The moment Ruan Luo opened his eyes, Fu Yu withdrew his arm from around him.
He straightened up and stood, and while Ruan Luo was still lost in a daze, his long legs carried him three meters away.
Song Qi placed the proposal booklet from his arms onto the bedside table, pushed up his glasses, and shot Fu Yu a sideways glance. You’re certainly mindful of your place.
Fu Yu turned and left the hospital room just as Ruan Luo turned his head to look at him.
He closed the door.
Leaning his back against the doorframe, he held a cigarette between his fingers, not lighting it, just holding it.
He’d finally woken up. Seeing him would be a minor disappointment, but triggering another stress response would be too hard on his body.
To his surprise, less than a minute after he stepped out, Song Qi followed him.
Song Qi braced himself and stared Fu Yu down. He’s awake, but something’s wrong.
What’s wrong?
Song Qi tapped his temple. Here.
Fu Yu’s brow furrowed. He tossed the cigarette into the trash can and turned back into the hospital room. Song Qi followed closely behind.
The room was deathly quiet. So quiet that the gentle rustle of the wind outside the window could be heard.
Ruan Luo sat alone on the edge of the bed, staring blankly at the faint, flickering shadows dancing behind the curtains.
The striped hospital gown he wore had been changed by Fu Yu after he’d wiped Ruan Luo’s body down.
Though it was a men’s small, it still hung loosely on him, unable to properly cover his slender shoulders. He was merely sitting askew, causing the left side of the gown to slip from his shoulder, revealing excessively pale skin and a wide expanse of collarbone.
Ruan Luo’s feet dangled on the floor, his hands gripping the edge of the bed. His swan-like neck was taut, his thin lips slightly parted. His expression was one of utter confusion.
Sensing the person who had stepped out returning, Ruan Luo whipped his head around.
His gaze fell upon Fu Yu’s face.
And then;
He scrambled back onto the bed.
He hugged his knees, curling himself into a ball.
At the same time, he swiftly pulled the blanket up, wrapping it around most of his body.
As if shrinking away a little more would prevent Fu Yu from sprouting fangs and claws and pouncing to gnaw off his toes.
Fu Yu: …
Fu Yu suppressed his anger and turned to Song Qi, his voice calm. If you dare tell me to scare him again, I’ll embed you in the wall.
Song Qi rubbed his nose. Is it those five Special-grade Inhibitors that made my noble boss lose his composure? I didn’t scare him. I asked you to come in because something is indeed wrong with Ruan Luo. He doesn’t recognize me, nor does he recognize himself.
Song Qi glanced up at Fu Yu. He’s afraid of you because of his body’s muscle memory. Being afraid of you doesn’t mean his mind is fine. If you don’t believe me, go ahead and ask him if he recognizes you.
Fu Yu looked at Ruan Luo and asked softly, Can I come closer? If you say no, I won’t move.
Ruan Luo pulled the blanket higher, leaving only his eyes visible as he watched Fu Yu. He didn’t nod, but he didn’t say no either.
A layer of mist just clouded his obsidian-black eyes.
Fu Yu immediately said, I won’t come closer.
Song Qi pushed up his gold-rimmed glasses. Are you getting addicted to playing the weasel? Are you going to listen to the patient or the doctor?
Song Qi’s expression was as if he’d just been fucked by a dog.
He stood up, pulled one of the plans from the folder, and left it on the nightstand. He then hugged the rest of the plans to his chest and said as he walked away, In this situation, there’s only one plan left. I need to do a physical exam as soon as possible to determine the cause. You coax him into eating something first. Don’t worry, he’s only afraid of you because of muscle memory. He doesn’t even know why he’s afraid of you, the source of his PTSD regarding you has been temporarily severed. In other words, he won’t have a stress response to you until he remembers you.
Song Qi sighed as he walked toward the door. Under these circumstances, you’re completely unfit to be his caregiver. You need to handle this carefully. If you don’t, he’ll be consumed by intense self-loathing when he wakes up, simply because he was submissive to you. That kind of emotion will send him straight to hell. It’s far worse than a stress response.
I’ll be careful, Fu Yu said.
Song Qi didn’t believe him. So, before leaving, he cast a pitying glance at Ruan Luo.
He silently apologized to Ruan Luo in his mind.
He apologized for being a mere mortal, unable to rescue the prey from the devil’s clutches, for he too was afraid of the devil. He could only fulfill his duty as a doctor, to save the dying and heal the injured. He could not be a savior.
After Song Qi left, Fu Yu asked Ruan Luo softly, Are you feeling uncomfortable anywhere?
Ruan Luo didn’t speak or move.
Fu Yu asked again, Can I get you a glass of warm water?
Ruan Luo finally reacted, nodding slightly.
Fu Yu rose, brought a glass of warm water, and tentatively held it out to Ruan Luo.
Ruan Luo hesitated for a moment before finally taking it.
Just as Fu Yu thought Ruan Luo had a firm grip and was about to pull his hand away, Ruan Luo suddenly asked, Are you the one counting sheep for me?
Fu Yu looked down at him. Yes.
Sensing Ruan Luo trembling slightly at his proximity, Fu Yu backed away and sat in the caregiver’s chair.
Ruan Luo looked at Fu Yu and fell silent.
Someone who counts sheep for me while I sleep must be a good person, he thought. So why am I so afraid of him?
He remembered hearing the man count all the way to three hundred before he’d drifted off.
Finally, Ruan Luo let go of the blanket.
Clutching the warm water cup, he leaned halfway out of bed to look at Fu Yu. Do you know who I am?
I do, Fu Yu replied, his voice deep.
Though Ruan Luo was utterly bewildered—even trembling with fear—his outward demeanor remained composed and poised. It was as if he refused to let anyone see the helplessness beneath his skin.
After Fu Yu answered, he even offered a graceful nod.
Fu Yu watched him. He’s forgotten who he is, yet he hasn’t forgotten the pride etched into his very bones. The sight felt like a dull knife scraping against Fu Yu’s heart.
Ruan Luo took a sip of water. Are you close with me?
His voice was forcedly calm, and he drank with the elegance of a little crane straining its neck, taking tiny, measured sips, even though his lips were parched and cracked.
Perhaps, Fu Yu said. …Perhaps we are.
Can you take me home? Ruan Luo asked, one hand gripping his water cup, the other propping up his chin as he looked at Fu Yu. I can’t remember where my home is.
Fu Yu didn’t answer immediately.
Ruan Luo’s voice dropped, a hint of a nasal sniff escaping. Do I… not have a home?
Fu Yu’s eyes darkened as he thought of the parents who had sold their son for profit.
If the home Ruan Luo spoke of was the one his parents had given him, then he truly had none.
But Fu Yu said, You do have a home.
Ruan Luo smiled.
It was the first time Fu Yu had seen him smile.
Though he had seen countless beautiful people in his time, Fu Yu found himself stunned by Ruan Luo’s expression.
Will you take me home? Ruan Luo asked again. I don’t like it here.
Fu Yu gazed at him for a long moment.
The curve of Ruan Luo’s lips was forced, the smile never reaching his eyes. Instead, his gaze betrayed a hidden turmoil; bewilderment, anxiety.
Fu Yu saw right through him.
Ruan Luo was still terrified of him, utterly terrified, yet he was also the only one he had.
After a moment’s thought, Fu Yu spoke with earnest conviction. I will. Remember: your name is Ruan Luo, and mine is Fu Yu. Fu Yu will take Ruan Luo home.
It’s a mental illness, what psychology calls ‘dissociative disorder.’
A week later, on an afternoon when Fu Yu had coaxed Ruan Luo to sleep, Song Qi waved him into the office from the doorway and showed him Ruan Luo’s physical examination report.
His physical indicators are all below standard; he’s too weak. But that’s not a major issue; I’ve put together a recovery plan and a list of precautions. With these, you could even take him out of the hospital now. The main problems are two-fold. First, regarding his sexual characteristics: his pheromones are severely disrupted, a result of excessive use of suppressants… I’m guessing that’s your doing. He can’t use suppressants anymore; any more will ruin him. Then, there’s the most important issue,
What?
For the first time, Song Qi stared at Fu Yu with a grave, earnest expression, his tone devoid of any mockery or sarcasm. ‘Dissociation’ is the body’s last line of defense when a person’s mental world collapses. His dissociative state will last for two to three months. After that, he will return to how he was before; afraid of you, hating you. Most importantly: his stress response to you will return.
At this, Song Qi sat up straight. So, Fu Yu, seeing as you’ve already put him through so much… after these three months are up, let him go. Otherwise, he will truly die.
Song Qi pushed up his glasses and pulled a page from the report. Serotonin deficiency, severe. Fu Yu, he has depression. If you push him too hard, he will commit suicide.
Fu Yu placed the report on top of the thick medical file.
His voice was devoid of emotion, as if he hadn’t heard, yet as if he had known all along: Process the discharge papers.
Song Qi picked at his ear. What?
Fu Yu stood up, cradling the stack of documents, and looked down at Song Qi. Since he can leave, I’m taking him home. He doesn’t like it here.