Your name is Ye Qingxuan. You will lose a portion of your memory every few days. You should trust A’san. He will take you to your treatment.
"Ye Qingxuan?" the young man murmured blankly. "That name sounds so familiar. Ye Qingxuan? I’m Ye Qingxuan? I’m an Easterner?" He looked down and saw his reflection with trademark silvery-white hair in the water. His broken memories instantly reconnected. It dawned on him. "Is it…like this?"
"Yes, Young Master." Tears of joy appeared in the old Indian man’s eyes. "You finally re-re-remember."
Ye Qingxuan was stunned but he embraced A’san. He did not know what to do; there was just the feeling of pain and tension in his heart.
"Young Master, I’m gravely injured. I might not be able to accompany you anymore," A’san said in Ye Qingxuan’s embrace. "Next, you must be careful about others’ attacks…"
"A’san, get yourself together!" Ye Qingxuan could not help but panic. "I—What should I do?"