Usually, it was her who took the initiative to talk to him. This sudden "enlightenment" indeed made her, a close friend of his, feel uncomfortable.
On his end, after seeing off this newly acquainted but "three-year-old" friend in memory, he began to reflect on the memories that incessantly surfaced during his exchange with Aprile Clark, particularly sparked by the mention of the name "Paul."
"Paul Pierce? Is it that Pierce, or just a coincidence with the same name?"
Regarding the memories of Aprile Clark, all that the original owner of this body could recall had already surfaced. She was a sophomore representative responsible for welcoming foreign exchange students when he first arrived in the US, so enthusiastic that she was assigned this task. Thus, she was one of the first people he met in the US. Later, after finishing his freshman year, he jumped straight to senior year. Other than her, he also met the teacher that day, the airport security, and the landlady of this apartment, a Black auntie…
Now, it's after lunch, and people are continuously coming out of the apartment. He watched the variously colored high school students leaving; those he "knew" he would greet with a word. Suddenly, images of acquaintance popped into his mind, and he instinctively responded. Almost everyone seemed surprised. Americans naturally greet acquaintances, but the original owner of this body was a reclusive exchange student who usually didn't respond. Today, he surprisingly did, though no one paid much attention, thinking he might be in a good mood.
However, he felt strange. It seemed that "he" was quite solitary, so why did so many people proactively greet him...most of them girls?
Nonetheless, the memories that originally existed in this body made everything seem so familiar now; everything felt so natural.
But he was very clear that this was not the world he originally came from!
For the past three years, he had been lying in a hospital bed. After two years of work following his university graduation, his career had just gotten on track when one day, he suddenly collapsed and was diagnosed with a terminal illness. The first year was alright, but by the second year, his limbs began to stiffen, and eventually, even his senses started to fade. Each day, he could do nothing but lie down and watch TV or read, until even those became impossible… Then one day, he awoke to find himself standing here.
Each time he saw a "familiar face," a segment of memory would trigger in his mind, endlessly stimulating his brain. It must be the memory of this body, informing him of things he ought to know; yet, during interactions, he communicated with a tone and habits not belonging to the true owner of this segment of memory...
Gradually, he began to lose confidence—was this really not his original world?
The original memories differed greatly from the ones that kept pouring in, resulting in a tearing sensation in his brain.
Perhaps due to the increasing number of "stimulations," suddenly, instead of occasionally surfacing some memories not belonging to him, they poured in like a tsunami, hitting with such intensity that he fainted. Before losing consciousness, he saw a chubby black youngster emerging from the apartment entrance, stunned by his collapse but then quickly rushing over…
...
Zhang Hao felt like he had dreamt two immensely long dreams, where two sets of memories intertwined and overlapped. Though no definite primary or secondary, he could clearly discern the differences between the two memories. The fusion of memories eventually settled—he was now supposedly in the 1990s, in a small town called Inglewood in Los Angeles, United States, and he was Zhang Hao. As for who he originally was, it was no longer important, because he was already in this world, in this era.
Gradually, that tearing feeling dissipated as Zhang Hao understood the current situation.
After the memory fusion, he quickly awoke. Indeed, he was not in a hospital; it seemed like his bedroom… No, wait! Why wasn't he in a hospital? Didn't he faint?
"Didn't I pass out? Why am I not in the hospital? Paul, that guy is unreliable… Wait, no… It's good that I didn't go to the hospital!"
Looking at the current situation, he seemed to have hired a family doctor. Although not cheap, hiring one for a minor cold could cost him a week's living expenses.
But anyway, compared to hospital diagnostic fees, it was cheaper, and he wouldn't have to cough up a thousand for ambulance fees, nor thousands or even tens of thousands for various tests and medications.
As for public hospitals, forget about it; waiting in line long enough would mean either no need for treatment, or no treatment at all.
Family doctors are very common in the United States, mostly hospital doctors taking side jobs. In fact, family doctors are often more attentive and patient than they are in hospitals.
Zhang Hao was incredibly relieved not to have gone to a hospital, shivering with joy as he suddenly sat up straight. The chubby black dude reading comics beside the bed almost fell off the chair.
"Aix, you're finally awake. You scared me to death. I just came out and saw you collapse. The doctor said you were fine, just too stressed. I told you, why think so much? If UCLA doesn't want you, try another school, no big deal. Gosh, I don't even want to go to UCLA... Ahem, Aix, don't be too anxious. Exercising every day like this, your body can't handle it. There'll always be opportunities. Even though your body is strong, crippling stress will get to you. Luckily, you're okay this time. The doctor said the coma was due to excessive mental tension, stressing that you need to…"
Looking at the chubby fellow before him, Zhang Hao felt a little annoyed in the ears, vaguely recognising the Celtics' future team soul, Paul Pierce, from his memories. But why was he so fat?
Moreover, was Team Pi actually a chatterbox? What happened to the proud and aloof Phoenix who survived eleven stab wounds? Could it be that this guy provoked others with his chattering, leading to the stabbing… Oh right, this guy has always been a talker!
The discrepancy in impressions of Pierce from two memories immediately presented itself, but Zhang Hao quickly sorted it out. Naturally, such situations would occur initially, yet over time, he would skillfully distinguish between the "now" and the "future." Zhang Hao realized that people and matters of this world should be judged using the exchange student's memories, whereas his future memories could serve as something to lean on! The only pity was that many things he remembered required capital; he couldn't recall high-return lottery-like matters.
Who in their right mind would remember such things?
But if he had some capital, many things could be achieved.
Pierce didn't know what Zhang Hao was secretly grumbling about. Otherwise, he'd definitely want to duel with this guy! He hated being called fat the most!
So what if he was fat? Even among California high schoolers, he was the number one basketball player!
Pierce was still in chatter mode. Zhang Hao knew the landlady's son very well. After moving into this apartment for less than two months, Pierce of the same age pestered him. Initially, it was because the landlady felt that this kid from a backward country across the ocean was too isolated, fearing that Zhang Hao might be bullied—while her own son was usually the one bullying others—so she had Pierce take care of Zhang Hao.
However, their personalities were complementary. Pierce was talkative, enthusiastic, and loyal, while Zhang Hao was reclusive but secretly yearned for friendship. One liked to talk and the other liked to listen. Naturally, they became friends.
Ignoring Pierce who couldn't stop once his talk-box opened, Zhang Hao focused his mind, and a text popped up before his eyes… Piercing a glance at Pierce beside him, the latter was oblivious to it, causing Zhang Hao to breathe a sigh of relief.
In such situations, he would never think of sharing the occasion with others. A secret, once told to others as a so-called agreement, can no longer be termed a secret. A secret, once emerging, is bound to be known by someone.
Such matters mustn't be disclosed to anyone!
Thinking about how Pierce must have stayed up all night last night, Zhang Hao felt a bit touched… however, as he observed the evolving content of the text, a pang hit his heart.
"Remaining life: 365 days, usable life: 364 days."
After handling Pierce briefly, Zhang Hao made an excuse to rest and, after sending Pierce off, began to organize the current situation.