze, and smiled faintly. “Me? Carefree as ever. How could I have any worries? I just got too absorbed in gaming and stayed up all night. I came out for some fresh air.”
This kind of conversation had been separated from him by over thirty years. The warm scene from last night no longer needed to be envied.
“You…” His father shook his head and went into the bathroom. When he came out, he saw Meng Qi holding some green plants.
Meng Qi smiled and handed them over. “Dad, this is a branch from a nearly sentient Isatis root. Well, technically, it’s a branch. It’s supposed to cure all diseases. I bought it online, but I’m sure it’s authentic. You can boil it with seven bowls of water and combine it with regular Isatis to reduce its potency. Drinking half a cup a day should stop your coughing.”
“A nearly sentient Isatis root?” His father snorted. His son was always full of wild stories, but the thoughtfulness was touching.
He took the Isatis and hummed a tune as he returned to his room.
Meng Qi stood in the pale morning light, gazing for a long time, then left home.
…
The fabricated “Meng Qi” woke up with a strange feeling, turned his head, and saw a note on the desk, held down by a strange metal sheet.
He picked it up and read a few lines:
“From now on, you are my brother.”
“Mom and Dad are getting old. Don’t make them go through any more hardships. Take good care of their health. I’ll send you the herbs.”
“If you need anything, use the World-Connecting Symbol.”
Confused and puzzled, the “Meng Qi” wondered what brother, what World-Connecting Symbol?
Just then, his phone rang. He answered casually and heard a sweet voice he could never forget. “Hey, Meng Qi?”
“Caoyang? Caoyang?” The “Meng Qi” was both happy and surprised. “Why did you call me?”
“I asked a few people for your number. Thank you for your help yesterday. I’d like to treat you to a meal. Oh, and if you don’t mind, a friend of mine needs your help.” Caoyang sounded a bit hesitant.
“Sure, sure!” The “Meng Qi” barely heard the last part.
…
Walking down the stairs, Meng Qi met a neighbor he had known for years. Though the man had achieved little, he now looked energetic.
“Xiao Meng, up so early today?” The neighbor greeted him warmly.
Meng Qi nodded. “Getting older, not as healthy as before. I need to start exercising.”
The neighbor hummed in agreement, then leaned in. “Xiao Meng, have you heard of…”
Is he about to start an advertisement? Meng Qi thought to himself.
The neighbor continued. “Have you heard of… the Eternal Mother?”
Meng Qi’s gaze fell on the neighbor’s face.
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