Yan Sui’s purchases arrived faster than she had imagined.
By the time she returned to her dormitory, arms full of packages, the sky had already darkened.
The dormitory door had a fingerprint lock, but the dorm supervisor also kept a spare mechanical key.
Yan Sui opened the door, and a long strand of hair slowly drifted down from the gap, landing on the floor.
She stared at the strand of hair for a moment before stepping inside.
Today, it seemed no one had intruded.
After putting away her things, her desk transformed into a small experimental station.
The notebook she had always either carried with her or locked away in a cabinet was finally spread open on the table.
The young girl curled her lips into a faint smile.
At least she still had a somewhat private space.
She buried herself in her work.
When doing something she was interested in, it was always easy to stay focused.
By the time Yan Sui rubbed her eyes and looked up again, the crescent moon had already risen halfway into the sky.
She yawned and tore up the densely scribbled draft paper beside her.
The results were quite fruitful.
Perhaps due to fatigue, she suddenly felt a wave of dizziness.
Her dark eyes reflected no light under the desk lamp.
It wasn’t until a sharp pain shot through her wrist that she jolted back to reality.
She hadn’t been wearing gloves, and corrosive liquid had dripped from a test tube onto her skin, instantly burning a patch.
The young girl carelessly grabbed a tissue and wiped the area.
The burned skin immediately peeled off, and blood began to flow.
She wiped harder, the pain sharpening, and the blood seemed unstoppable.
Her dark eyes fixed on the wound, irritation flickering in her gaze.
She wiped again, harder.
Why wouldn’t the bleeding stop?
Frustrated, she threw the blood-stained tissue aside and stood up abruptly.
The sound of the chair scraping against the floor suddenly felt unbearably harsh.
“Thump, thump, thump.”
Her heartbeat inexplicably amplified, each beat exploding against her eardrums.
Panic struck without warning.
It felt as though something was constricting her, the oxygen in her lungs rapidly depleting.
Stumbling, she threw herself onto the bed, and a gentle voice suddenly echoed in her ears.
She couldn’t tell if it was real or a dream.
“Suisui, my baby, I love you.”
The voice was initially tinged with laughter.
But soon, it broke into sobs and hysterical anguish.
Yan Sui’s eyes lost focus, her hands unconsciously gripping the fresh wound.
“Mom? Where are you?”
In her daze, she saw that face again, close to hers, smiling as it kissed her forehead.
But the next moment, the face rapidly withered and decayed.
“Mom.” Panic seized her, her heart aching as if tightly squeezed.
Indescribable fear and a sense of near-death surged like a tide, overwhelming her and dragging her into the depths of the sea.
Yet, the next second, those sensations rapidly faded and detached.
Emotions and pain vanished without a trace.
Yan Sui felt as though she was looking at herself on the bed.
Hair soaked in sweat, veins bulging, curled up and trembling, tears streaming down her face.
The walls of the room began to recede, space and time pulling away.
She stared at herself expressionlessly, unable to feel any empathy.
It was as if she had become pure rationality, slowly telling herself—
Just a panic attack. It’ll pass soon.
An hour later, the young girl fell off the bed, stumbled to the bathroom, and vomited with a violent “wah.”
Physiological vomiting brought on physiological tears.
She washed her face and wrote in her notebook.
【Triggering traumatic memories, palpitations, near-death experiences, dissociation…】
Her hand was still trembling, making the characters somewhat messy.
【Saw Mom again】 As she wrote this line, she paused for a moment, then forcefully crossed it out.
She collapsed on the floor for a while, adjusting her breathing, before realizing her back was already soaked in cold sweat.
The intense, stinging pain on her wrist finally began to sharpen.
The wound wasn’t small, and even the slightest touch made her tremble uncontrollably.
She couldn’t help but hiss in pain, then laughed—
It really hurt.
Jiang Yuan sat on the sofa, the dim light casting half his face in shadow.
He lowered his gaze, staring at his palm, lost in thought.
A knock sounded at the door, and a young man pushed it open.
“Finally done for the day?”
Song Ming’an sat down on the sofa across from him, glancing at the time.
“It’s midnight. In theory, you should be asleep by now.”
“You look a little better. Have there been any changes lately?”
Jiang Yuan slowly looked up, his voice hoarse and tone flat:
“The new medication is effective. The episodes are milder than last week, I can sleep at night, and the self-harm behavior has stopped.”
Song Ming’an nodded, taking notes.
Although Jiang Yuan was severely ill, as a patient, his level of cooperation was exemplary.
“Now, about that variable of yours—I don’t know if it’s a person, an object, or an event. Tell me your thoughts.”
Jiang Yuan’s pupils trembled slightly, his fingers unconsciously curling.
“I still can’t control the urge to get closer, but thankfully, it hasn’t affected her.”
Song Ming’an sensed something keenly: “This variable, is it a person? You desire to get closer to this person, but rationally, you force yourself to stay away?”
Jiang Yuan frowned, trying hard to remain patient as he nodded. “Yes.”
Song Ming’an raised an eyebrow in surprise and drew a large circle around the word “variable” in his notebook.
The number of people Jiang Yuan cared about could be counted on one hand, and every one of them was someone he deeply hated and had long since dealt with.
After a moment of thought, he tentatively asked, “Also, when I suggested making the variable disappear before, you reacted strongly. So, you don’t want it to disappear. You don’t hate it. You desire to get closer. Is it possessiveness? This is the first time I’ve seen this.”
Jiang Yuan abruptly looked up, his gaze cold and piercing as it met Song Ming’an’s eyes.
Song Ming’an fell silent, lowering his voice. “I understand. Let’s not talk about this. We’ll change the subject.”
“Over this period, aside from the change in medication I prescribed, do you feel there have been any other changes in yourself?”
Jiang Yuan tugged at his collar. “Getting closer and closer…”
“What?”
“Getting closer and closer, but I’ll control it. It will never be discovered.” He sounded more like he was talking to himself.
Song Ming’an was taken aback, taking a deep breath.
The study fell silent as he carefully considered his words.
Finally, he spoke calmly:
“Jiang Yuan, your condition has improved slightly over this period. Have you ever considered that it might be because you’re ‘getting closer and closer,’ rather than due to the medication?”
Jiang Yuan instinctively retorted, “Impossible.”
Song Ming’an stared at him. “Actually, I didn’t increase your dosage at all last time.”