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He remembered who he was and the game changed . . .
***
Wang Yibo's POV
The moment I looked into the mirror, my reflection stared back.
Over my shoulder, her gaze caught mine, and for the first time, she did not look away, keeping us locked in that fracture of a moment.
Her emerald green eyes were deep like the forest keeping its secrets, she didn't smile, but I saw the hope shimmering inside her eyes as if she was trying to tell an old tale without words.
For some reason, it was like the time had stopped ticking, frozen.
My breath got kept halfway as I avoided blinking, scared she would disappear the moment I blinked with my eyes; after all, she had always been a dream appearance until now.
My eyelids felt heavy and were about to close any moment while I forced myself to stare back at her, inspecting her.
Her cheeks had a vibrant bright red colour as if she had run a marathon, her messy chestnut brown hair falling a bit in front of her eyes as her face held no emotions, yet her eyes told stories.
She looked just like I remembered her to be the last day I saw her, running through the abandoned forest, lost.
If I looked at her, I would probably say she was around my age, perhaps even younger, but something told me her appearance deceived me.
In silence, I listened to my own haggard breathing as I couldn't look away, a cold shiver running down my spine.
She was a total stranger, yet she felt so close to my heart.
I don't know where I knew her from, but I remembered fragments of dreams in which I saw us dancing under a blossom tree, the petals dancing around us as she laughed carefreely.
She wore ragged old clothes, dull and grey, unlike her dazzling smile and inviting eyes.
From one to another moment, another image popped up.
It was dark as if someone has put his hand in front of the sun, I turned around in my ashes as I heard footsteps approaching me, closer and closer, but I saw nobody.
The next moment, I was somewhere else again, a forest.
It was a closed forest; if I looked up, all I saw were trees branches touching each other, no light getting through, yet it was light.
When I turned around, she stood there; amidst a broad open path that was all darkness; she beckoned me as I stared at her, not moving.
This time, she wore a white dress with spectacles of gold that were like fireflies on her dress, her smile still as inviting and her eyes telling tales as she motioned for me again.
