Why did he know the name “Ivan”? Who is Ivan?
Louis stared closely at the man in front of him, in an attempt to test his doubts, he called out, “Ivan.”
The man indeed turned around, and then his expression changed from surprise to fear in a second.
…
Ivan heard someone calling out to him, turned his head, and his face turned pale in an instant.
Louis, after all, was the most popular actor online. Even if he wasn’t active on the internet, Ivan knew who he was.
When he first saw Louis on screen, he was frightened, and just seeing his face made his prosthetic right hand ache reflexively.
But he had investigated the person who had cut off his hand, a fool from the orphanage named Autumn, and he had been missing for a long time, already declared dead by the authorities.
Although Louis looked a lot like Autumn, he was not foolish, and he could act in movies. His background was so strong that he couldn’t be traced, completely unrelated to the fool from the orphanage.
Additionally, there was a difference in the temperament of the two.
But one should not underestimate temperament. A change in temperament can change a person entirely, and it’s normal not to be able to distinguish at first glance, and what one sees in reality may differ from what is seen on screen.
Since Elisa’s death, Ivan had considered the loss of his right hand as a punishment. Compared to what Elisa had suffered-imprisonment, depression, abortion, broken legs, and being burned to death-losing a hand was only one percent of her pain.
Four or five years had passed in the blink of an eye, and Ivan had almost forgotten about that person until Louis stopped him now. His entire soul shook.
Louis was not the Autumn who had cut off his hand.
Ivan reminded himself in this way, but Louis’s gaze was unmistakable, even if he turned to ashes, he would still recognize him.
His body couldn’t stop trembling, he subconsciously covered his prosthetic right hand.
Following his movements, Louis saw his right hand, and a memory flashed in his mind: he kicked a man to the ground, twisted his wrist, and then, without hesitation, plunged a sharp pair of scissors into it.
Louis shuddered, drenched in a cold sweat from this unfamiliar memory fragment.
How did he know this person’s name? And how did he know that his right hand had been amputated and replaced with a prosthesis? Clearly, this was the first time he had seen him.
Was it really the first time?
Louis began to doubt himself.
His brain suddenly throbbed, as if something was being squeezed in, even though the plane hadn’t taken off yet, he felt like everything around him was shaking. He felt a severe sense of weightlessness, dizzy and nauseous.
Louis’s face turned as white as paper, cold sweat dripping. His head felt like it was being filled with foam, expanding, as if about to burst through a barrier. He gripped the armrest tightly, his knuckles turning white and his whole body trembling.
Since Louis got on the plane, he had attracted the attention of several flight attendants, especially the air hostess, who couldn’t help but keep staring at him. They approached when they saw his pale face, concerned.
Even though he recognized him as the popular actor Louis, he pretended not to know them, calling them “sir.”
“Sir, are you feeling unwell? Do you need help?” the flight attendant asked.
Louis couldn’t hear a word, his brain felt like it was filled with water, ringing in his ears.
He tried to speak, but it felt like his throat was filled with mud, he couldn’t get anything out. He raised his hand to his forehead, pressing his temples with his fingertips, trying to relieve the throbbing pain.
In the corner of his eye, he saw Ivan getting up, seeming to head to the restroom.
The plane hadn’t taken off yet, Louis exhaled heavily, mustering all his strength to say, “I’m fine, don’t stare at me, I’m going to the restroom.”
The flight attendant quickly stepped back to allow Louis to get up.
Ivan didn’t notice that he had attracted someone’s attention, and he continued to follow him.
He splashed cold water on his face in the restroom, trying to clear his head. He looked at himself in the mirror, numbing himself as he spoke.
“Stop thinking about it, the dead can’t come back to life.” That person who cut off his hand, Autumn, was already dead, just like his sister Elisa, who had been dead for a very long time. Once a person dies, they won’t come back.
After visiting the cemetery that day, Ivan had been trying to find out who had visited his parents’ graves, but so far, hehad found nothing.
The shopkeeper and people around said the person didn’t resemble Elisa in appearance, height, or age.
After Elisa’s death, he and Micah had gone to the Chiwood Police Station to pick up her remains, and he had personally witnessed Elisa being taken to the crematorium, leaving behind a pile of ashes mixed with bone fragments.
The ashes of a healthy person are usually a beautiful white, but Elisa’s ashes had a blackish tinge.
He had watched Micah scatter the ashes into the sea, with Hamish present at the time as well.
If Elisa hadn’t died, Hamish would have been the first to notice. But over these past few years, he had heard that the once vibrant and successful businessman Hamish had turned gray overnight and was no longer the proud and arrogant man he used to be.
Elisa’s death had changed many people.
Ivan had quit his previous lifestyle and was now a working professional with a positive attitude towards life. Micah and Hattie continued to research cancer treatments, saving many people suffering from gastric cancer like Elisa. Even the maid, Zhou Xiao, who had been hired by Hamish to take care of Elisa, had changed careers and become a lawyer. The nanny, Mrs. Rugger, had retired to take care of stray cats and dogs at home.
They were all finding their own ways to love the world, to remember Elisa.
Ivan splashed more cold water on his face, his eyes reddening from the water. He looked as if he had been crying.
If only the dead could come back to life. He had learned how to be a good brother. He had protected her when she was being bullied, helped her defeat bad people, unconditionally believed in her, and had put all his effort into loving her.
He had cherished his sister in his heart. His hands should have been used to protect Elisa, not to abandon her time and time again, and hurt her.
Why did he only understand this after Elisa’s death? By then, it was too late, and fate didn’t even give him a chance to make amends.
Ivan usually tries not to think about these things, but today, seeing Louis, memories gush out like a flood, unstoppable, until a splash of cold water wakes him up a bit.
He glances at his phone; the plane is about to take off, he needs to hurry out. As he opens the door, he runs into a solid wall of flesh, startled, Ivan steps back. Before he can react, Louis holds his shoulder and pushes him back in, slamming the door shut.
Louis presses Ivan against the wall. Ivan, looking at the man who is suddenly so close, feels awkward, especially with nowhere to place his hands. Louis squints, observing him, becoming more and more familiar.
“You seem to be quite afraid of me,” he remarks. Obviously, Ivan’s hand hurts. How could he not be afraid?
Louis observes Ivan’s expression, grasping his right prosthetic hand, making Ivan tremble even more. “It’s fake,” Louis states, more as though he already knew.
“Do you know me?” Louis asks again.
“Don’t you know me?” Ivan counters, pretending not to recognize.
Louis: “Then I should recognize you?”
Ivan suddenly calms down. His previously restless heart gradually settles. He can tell whether the other person intends to harm him. Louis, at this moment, looks puzzled, as if trapped in an unsolvable puzzle.
Could Louis be the Autumn who chopped off his hand?
Louis releases Ivan, stepping back, and asks, “Can you tell me how your hand got severed?”
“Are you crazy? Why should I tell a complete stranger my private affairs?” Ivan retorts.
Louis calmly states, “I’m just curious. Clearly, I haven’t met you, yet I know your name, and it seems I know how your hand was severed.”
This startles Ivan. Among so many people in the world, looking alike is one thing, but could experiences and memories also be the same?
Ivan may not be smart, but not being smart doesn’t mean being foolish. He quickly realizes something is amiss. Louis must be the Autumn who chopped off his hand. Louis is Autumn; they are the same person.
If he doesn’t remember now, it can only mean one thing.
Ivan swallows hard. “Have you lost your memory? Do you not remember anything from before?”
“I lost my memory?” Ivan doesn’t want to waste words on him. It’s better if Louis has amnesia. Since his right hand became disabled, this person has been his nightmare.
For Ivan, Louis having amnesia is for the best.
“Whether you’ve lost your memory or not is none of my business. I need to get out of here,” Ivan says, avoiding eye contact with Louis.
Louis instantly understands that Ivan must know something. He’s just humoring him. The answer is right in front of him, just a flip away. He doesn’t need to miss it.
“If you dare to leave, I’ll twist your other hand,” Louis threatens.
Ivan, scared stiff, stammers in resistance, “Are you insane? This is a public place, and you’re a public figure. If you dare lay a finger on me here, do you want to ruin your reputation?”
“I just want to tell you that, in order to achieve what I want, I can go to any lengths.” The last two words are clearly spoken with suppressed anger, a blatant threat.
“Did I maim your right hand?” Louis inquires.
Unable to escape, Ivan can only compromise and humor him, “It was someone named Autumn who maimed my hand.”
Autumn again?
First Elisa, now Ivan. He and this person called Autumn are always inexplicably linked.
His head begins to ache again. Louis grits his teeth and demands, “How was your hand severed? Describe the process.”
Recalling the painful past and speaking about it is like reopening a scar that has already healed, then sprinkling salt on it to savor the pain.
Louis doesn’t care if Ivan is suffering; he only cares about one truth.
His eyes cold as ice, Louis grabs Ivan’s neck, not exerting force, just asserting control.
“Why did Autumn want to chop off your hand?” Louis’s voice is low, his eyes sharp like a hawk’s, staring at Ivan. “Speak!”
“Because I sold my own sister to a casino and caused her harm! I abandoned her!” She had called out to him not to leave her behind, but he had walked away without looking back.
Thinking back to the past, Ivan’s eyes redden, filled with guilt. If he could go back, he would never leave her alone. His hand being chopped off was well-deserved punishment for him.
Louis releases his grip on Ivan’s neck, staggering back to his seat. It’s as if he’s just woken from a dream, feeling dizzy and disoriented, not knowing where he is.
It will take fifteen hours to get back to Bankshire. Every minute isagonizing.
The flight attendant notices that he still hasn’t recovered and approaches him.
Louis doesn’t hear anything, just muttering one word, “Water…”
“Would you like some water?” The flight attendant quickly hands him a glass of warm water.
Louis takes it shakily, splashing water as he does, accidentally choking as he drinks. He refuses any help, finishing the water and placing the glass aside, closing his eyes.
He never thought he would be in such a hurry to return to see Elisa.
It feels as though he has experienced several lifetimes and those confused memories in his mind are becoming clearer, while what he thought was real is becoming more and more obscure, like a mirage.
His head is pounding, he grits his teeth, enduring it. Unknowingly, his face is cold, covered in water stains.
From that point on, he becomes the focus of the flight attendants’ attention. Once, as a flight attendant passes by Louis, she hears him muttering incoherently.
“Why did you forget… little crybaby, how could big brother forget about you?”