HE  opens his eyes to the scarlet of a sunset sky, to the whistle of gentle wind through the grass he rests on. The scenery’s familiarity tells him it must be another one of those strange dreams, for these are clearly the hills of Liyue. The landscape is like that of somewhere to the northeast of Jueyun Karst, but not so far as Qingce village—he knows that from the body of water he sees not too far off in the distance, that would separate the two masses of land from one another.
And he tries to recall what memory could involve such exhaustion, where it has him laid against a tree to catch his breath, bone weary with a wicker basket of herbs at his side. The setting sun says his day of herb gathering should be coming to its end, that Wangshu Inn should be his next destination lest he resort to setting up camp, and yet the doctor finds that he is simply unable to get up.
Eyes blink a few more times, forcefully, as though to fight back some of the tiredness seeping into his body. As he does, a shape takes form at his feet——
And it gazes back at him through unkept hair, beneath one of many a talisman stuck to her body.
Qiqi.
Just like that, he knows precisely what memory this is.
But does she know? There’s no trace of recognition in the way she looks at him. With her memory so poor, would she have the awareness to know that this is, in fact, a dream?
She looks to his wicker basket; Baizhu does the same, before panning his gaze back to her.
    ❝ Ah. My basket? I’m gathering herbs, you see. ❞
@resurrectiun​  —— dreamscape!
Qiqi has slept for a great deal of time. She does not remember if she has dreamed. The events of the past are somewhat, somehow, fresher in her mind than they were before. It is still hazy, but the pieces are there.
A crash, a wish, an apology... a great surge of power, and then... she awoke. She broke free from the amber she had been entombed in, and then she fled, all on her own.
She doesn’t know what would have laid in wait for her if she had stayed, but each and every time she thinks back, a sour feeling wells up in her stomach. She does not remember what this feeling is called, but if someone wiser were to put a name to it, it would be dread. What she does know, what she does remember, is that she ought to trust it. That is why she squirreled herself away, but it is not what led her here.
No, what led her here was something different.
It is something she remembers, not so much a memory though... no, this would be a habit of some sort. She remembers doing this. She has done it many times before. It is not one sole memory that guides her, but something ingrained in her. Though time has certainly passed since she has been here ( perhaps she does not realize it yet, but the earth has shifted ever so slightly in the hundreds of years since she last walked here. ) But it is still familiar, it is still Liyue. That’s right. That’s where this is. It’s nice to remember it, but how could she possibly have forgotten...?
As she retraces her path toward the hills, with every intention to return to her old ways, as usual, she spots someone else. She has been good to avoid people thus far, lest they realize she is missing and return her to the amber, but she is far away enough from that place now to worry about that. And this path... she has little intention of deviating from it. She remembers going this way, so this way she shall go. When she approaches, she sees the basket that rests by his side. Coincidently, it appears to hold a number of herbs. When he makes note of her fixation on them, he reveals he has done exactly what she has set out to do. Has he already beaten her to them, then?
   “Mm. Me too.” She doesn’t have a basket though. Truth be told, she doesn’t have a lot of things. All she has is what she remembers, and what she remembers is... very little. Even as she eyes his basket, the herbs it holds all seem to blend in with one another in her mind. She doesn’t remember the difference between them, nor could she recount their uses. She doesn’t even remember why she feels so compelled to gather herbs herself, she just knows she is to gather them, for that is what she has always done.
Why would that change? Why should it change?
   “...You seem tired.” She notes with a tilt of her head, though her voice lacks the kind of concern an observation like that would have.  “Did you have a hard time scaling the cliffs?”
