"Emotional dissociation disorder," he said abruptly. "Clinical presentation: inability to feel love, hatred, grief—basic emotions—while retaining full cognitive and logical function." His thumb pressed against her pulse. "Case number MN-07-01. First successful survivor."
Xia Xiaoman held her breath. This was the first time Li Moting had voluntarily mentioned Project MN-07.
"They removed my amygdala." His laugh was uglier than a sob. "In exchange, I gained near-perfect business acumen." His fingers traced the bloodstain on her collarbone. "Until you."
The rain softened. Xia Xiaoman realized how close they were—her knee against his thigh, their faces barely ten centimeters apart. At this distance, she could see the golden-brown flecks in his irises, like amber melting in sunlight.
"I don't understand," she admitted.
Li Moting leaned forward, resting his forehead against her shoulder. The gesture made him look unbearably vulnerable, as if he'd shed all armor.
"Your heartbeat," he murmured. "When Zhao Shiheng held a knife to your throat, my pulse synchronized with yours." His hand slid up her spine. "Medically impossible."
A realization struck her. Cradling his face, she waited for the next flash of lightning before speaking: "That day in the clinic, you said my memories were your medical records..."
"Because you're the only one who makes me *feel*," he interrupted, voice rough. "Like phantom limb pain—the organ's gone, but the pain remains." His thumb traced her lips. "You're my phantom pain, Xia Xiaoman."
The metaphor sent a sharp ache through her chest. Xia Xiaoman remembered the scribbled note on the last page of her father's research: **"Only when carrier and receptor achieve emotional resonance can memory transplantation be deemed successful."**
She kissed him.
The taste was blood and whiskey, yet inexplicably tender. When they parted, Li Moting looked like a drowning man clinging to driftwood.
"Now tell me," she whispered against his forehead, "what is the real purpose of Project MN-07?"
His gaze cleared. Reaching into his suit pocket, he produced the child's drawing and pointed to the date in the corner: *July 16, 2003—the day before my mother died.* Flipping it over revealed faded ink: **"Memory Transplant Experiment Phase VII: Emotional Carrier Compatibility Test."**
Xia Xiaoman's blood ran cold. The scar "Ⅶ" on her wrist, the cages labeled 1 through 6 in her father's lab...
"We've been deceived," Li Moting said, voice hollow. "All our memories are transplants, including—"
An engine roared outside. They turned in unison to see three black SUVs tearing through the rain, surrounding the safe house. The lead car's door opened, a black umbrella unfurling to reveal Li Chenzhou's ice-cold face.
"—our feelings for each other," Li Moting finished, threading his fingers through hers. "This is the final experiment."
---
### **"The Data Labyrinth: Altered Memories and Truth"**
Li Corporation Headquarters, 3:17 AM.
The alarm pierced the silence just as Xia Xiaoman was organizing fragmented data on Project MN-07. Emergency lights flooded the floor, casting her silhouette against the window—an eerie double image overlapping the storm-lit cityscape.
"Breach in the smart medical database," Li Moting's voice came from behind, uncharacteristically tense. "Seventeen core algorithm modifications detected."
She turned to find him standing before a holographic display, his fingers skimming through floating red error codes. The projection's blue glow sharpened his features, etching harsh lines across his face. His cuffs bore traces of blood—left three hours earlier during the confrontation with his father, Li Chenzhou.
"Not a typical hack," she said, stepping closer. The faint scent of jasmine hung in the air—Li Mingyue's signature perfume. "This coding pattern... I've seen it before."
Li Moting's hand paused over a blinking node. "Explain."
"Last year's *Financial Frontier* covered a similar case—the Swiss MedGroup leak. The attacker used a nested algorithm..." Her fingers traced invisible paths. "Like hiding a second maze inside the first."
The hologram glitched abruptly, replaced by a video feed. Li Mingyue's elegant face appeared, her backdrop unmistakably MN-07's original lab equipment.
"Dear nephew," the woman smiled. "Remember the puzzle I gave you for your tenth birthday?" She held up a metal piece engraved with "Ⅶ." "Sometimes, the most crucial fragment is hidden in plain sight."
The video cut out. A final warning flashed:
**[Memory Data Integrity Check Failed: Carrier #7 Compatibility Dropped to 79%]**
A sharp pain lanced through Xia Xiaoman's temple. She saw Li Moting's pupils constrict—they both knew the significance. Her father's notes had warned: *Below 80% compatibility, transplanted memories begin to fracture.*
"This isn't a hack," Li Moting ground out. "She's activating dormant code."
Xia Xiaoman rushed to the console. Her fingers flew across the keyboard, retrieving deleted logs. Her hyperthymesia replayed every action with film-like precision.
"Found it!" She pointed to a string of code. "This wasn't an external breach—it's an internal backdoor, hidden in the medical AI's ethics protocol module."
The unfolded code revealed its true nature: a sophisticated memory-overwriting program, quietly replacing core MN-07 memory segments. Most horrifying was the timestamp—activation seven years prior, long before the smart medical project's inception.
"Aunt has been planning this longer than we thought," Li Moting said coldly. "She started the moment my mother died."
Xia Xiaoman clutched her head. A stabbing pain brought flashbacks—a younger self strapped to a medical chair, Li Mingyue leaning in with a syringe, whispering—
"Xiaoman?" Li Moting's palm pressed between her shoulder blades. "Breathe. Follow my rhythm."
His steady heartbeat against her skin anchored her. Gasping, she gestured to the screen: "This file path... the backdoor connects to an external server."
The IP trace left them speechless. The location—Geneva, Switzerland—home to Li Mingyue's husband, the renowned neuroscientist.
"This goes beyond corporate warfare," Xia Xiaoman said tightly. "She's trying to rewrite all MN-07 subjects' memories... including ours."
Li Moting yanked his collar open, revealing a barcode below his clavicle. The scan result froze Xia Xiaoman's blood: **[MN-07-01 Receptor. Memory Source: Carrier #7]**
"Now you see," he said, thumb brushing her wrist scar. "Why you bypass my emotional dissociation." His grip tightened. "Those feelings were never mine to begin with."
Outside, the city's lights abruptly died. In the backup generator's glow, Xia Xiaoman caught something unfamiliar in Li Moting's eyes—fear. Fear of losing the transplanted memories of her.
"She won't succeed." Snatching the keyboard, she pulled up her father's encryption algorithm. "His notes mentioned a fatal flaw in memory transplantation..."
Her finger hovered over Enter as she met Li Moting's gaze:
"Shall we bet on it? On our shared phantom pain."