Category: Lost and Found

Lost and Found– Chapter 5

Gathering

After more than a month of rest, I began to grow restless. After Zhanghua and I talked it over, she arranged a gathering for me, inviting only our mutual friends. In other words, they were friends I now had to get to know all over again.

To be honest, the ones I really wanted to see were my old classmates who graduated with me and became wage earners like me. It had been seven years, and I wondered how they had turned out. Unfortunately, Zhanghua didn’t know any of them, so she couldn’t help me contact them. And since I couldn’t remember any phone numbers, there wasn’t much I could do. I still remembered where a few of my close friends had worked seven years ago, but after Zhanghua looked into it for me, she found that a few of them had already switched jobs. It would take some time to track them down. Only two stayed in their old companies. But considering how long we had been out of touch and the state I was in now, I wasn’t sure what I would even talk about with them.

Frankly, I found this whole situation bizarre. According to Zhanghua, I had only met her a little over two years after joining the company, meaning about two and a half years after I graduated from university. How had I lost contact with nearly everyone in such a short time? What on earth was wrong with Deputy Manager Qiu? To differentiate between the current amnesiac me and the past me, I often referred to the past me as “Deputy Manager Qiu.” Ever since learning about all the shocking truths, I could no longer see the me of those seven years and the me now as the same person.

Now that I thought about it, what Deputy Manager Qiu had left me, apart from the impressive balance in my savings account, were a laptop I couldn’t access, a phone I couldn’t unlock, a partner I had no idea how to face, a situation where I lost my friends and family, and now this room full of “associates” who looked anything but ordinary.

The gathering was held in the VIP section of Luran Club. About a dozen people showed up, men and women, all of whom were either rich or powerful, and most of them looked to be in their prime.

The venue was a spacious, well-lit indoor space with a sofa lounge, three bar counters, each with a dedicated server, and eight bowling lanes that are impossible to ignore. I had been informed beforehand that we were meeting over bowling this time, but I hadn’t expected the organizer to go all out, reserving a space this grand for just a handful of people.

This group seemed to gather once every season, each time with a different theme, and while it wasn’t a formal routine, considering how busy everyone was, it was still quite frequent. The main goal was to catch up with each other. As for the ultimate goal of that, it went without saying. If the group had a formal name, it would probably be something like “Intelligence and Mutual Benefit Networking Association.”

But it seemed like that was just my cynical take, because Zhanghua clearly didn’t see it that way. After getting to know them again, I soon realized that among these people, aside from the superficial acquaintances, there were a few who genuinely cared about her. It’s just the way I discovered it was less than pleasant.

Neither Zhanghua nor I thought it necessary to tell everyone about my memory loss, so only a handful of people at the gathering were aware of my condition. To the rest, Zhanghua told them I had been in a minor car accident and was a little fuzzy about what happened recently, but it was nothing serious.

Honestly, I was still a little nervous since in my mind, I was just a freshly graduated rookie who had only been working for a little over a month. No matter how hard I tried to play the part, it was simply beyond the current me to navigate this kind of event smoothly.

Zhanghua took me for a quick round around the venue and exchanged brief pleasantries with most people, mainly for me to put names to faces. Then we found a corner to sit down.

Noticing my relieved sigh as I sat, she asked, concerned, “Nervous?”

I nodded. “A little. I don’t know any of these people, yet they’re acting like we’re close. It feels like I’m playing someone else, and it feels exhausting and unnatural.”

“I guess this must be how those time-travelling protagonists in romance novels feel like, huh?” I said.

“You feel like you’ve time-traveled?” Zhanghua chuckled at my comment.

I laughed too. Once the tension eased, I brightened up, “Unfortunately, I’m not a time traveler. Otherwise, I could tell you how the stock market will move. You provide the capital, I provide the brains, and we’d both make a fortune.”

Zhanghua flagged down a server and fetched two drinks for us. The others had begun forming teams to bowl. The atmosphere was lively and cheerful. I sat on the seat by the lanes listening to the crash of the bowling pins tumbling and occasionally joined in for a round or two with the next lane. Although I wasn’t great, it was still kind of fun.

I wasn’t a great bowler, neither were these people. But that wasn’t the point. Everyone’s main goal was to mingle and catch up on the latest gossip.

At first, the conversation seemed to be going nowhere, but after a while, I could more or less piece together the topics that had their attention lately, like my “car accident,” the sudden divorce of a certain company’s general manager with her husband, the unexpected death of a business tycoon, the suicide of a conglomerate’s second son’s wife due to depression, and the impact of the newly established club called Baiqi…etc. To them, these were juicy intel, but to me, it was like listening to celebrity gossips, utterly boring.

So when someone came over to talk to Zhanghua again, I quickly excused myself to the restroom. And that’s where I ran into Lu Changyi alone.

Lu Changyi, the organizer of this gathering and the real owner behind this club. More specifically, this club was one of the properties owned by Lu Construction and was currently managed by her.

When I stepped out of the stall, she was standing by the sink, wiping her hands with a paper towel by the sink, staring into the mirror as if lost in thought. When she saw me, she smiled at me. Lu Changyi wore her hair in a stylish bob that barely brushed her shoulders. No highlights, no dye. A pair of rimless glasses framed her fair, delicate face. Like most attendees, she wore a polo shirt. She seemed gentle and poised, but somehow, I had a feeling that she wasn’t an easy person to get along with.

“Hi,” I greeted her out of courtesy.

“Hi,” she replied. “Zhanghua told me you’ve lost the last seven years of memories?”

“She told you that? Seems like you two are pretty close,” I said.

“We’ve been friends for years. You know, in our circles, it’s rare to find friends you can truly trust. She’s one of the few.” As she spoke, she tossed the used paper towel into the bin.

“Zhanghua is someone worthy of others’ trust.” I agree with a nod.

Lu Changyi smiled but said nothing. She walked towards me, seemingly ready to leave. Just as she brushed by, she suddenly stopped.

As I was still surprised by her sudden halt, she rested her right hand on my shoulder, her lips stopping just an inch from my ear, and she whispered, “I don’t know if you really lost your memories or you’re faking it. But if you hurt her, I’ll hurt you.”

I was startled, only understanding what she was saying a second later, but by then, she was already walking away.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I called after her, looking at her back, pissed off by her blunt words.

“It means exactly what I said.” She waved without turning back, ignoring me as she left the restroom.

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Lost and Found– Chapter 4

Home Life

In the days that followed, I began to live a life reminiscent of an elderly person. These days could also be known as “Zhanghua said.”

Zhanghua said that I couldn’t handle the work of a deputy manager in my current state, so I took a six-month unpaid leave. All the paperwork was done at home, signed by me and her. 

Zhanghua said the reason I got sick was that I was too stressed, so I needed to relax and have a healthier, more regular lifestyle, so I went to bed early and got up early. The rest of my time was spent browsing the internet, catching up on things that I had missed over the past seven years, like news, events, and movies. While I was doing that, I noticed that I didn’t lose all my memories. I still had some memories of the major events that happened over the past few years, and funnily enough, I didn’t remember much of the events that happened a decade ago. I had no problem remembering the chronological order of the events but the exact years in which they occurred were rather hazy. 

Zhanghua said that I had to exercise regularly, so I would go for a jog in the nearby park every day at four-thirty in the afternoon and pick up groceries on the way back. I would prepare dinner because Zhanghua said, “You take care of dinner. I don’t know how to cook…”

There were many instances of “Zhanghua said.” From my first impression of her, I could never have imagined she had this side to her. She would often casually mention things in our conversations, as though she suddenly remembered she had something to tell me, but you would soon realize that these seemingly passing remarks would quickly turn into the basis of her strict supervision. 

For instance, one day, I was up well past one at night watching a TV series in the living room. I saw her coming out of her room, her arms crossed in front of her chest, leaning against the wall in the hallway, and staring at me with a deadpan face. 

I said, “It’ll be over in about twenty minutes.”

She asked, “So what time do you want to get up tomorrow, and what time are you going to bed tomorrow night?”

Normally, this tone would have sparked the rebellious streak in me, but considering how easygoing she usually was, and seeing her clearly upset face, I realized it was for my own good anyway. I touched my nose, switched off the TV, got up, and went back to my room. 

The next day, Zhanghua acted like her usual self, but I couldn’t stand it anymore; I felt the need to fight for some basic rights for myself. 

I prepared some of her favorite dishes for dinner, making sure she could shake off the bad mood from the day before. Once we had devoured most of the food on the table, her sufficiently buttered up, I said, “Zhanghua, I’m turning twenty-nine this year, right?”

“Didn’t you say you are only twenty-two?” Zhanghua was in a good mood. Her lips were curled. She seemed intrigued by my opening, poking fun at me while she brought a glass of water from the kitchen, and sat back down, waiting to hear what I had to say next. 

“Ahem,” I began, “that’s not the point.”

“And the point is?”

“The point is, for a citizen who has reached twenty years of age, both in body and mind, we should respect her freedom of choice.” Seeing her cast me a sidelong glance, I added, “At certain times.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she nodded, adding, “at certain times.” When she said that, I knew my specially prepared dinner had gone to waste. 

In time, I came to understand Zhanghua’s personality. Anything she considered unimportant, there was no limit to how much she would give in, but when it came to things she cared about, she would never back down. These days, she seemed to assume the role of my guardian, so my life went on with a cycle of fighting for myself and making compromises. 

It wasn’t easy for her either. If I were to put myself in her shoes, I doubted I would act as rationally as her. I wondered what it would feel like to have your partner wake up one day and forget about you. So far, she had made me feel at home. I felt comfortable and at ease around her and free to do anything in front of her. But this closeness was something closer to that of a roommate or best friend. Perhaps that was why I kept giving in to her because I always had the feeling that I owed her something. 

Although I was avoiding facing my relationship with Zhanghua, it didn’t mean I wasn’t curious about my past seven years. Quite the opposite, I desperately wanted to restore those memories or, at least, know what had happened. The feeling of having a blank period in my memories was awful. Dr. Liu told me amnesia was rare, and its causes varied widely. Many patients lost their memories because of major trauma, but there were also cases like mine, where they lost their memories overnight for no apparent reason. I believed there could be no wave without wind. So what kind of stress or trauma could make a person rather bury the past?

Zhanghua wasn’t against me trying, but neither did she encourage me to dig into the past. She said—yes, another “Zhanghua said”—that since I would forget the past, it meant that my mind or my body had perceived some kind of threat, and it triggered a response, so what I should do was to relax before easing myself into contact with the people and things from my past and gradually accepting who I used to be. Perhaps one day, my memories would return on their own. 

I was with her in the study when she said that, studying my laptop together. Unfortunately, my old laptop from seven years ago still ran on Windows XP, and I had absolutely no idea what password I—seven years later—had chosen for Windows 8. I tried the few usual combinations and failed, then I tried my birthday, ID number, phone number, English name, and online usernames. I even called Zhanghua over and asked for the same information from her and tried again with them. By the end of it, I was one failed attempt away from smashing the laptop. 

On top of my previous failed attempts to unlock my smartphone, I couldn’t help but grumble about my past self to her, “What kind of person was I, the me you know? How is she so different from who I know?” Even the login password had become a mystery. 

She just smiled without answering and shut the laptop for me, and instead pulled out a few stacks of paper records related to my past from the bookshelf for me to look at—photos, written notes, and official documents. Over the next few days, I went through these things, and with her explanations, I began to piece together my relationships with some friends over the past few years. 

Perhaps I had strained my brain trying to dig into my past. I couldn’t sleep that night. I didn’t get up to turn on the light. I was just lying in the dark and turning over more possible password combinations in my head when the bedroom door creaked open softly. 

A sliver of dim amber light seeped through the crack. Zhanghua called my name softly a few times. Maybe it was the mood of the moment, I didn’t answer. I kept my eyes shut, pretending to be asleep. Her soft footsteps moved towards the bedside. I tried to slow my breathing, but my heart beat faster on its own. Her footsteps stopped by my bedside, and then I felt a slight dip near my pillow. It seemed she had rested her hand there. I felt her fingers brushing the hair from my forehead. Then after a long while, so long that I began to wonder if she had already left the room, she spoke. 

“Ruwei.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, sounding a little nasal. “How could you just forget me?”

“I want to know too. What kind of person was the you I knew?”

“I must’ve failed so terribly that you’d rather forget me.”

Another silence followed, and then she left my room. That night, with emotions churning in me, I couldn’t fall asleep. 

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Lost and Found– Chapter 3

Home

The five-day hospital stay had ended. I had scheduled a follow-up appointment with the doctor. It was still Zhanghua who came to pick me up from the hospital. She insisted that I call her that, saying that calling her Miss Xie or Xie Zhanghua felt too distant. 

According to her, she and I were in a relationship, and we were currently living together. Perhaps my reaction had been pretty calm before, when I asked her about our relationship, except for the pause before she spoke, her tone was gentle, as if she was describing something ordinary, but inside I was in turmoil, as shocked as when I first learned I had lost my memory. I couldn’t deny that I hadn’t been attracted to any man as far as I could remember, but that didn’t mean that I was ready to fall in love with a woman. Now I was suddenly being told that I had fallen for one and was living with her, that it estranged my family from me, and on top of it all, I had mysteriously lost my memory—Could this get any more cliche?

I didn’t think Zhanghua was lying to me. It wasn’t some subconscious feeling of familiarity that led me to that conclusion. I really had no memory of her, and her whole demeanor gave off this sense of candor. She wasn’t a talkative person; that’s why when she spoke, her words were taken seriously. 

I had the feeling of not knowing how to face her. She was a stranger who was once the closest person to me, but still, a stranger. 

As I had come to realize over the past few days, Zhanghua wasn’t much of a talker, but if I asked her to explain something, she would do it meticulously, without the slightest sign of irritation. On our way back from the hospital to what she called “our home,” she told me briefly about how we met when I asked her. She explained that she first got to know me two years after I officially started working in the company. At that time, she had just been transferred from Tianye Group, the parent company of Saiye Technologies, to serve as the general manager, intending to resolve the power struggle that was causing the company’s stagnation. She needed someone who understood the company but wasn’t deeply involved in any of the factions to be her assistant. Then she discovered me, who was working in HR at that time, and promoted me to be her executive assistant. 

Somehow accepting reality, I asked, “So I basically rose from obscurity by rubbing elbows with the right person?” 

She nodded. “As far as I know, that’s what a lot of people said, especially those from your old department.”

Half-jokingly, I replied, “No wonder the looks I got when I walked into HR the other day stressed me out. It made me feel like fainting and running away. Turns out there’s a reason.”

Zhanghua gave me a wry smile.

I asked again, “So what’s the story behind this ‘DM Qiu’ title?”

“DM of Marketing, promoted two years ago,” answered Zhanghua.

Perplexed, I asked, “How come it’s not DM of HR?”

Zhanghua’s answer was straightforward, “If your subordinates used to be your bosses, you wouldn’t be able to manage them.”

A deputy manager at 27? Although Zhanghua didn’t strike me as someone who played favorites, I still couldn’t picture myself as some high-flying, confident deputy manager of marketing. Could it be that I lost my memory because of too much stress at work?

I voiced my doubt right away, and Zhanghua replied, “You underestimate yourself.”

Looking at her side profile, I felt that there was something more to her expression as she spoke. I wanted to ask how we ended up together, but I thought better of it. Since I had no intention of having an intimate relationship with her, why bring up the topic and make things complicated? Honestly, I felt that playing dead on this matter was the best approach for both of us at the moment.  

“Our home” was a luxurious apartment located in an upscale residential area. It was spacious just for the two of us, with four rooms—one master bedroom, two guest rooms, a study—and two living areas, decorated in a minimalist European style in shades of black, brown, and white. There were a lot of personal items in the living space, tastefully arranged. Overall, the space felt lived-in.

Perhaps Dr. Liu had mentally prepared her over the past five days. Zhanghua seemed to have come to terms with my condition and treated me like a first-time visitor. She showed me around the house, explaining where things were and how to use them, eventually settling me into the guest room adjacent to the master bedroom. 

After moving some of what she claimed were my personal belongings into the room, she ordered takeout, and we shared dinner. Later, we watched a bit of television together. Throughout that time, we tacitly stuck to talking about current events, steering clear of anything personal.

After we had both retired to our separate rooms for the night, I lay in bed with my eyes closed, letting out a long breath. During our time together that evening, Zhanghua seemed to have held back on her words many times and sometimes deliberately changed the subject, obviously holding back from saying anything that might make us both uncomfortable. I could sense her weariness, but so was I. Aside from a few familiar objects and some furniture and things that suited my taste, everything in this expensive house, including the woman herself, felt alien to me.

You just need time to get used to it, I told myself. 

Yes, the doctor had said that there was still a chance my memory might return, and even if they didn’t, the unfamiliar would become familiar with time. That would be true for the house and the same for Zhanghua… except for the love part. After I found out we had once been a couple, I had tried to imagine what it was like to be with her, what a hug or a kiss might feel like, but no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t.

Time. Time can fix everything. You have to be patient, don’t panic, don’t be afraid. Everything will be alright. Like a mantra, I repeated this to myself until I fell asleep.

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Lost and Found– Chapter 2

Hospital

When I woke up again, I was already in the hospital. A private room, and of course, there was only one bed. 

To my surprise, the person keeping watch over me was the woman I saw before I fainted. She was sitting with her back to me at the desk in the room, in the same outfit as when I saw her. She was staring intently at her laptop, occasionally glancing at the few documents beside it, and from time to time, jotting something down on them with a pen. 

I lay there looking at her back. I thought long and hard and was sure that I didn’t know her. The woman wasn’t particularly striking and was on the slim side, but she had a unique aura. There was a strong sense of confidence about her, yet not in a way that felt domineering. At first glance, she seemed approachable, but when you tried to get closer, there was a sense of distance. It was a feeling that was hard to describe but one that was unforgettable.

Perhaps I made a sound when I sat up because she turned to me. When she saw that I was awake, she put aside her work and walked over to me. 

“You’re up. Are you feeling alright?” She asked with concern. 

I felt mentally fine, so I shook my head and asked her, “How long have I been out?”

“The whole morning. It’s already past lunchtime now. Do you want something to eat?”

Having skipped two meals, I was starving, but there was a question more pressing than food, “Who are you? And why are you taking care of me?”

She opened her mouth in disbelief. She took a deep breath and asked instead, “So, you weren’t joking this morning? You honestly don’t know why we’re calling you DM Qiu?”

I nodded.

“You still know who you are, right?”

“Qiu Ruwei, 22 years old, new employee in the HR department of Saiye Technologies?” But her reaction unsettled me. I started to doubt the answer that I was so sure of.

Upon hearing my answer, she immediately turned around, left the room, and called for the doctor.

What followed was three days of extensive physical and psychological tests, with a special attention to my brain. During those three days in the hospital, no one else came to visit me. She was my only visitor, and I gradually came out of shock and began to come to terms with the doctor’s diagnosis and her explanation.

To put it simply, I had a condition that seemed to only exist in novels and movies, the legendary amnesia. I had lost all memories of the past seven years. The doctor said there was no physical trauma to my brain, and based on a series of psychological assessments, his preliminary diagnosis was dissociative amnesia, a type of psychogenic amnesia caused by psychological factors. 

Was it the dissociative amnesia that caused me to forget the past seven years, or was it because I lost seven years of my memories that they diagnosed me with this peculiar condition? The chicken-or-egg paradox wasn’t something I had the strength for at the moment. What shook me the most was how everything had changed overnight. 

Xie Zhanghua—that was the woman’s name. She showed me all kinds of my identification documents, pointed to the calendar on the hospital wall—not something that could have been forged just for me—she even asked me to ask passersby what day it was, and finally she had me watch the news on the television. There was a report in the news on the upcoming 2013 Punch Music Festival, the largest music event in Yun. There was no denying it anymore. 

Staring at myself in the mirror, noticeably older than I remembered, I smiled wryly. I never thought I would wake up in 2013 after a sleep. Is this how it feels like to wake up and realize it was all a dream? 

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Lost and Found– Chapter 1

Work

“Miss, are you alright?” Someone was patting my face. I fought to open my eyes. 

In front of me was a middle-aged woman carrying bags of groceries, half-bent over me. Next to her stood a few young students, looking at me with concern while I lay slanted on the seat of the bus stop by the main road.

I shook my head and sat up. It seemed like I had passed out. My head was spinning, my mind muddled.

“Thank you. I’m much better now. I think I’ll be fine. Just a little anemic, probably from staying up late last night and skipping breakfast this morning,” I said gratefully. 

The few students around me waiting for the bus left. The woman with groceries stayed by my side for a while longer. After making sure I was okay, she chatted with me for a bit before she took the bus and left.

I got up and tapped my feet, still feeling a little light-headed, so I stayed at the bus stop for another ten minutes. After making sure I was fine, I got on the bus 198. 

Being late for an hour without reason. Not good, especially for a new employee who is only halfway through her three-month probation period. Standing before the company building, I took a deep breath and stepped into the lobby. 

Saiye Technologies was a subsidiary of the multinational corporation Tianye Group that came to Yun to expand their business. They specialized in the sales of their own electronic products. Founded in Tanghe City less than two years ago, it hadn’t been a smooth ride for the company, primarily due to fierce infighting among its three deputy managers who respectively belonged to three factions—local, parent company, and parachute hire. As a newcomer still in the probation period, I figured they would be too busy to pay attention to me and let me off the hook.

As I passed by the reception desk, I couldn’t help but frown. Something seemed off. The receptionist wasn’t the usual Wang Linlin, but a new girl I had never seen before. When the girl saw me, she stood up and was about to say something, perhaps to explain why they had changed the receptionist. I pointed to my watch and said, “I’m running late. I’ll go in first. Whatever it is, we’ll talk about it later.”

The girl hesitated, “But…”

I waved her off and got on the elevator. I didn’t know why, but something felt off from the moment I stepped into the company. Before I could figure it out, I had reached the fourth floor, my workplace, the human resource department of Saiye Technologies.

After stepping out of the elevator, I made a beeline for my seat, but the further I walked down the hallway, the stranger everything felt. More and more people were staring at me, and the air in the office seemed to have frozen. Some of them looked puzzled, most seemed surprised. What made my heart race was that I barely recognized half the people in the office. The ones I did recognize now seemed unfamiliar. Yes, unfamiliar. Everything from their hairstyles to their clothing seemed different, as if everyone had changed overnight. 

The thought scared me, as if something terrible was happening to me. I forced myself not to think about it. I lowered my head and quickened my pace, wanting to get to my seat quickly. Before I even reached my cubicle, I saw someone was already sitting in my seat. It was a young man I didn’t recognize, having breakfast while typing away at his computer.  Not a single item on the desk belonged to me. He looked at me in confusion, probably wondering why I was standing there.

A wave of confusion washed over me. I had to face the truth—this was still Saiye Technologies, but no longer the Saiye Technologies I had known. 

What exactly is going on? I told myself to stay calm and think back on everything that happened today, but whenever I tried to recall, my head started to hurt. 

“Deputy Manager Qiu, what an honor to see you. Why didn’t you let me know you’re dropping by?” A familiar voice came from a private room in the office area. I looked up and saw my colleague from the same intake, Li Yanshuo. But… he had changed too. His crew cut had become an undercut. He looked more mature, but his tone carried a bitter sarcasm. 

My head was feeling a little heavy. Was it because I wasn’t feeling well this morning, or was I dreaming? I leaned against the cubicle divider to keep myself standing. Ignoring the barb in Li Yanshuo’s words, I asked, “Li Yanshuo? What’s going on here? Why did you call me Deputy Manager?”

I pointed at the stranger sitting in my seat and asked, “Why is he sitting in my seat?” After a moment’s thought, I asked again, “Why do you look different?”

Li Yanshuo gave me a strange look, as if I had said something ridiculous. I knew my question sounded absurd, but I didn’t know how else to ask. 

“Deputy Manager Qiu, you really have a sense of humor.” He forced a laugh and said, “You’ve been promoted and left this department for years now. What made you suddenly feel like putting on an act today?”

“An act? What act?” I muttered. The intense dizziness I had experienced this morning returned, and I felt worse by the second. Something was definitely wrong. I told myself that this wasn’t the time to figure things out. I should go home and rest for a day, and maybe then go see a doctor. 

“I’m not feeling well. I’m going home,” I said to him, unable to process what Li Yanshuo had just said. I turned around and was about to leave the office. 

At some point, a woman in a business suit had appeared at the doorway. She looked to be in her early thirties, and behind her stood a younger woman who looked like her secretary. 

“DM Qiu,” she addressed me the same way, her voice slightly deep and very pleasant to hear. She looked at me with the same strange expression as Li Yanshuo, but with a hint of concern. As I looked at her, it was as if the last string in my mind snapped. It felt like I was struck by something, and a buzzing sound went off in my head. 

Then, there was no “then” because I fainted.

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