[Machine Translation] My earliest memory is of being made to kneel in front of the household shrine at the age of three, being scolded by my parents and grandmother for stealing a 100-yuan bill. But is this memory even real...? In a corner of a certain Taiwanese city a seedy working-class neighborhood famous for its night markets and red-light district the three of us me, Yi-ya, and Ah-huang grew up. During the summer vacation of our twelfth year, we built a treehouse in a mango tree towering over the grounds of an abandoned house, and while gazing beyond the boundary line forbidden by the adults, we hatched a secret plan to escape this town. Time passed. After losing my job as a university professor of cryptography and devoting myself to caring for my young daughter, I received the news of the death of Yi-ya, who had gained fame as a pianist. I knew this day would come long ago," said Ah-huang. Inspired by his words, I began to unravel my past memories as if deciphering a code