Fu Changrong waited until the footsteps disappeared before he cautiously opened his eyes. He curiously scanned the room and felt a deep sense of unease in this completely unfamiliar environment.
Taking advantage of the absence of people, he carefully sat up from the bed, wanting to go out and have a look, but found his body stiff, his steps numb, and his whole being weak, unable to move for a moment.
Moreover, as soon as he moved, the wires attached to his body moved with him.
Seeing the clip on his finger and the connected wires, he dared not move for a long time.
Where is this place?
Is this the netherworld, or am I in a dream?
No, it can’t be a dream, I’ve never seen such a scene before, how could I dream about it?
Besides, the words they just spoke also don’t seem like something I could come up with; aren’t dreams always related to my experiences?
Fu Changrong gathered some strength and pinched himself. It hurt, but he was still in this white, strange room.
Fu Changrong was extremely amazed, with curiosity overwhelming his fear, watching everything. Could there really be something like Zhuang Zhou dreaming of a butterfly in this world?
Zhuang Zhou turned into a butterfly, but he had become another person, entering that person’s world.
Fu Changrong didn’t know what he touched, but an ear-piercing alarm sounded, scaring him into wanting to quickly return to the bed.
But the doctors and nurses were faster than him. They happened to be discussing his condition not far from the ward when they suddenly heard the alarm, and rushed in immediately in fright.
They then saw Fu Changrong climbing back onto the bed, with the clip on his finger having already fallen off.
The doctors were both surprised and delighted, rushing up and saying, "Professor Fu, you’re awake, is there anywhere that still feels uncomfortable?"
Seeing Fu Changrong looking at them with a fearful and bewildered face, the doctor waved his hand in front of his eyes. Seeing him blink, he cautiously asked, "Professor Fu, do you remember your name?"
Fu Changrong blinked, understanding a few words sporadically, and combined with the context, barely guessed what they were asking.
He hesitated, neither nodding nor shaking his head.
He did know his own name but didn’t know the name of this body.
Hearing them address "him" as a professor, it seemed that this was a learned person.
He looked down at his hand, quite fair, but with calluses on the sides and pads of his fingers, suggesting frequent pen use and handling of delicate items.
The skin on the hand looked similar to his own, but the joints were larger than his; the age should be older than his, but not very old.
Fu Changrong felt a sense of relief.
But the doctors were anxious; what exactly was going on with this Professor Fu—does he know or not? At least say something!
He looked dazed, obviously not knowing.
This was already bad, and the fact that he wasn’t speaking made the problem even worse.
Could it be that the impact damaged his nerves or the auditory or language areas of his brain?
The doctors immediately surrounded him for examination, opening many forms and using machines.
Fu Tinghan was supported and seated in a wheelchair, being pushed around to various rooms for examinations.
He curiously looked at the people and things along the way, displaying a face of wonder no matter what machine he was faced with.
The doctors and nurses kept an eye on his expression, screaming inwardly, it’s over, it’s over—there seemed to be aftereffects of amnesia. Was this temporary amnesia caused by a concussion, or permanent amnesia caused by brain damage?
He seemed to have forgotten everything thoroughly, everything looked novel to him.
The school’s leadership arrived promptly.
Although Fu Tinghan was a mathematics professor, he participated in several experimental projects, providing calculations and some reference advice for the laboratories.
His talent was not limited to mathematics alone.
If he had amnesia, it would be a loss not only for the school, for the lab, but even for the country.
Although the school and the hospital did not allow this matter to be spread, Zhao Hezhen still heard about it from colleagues who came to visit her.
Unlike Fu Changrong, who knew nothing, she could see part of the memories left in this body.
She had some memories from before and after her eye injury.
So, although she couldn’t see, she understood this world better than Fu Changrong did.
Upon hearing that Professor Fu, who had had an incident at the same time as her, not only had amnesia but also was speechless, she knew that the soul in his body, like hers, had come from the Luoyang city gate.
She just didn’t know who it was, friend or foe?
Zhao Hezhen was a little worried; she feared that if it were an enemy, trying to probe might reveal her identity.
Yet she also worried that it might be Second Son. When she fell from her horse, although she pulled Second Son back into the city, vagrants had already charged in at the city gate; she didn’t know if there was any subsequent danger for him.
After pondering for a long time, Zhao Hezhen still decided to personally go and test a bit.
She asked the nurse to push her over.
The nurse, after asking the doctor, also thought that since they had the incident at the same time, talking might help Professor Fu remember the past, so she pushed Zhao Hezhen over.
Zhao Hezhen couldn’t see, and only knew they had arrived when the wheelchair stopped.
The nurse also said, "Teacher Zhao, we’re here."
She then heard, "Professor Fu, this is Teacher Zhao, who was in the same accident with you. You two should talk; it might help with your condition."
She didn’t hear a response, but heard someone else’s intensified breathing.
Zhao Hezhen was slightly surprised in her heart, gently grasped the wheelchair’s armrest, and softly said to the nurse, "Miss, you can go on with your work. I’ll talk with Professor Fu, and I’ll call you when we’re done."
"Alright, but remember not to wander around. Call me if you need anything." She had been rather frightened by Teacher Zhao these days. Even though Zhao couldn’t see, she would try to run outside whenever she got the chance, falling down several times in the hallway. Just yesterday, she managed to sneak to the garden downstairs and fell at the pavilion, scaring an old man who was there for a stroll, enough that he was discharged the same day.
As the nurse left, she turned her vision towards the only source of breathing in the room.
To Fu Changrong’s eyes, she appeared to be looking at him sideways, with an expression of what seemed like a subtle smile.
For a moment, neither said a word.
Zhao Hezhen had already inquired from the nurse. He hadn’t spoken since waking up, and Professor Fu was different from her; she had been blind before the accident, whereas all his senses were intact.
Zhao Hezhen harbored many doubts. After pondering for a long time, she decided to take a risky gamble and said in the Luoyang dialect, "Professor Fu, I heard you don’t remember your name. Do you remember mine? I’m Zhao Hanzhang."
Fu Changrong’s eyes widened.
Zhao Hezhen’s mouth slightly quirked up. Her eyes were blind, which was a significant disadvantage because she couldn’t read faces.
However, her hearing was sharper than most, and her mind was exceptionally clear.
She had already noticed that even when the doors and windows were closed, she could hear whispering in the hallway.
She couldn’t see Professor Fu’s expression but could hear his breathing quicken and deepen.
So, who said being blind was necessarily a disadvantage?
"You’re not Professor Fu."
"You’re not Teacher Zhao."
The two spoke almost simultaneously, raising their brows slightly at each other’s responses without denial, frank in their admissions.
Zhao Hezhen seized the initiative, asking, "Who are you?"
Fu Changrong paused for a moment, then, after glancing at the familiar face, calmly said, "I am from the Northern Fu Family, Fu Changrong."
Zhao Hezhen’s mouth gaped in surprise. Grandpa Fu’s grandson?
Her intended betrothed?
Fu Changrong had escaped from Chang’an, facing numerous hardships along the way, losing contact with his family, and was unaware of the proposed marriage, but he had seen Zhao Hezhen.
So he directly asked, "Are you Zhao Zhongshu’s granddaughter, the third sister of the Zhao Family?"
Zhao Hezhen blurted out, "How do you know?"
Fu Changrong replied, "I bear a strong resemblance to this person. If all goes well, I will grow to look like him in a few years, and you resemble this person too. Although the last time I saw you was many years ago, the likeness is still noticeable."
"Moreover, before the accident, I saw you, and I also saw your younger brother and your servant."
At that time, he and Fu An were entering the city with their household registration, but were pushed forward by the mob of refugees behind them.
A group of reckless youths galloped out of the city, colliding with the refugees, resulting in an instant accident.
He just recognized two among the youths, seeing their startled horses and being attacked by some refugees, he intended to help, but a girl sped past him.
She charged on horseback with her servant, unmercifully lashing her whip at those who tried to grab people off their horses among the refugees and bandits.
The vicious strikes forced them back repeatedly, and the almost unseated Zhao Erlang seized the opportunity to steady himself and climb back onto his horse.
Only then did the soldiers on the city walls and the patrol team, arriving belatedly, aim to drive the rioting refugees and bandits out of the city...
However, having already rushed through the city gates, how could they possibly retreat?
Refugees, rebellious soldiers, bandits, and city soldiers began to fight. Before collapsing, he saw the girl protecting her brother also being thrown off her horse. At that time, he thought she was in a much worse plight than him, such trampling was unlikely to leave even bones...
Never did he imagine they would meet again here.
Fu Changrong looked into her eyes and asked, "Can you not see? Your eyes appear to have no problem."
Zhao Hezhen touched her eyes and said, "They told me my eyes have undergone several surgeries. Currently, there’s no improvement because some nerve seems to have an issue; with the existing technology, it can’t be fixed."
Fu Changrong looked sympathetic. This world is so vibrant and intriguing, yet she couldn’t see it—what a pity.
But Zhao Hezhen’s face remained calm as she asked, "What about you? Why don’t you speak?"
Fu Changrong replied, "I previously couldn’t understand their language well, but now I can comprehend it, though I’m still clumsy in speaking. I’m afraid once I speak, I’ll give myself away."
"Huh, you don’t have his memory?"
She herself had secretly practiced using the remembered accent for two days before daring to speak.
Fu Changrong was utterly surprised, "You have her memory?"

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