The room was really too hot. Zhou Jingze tilted his head to suckle her earlobe, his cool, slender fingertips just hooking onto the thin shoulder straps. Xu Sui’s heart trembled, and when her eyes swept past the painting on the opposite wall through his shoulder, she inadvertently looked down and got startled.
Lord Kui and 1017, one large and one small, were sitting on the ground watching them, their eyes wide open in perfect circles.
Xu Sui’s face flushed red immediately. She pushed Zhou Jingze’s shoulder and gestured to him. Zhou Jingze turned around to see the German Shepherd and orange cat looking up at him with unblinking stares, their faces full of righteousness, as if he shouldn’t be doing such scandalous things at home in broad daylight.
“Tsk,” Zhou Jingze walked over and picked up the fat cat, his other hand grabbing the German Shepherd’s collar, “A single dog and a single cat, no need to be so jealous of me.”
Unexpectedly, 1017 was greatly stimulated by this comment. It jumped out of Zhou Jingze’s arms and ran straight to Xu Sui who was sitting on the sofa. When Zhou Jingze turned back to look for his target, he found the fat cat sitting steadily in his girlfriend’s arms, chin raised high with a triumphant expression.
“Don’t let me catch you,” Zhou Jingze raised his hand and pointed at it.
“Meow~” 1017 hissed at him, then immediately hid back in Xu Sui’s arms.
Xu Sui was delighted to see 1017, holding and playing with it constantly. After last semester ended, the dorm building where Xu Sui and her roommates lived had changed to a new dorm supervisor, so the cat had been staying with Zhou Jingze.
Before the two of them had confirmed their relationship, Xu Sui didn’t feel comfortable visiting him often.
Now it was good – it was their cat together.
The lighting in the room was really too dim, giving off a gloomy feeling. Xu Sui got up while holding the cat, turned on the lights, and pulled open the brown curtains. Light poured in, making everything bright and clear.
As Xu Sui was walking toward the sofa, passing by Zhou Jingze, her stomach made an untimely gurgling sound. Zhou Jingze had just opened the refrigerator door, and his hand holding the ice water paused. His other hand gently tugged the escaping Xu Sui back.
“Haven’t eaten?” Zhou Jingze raised an eyebrow, then closed the refrigerator door and started scrolling on his phone, “What do you want to eat?”
The takeout arrived quickly. Zhou Jingze had ordered from a private kitchen restaurant with exquisite dishes and aromatic flavors. He got up to take a carton of milk from the refrigerator, paused, then took it to the kitchen to heat it up.
Zhou Jingze sat back down on the sofa, handed the milk to Xu Sui, and took the disposable utensils from her hands to unwrap them for her. Xu Sui took them and ate a few bites, noticing that Zhou Jingze was slouched on the sofa like he had no bones, scrolling through his phone with a completely uninterested expression.
Xu Sui looked up at him: “Aren’t you eating?”
Zhou Jingze didn’t lift his head, his voice weary: “Don’t really feel like eating.”
Xu Sui knew he was in a bad mood and wanted him to eat something too. She unwrapped a new pair of chopsticks and handed them over, her voice gentle: “But I want you to eat a little with me.”
The air went still. The wall clock made ticking sounds. Zhou Jingze gripped his phone, his gaze finally willing to shift over. He tossed his phone aside, bent his waist slightly, reached out to pinch her face, his tone carrying a smile:
“Xu Sui, I discovered you’re quite good at acting cute.”
Xu Sui’s heart burned, and she quickly lowered her head, picking up a green bean and stuffing it in her mouth. A hand with clear bone structure pulled the chopsticks from her left hand, and a lazy voice vibrated near her ear:
“The key is that this old man actually enjoys it.”
After they finished eating, Zhou Jingze threw the food containers and garbage into the trash can. The two sat on the thick gray carpet together, playing games.
Xu Sui accompanied him in the living room playing games all afternoon, not mentioning his missed exam at all.
After the game ended, Zhou Jingze threw away the switch controller, raised his hand to rub his neck, and spoke: “Not going to ask about my missed exam?”
Xu Sui shook her head and looked up at him: “When you want to talk about it, you’ll tell me.”
“When I changed my major choice back then, it was completely out of spite,” Zhou Jingze propped his elbow on the floor, self-mockingly curving the corner of his mouth, “But when I was actually flying up in the sky, I kind of fell in love with it.”
“Once you get serious about something, you can’t accept your own failure.” Zhou Jingze opened a can of carbonated drink, tilted his head back to take a sip, his Adam’s apple rolling slowly.
Xu Sui nodded thoughtfully: “Give me some time. This obstacle of yours can be overcome.”
This illness had been with him for so many years since childhood. Whenever he encountered dark, enclosed spaces, he would have episodes. Zhou Jingze just took her words as the kind nature of a young girl and patted her head: “Okay.”
After leaving Zhou Jingze’s place, Xu Sui took the bus back to school. After returning to the dorm and washing up, the first thing she did was sit in front of her computer researching. Even after lights-out, she remained sitting there.
Hu Qianxi lay in her warm blankets, turned over, looked down at Xu Sui at the desk, and yawned: “Baby, aren’t you sleeping yet? Come to bed quickly, it’s cold down there.”
“It’s okay, I’ll be done soon,” Xu Sui replied gently.
Xu Sui looked up a lot of information and journal articles on her computer. They mentioned that claustrophobia had biological causes, genetic factors, and among other things – childhood environment and family education methods.
Zhou Jingze’s family… Xu Sui thought about the irreconcilable relationship she’d seen between him and his father, as well as what he’d said during that truth-telling game.
Before going to sleep, Xu Sui held her phone, hesitated for a moment, then asked: [Is your condition related to your childhood?]
Ten minutes later, zjz replied: [Yes.]
The next day, Xu Sui attended class with Liang Shuang. After they found seats, the teacher hadn’t arrived yet. Xu Sui sat in the third row, twirling a pen, then nudged her companion’s arm and asked: “Shuang Shuang, do you have contact information for that outstanding senior who came back to give a lecture last time?”
Seeing Liang Shuang’s confused expression, Xu Sui added: “The one who opened a psychological counseling clinic after graduating.”
“Oh oh, Guan Xiangfeng! His contact information is on the campus website homepage,” Liang Shuang put down her pencil case and smiled mysteriously at her, “But you asked the right person. A senior I’m close with has his private WeChat. I’ll send it to you later.”
“Thank you, Shuang Shuang.”
“You’re welcome.”
After class, back in the dorm, Liang Shuang really did get Guan Xiangfeng’s WeChat and sent it to her. Xu Sui clicked add, with a very polite verification message: Hello Senior, I’m Xu Sui from Clinical Medicine Class of 2011, and I have a private question to consult with you about.
At exactly 1 PM, Guan Xiangfeng accepted her WeChat request. Xu Sui got straight to the point: [Senior, hello. I’m Xu Sui. I wanted to ask – I have a friend who suffers from claustrophobia. What treatment methods are available?]
After a while, Guan Xiangfeng sent a location and replied: [Face-to-face consultation is more effective. What time this afternoon? I’ll have the nurse make an appointment for you.]
Xu Sui replied: [3 PM would be good.]
Guan Xiangfeng: [Alright, waiting for you to come.]
That afternoon, following the address Guan Xiangfeng gave, Xu Sui took buses to the city center and found his clinic 800 meters from Wanxiang Mall.
After going up, Xu Sui mentioned her appointment time at the front desk. About the time it takes to drink a cup of tea later, a nurse came through the corridor to lead her to Guan Xiangfeng’s office.
Xu Sui knocked on the door with “tap tap” sounds, and a gentle voice like wind responded: “Come in.”
Xu Sui pushed the door open. At the desk on the right sat a doctor in a white coat with a pen clipped to his chest. A pile of messy file folders sat to his right. He wore silver-rimmed glasses and had a handsome appearance.
“You’re Junior Xu, right?” Guan Xiangfeng smiled, pressing the intercom phone, “What would you like to drink?”
“Just plain water, thank you,” Xu Sui answered.
When the water was brought, Xu Sui briefly explained Zhou Jingze’s situation. Guan Xiangfeng nodded and pulled out the pen from his chest: “I understand the situation roughly. Can you get your friend to come directly? In-person treatment would be better.”
Xu Sui shook her head: “I’m afraid not. He probably won’t come.”
Zhou Jingze was such a proud person. If she hadn’t accidentally witnessed that elevator incident, he probably wouldn’t have let her see his vulnerable side.
“He says it’s not really claustrophobia, just mild – fear of darkness makes his symptoms worse,” Xu Sui added.
Guan Xiangfeng made notes with his pen and pondered: “Then psychological trauma has a bigger impact.”
“Most cases need early psychological therapy and later medication intervention. You’re saying he won’t even try? Just gave up on the exam directly?” Guan Xiangfeng asked.
“Yes.”
“Avoidance – the symptoms might not be that severe. Why not try systematic desensitization therapy?” Guan Xiangfeng pushed his glasses up with his index finger, suggesting.
Hearing the doctor say this, Xu Sui felt relieved, but then thought of something: “I looked up some information. Systematic desensitization seems to work relatively slowly. He’s a pilot, so he definitely can’t delay too long. Could we try flooding therapy instead?”
Flooding therapy involves putting the patient in the feared situation, recreating the scene. When the patient tries to resist or cover their hands, ears, or eyes, you tirelessly repeat the details and prevent the patient from escaping.
This treatment method works quickly, but if the patient can’t adapt, it can produce stress reactions and they might faint mid-treatment.
A flash of surprise appeared in Guan Xiangfeng’s eyes. He hadn’t expected her to have done so much homework beforehand. After pondering: “It’s possible. I’ll give you two sets of test questions for him first, and teach you what to do.”
“Most importantly, throughout the entire treatment, I must observe remotely and maintain phone contact with you.”
Xu Sui hesitated, then finally nodded: “Okay.”
When leaving, Xu Sui bowed to this senior to express her thanks. As she gripped the door handle about to leave, Guan Xiangfeng suddenly called out: “May I ask presumptuously – is that friend a very important person to you?”
Xu Sui smiled: “Yes.”
Very important.
…
When Xu Sui went to Zhou Jingze’s house with a pile of test questions and carefully and cautiously explained her idea, Zhou Jingze agreed without even thinking about it.
“It’s that… simple?” Xu Sui’s tone carried disbelief.
She thought that given Zhou Jingze’s arrogant personality, getting him to accept treatment and face his past humiliation would be very difficult.
Zhou Jingze leaned back against the sofa playing with his phone. Hearing this, his gaze moved to her, and he reached out to ruffle her hair, his tone casual but carrying complete trust:
“Don’t I have you?”
Zhou Jingze quickly completed the two psychological test sets on his laptop, spread his hands, and slouched back into the sofa. Xu Sui sat on the carpet, pulled the computer over, compressed his answers into a file package and sent it to Guan Xiangfeng’s email.
Soon, Guan Xiangfeng replied by email: Not bad, his physiological and psychological states are stable, within bearable range. We can try it.
Xu Sui moved the computer aside, placed her hand on Zhou Jingze’s knee, and asked: “Your… first traumatic shadow happened when?”
“Age ten,” Zhou Jingze set his phone aside, his tone casual, “in the basement of this very house.”
“Right here?” Xu Sui couldn’t help but widen her eyes, her eyelashes trembling.
So young to experience such things, and then he lived alone in this place for so long afterward.
Zhou Jingze lowered his dark eyelashes and curved his lips: “Thinking back on it, I’m not sure if I can handle it.”
Xu Sui couldn’t help but grip his hand, her voice soft: “It’s okay, you still have me.”
Zhou Jingze led Xu Sui down from the stairway on the right side of his study. The stairway was narrow, requiring the two to turn sideways and go down one after the other.
Zhou Jingze held her hand tightly the entire time. From the moment they started going downstairs, Xu Sui noticed his nerves were very tense, his back like a drawn bow, stretched tight.
The view ahead gradually narrowed and darkened. After stepping down the last stair, Zhou Jingze stood there, closed his eyes, and reached out to feel for the light switch on the wall.
Xu Sui could feel his palm had broken out in sweat.
With a “click,” the light came on. The dim space instantly became bright as day, countless tiny dust particles floating under the light. Xu Sui looked around.
The basement was about thirty square meters and had now become an abandoned storage room. A basketball and discarded bicycle lay on the ground, with shelving planks stacked nearby, covered in thick dust.
Zhou Jingze let go of her hand and walked toward the shelving planks, reaching out to take something from on top. Xu Sui stepped forward to look – it was a black leather belt, paint already peeling off, but the metal buckle still gleaming coldly.
“Tsk, my dad used this to beat me,” Zhou Jingze’s tone was casual, like an observer.
“For what reason?” Xu Sui asked him.
“Because—”
As Zhou Jingze was recalling, with a “snap,” the light actually went out. Vision plunged into darkness, with only weak light from the small window on the opposite wall.
Zhou Jingze swallowed with difficulty, the feeling of heart palpitations beginning to appear. He instinctively stepped back to feel for the light switch on the wall, when a pair of hands gripped his hands – very warm.
“It’s okay,” Xu Sui said gently, “take your time.”
“I remember Zhou Zhengyan was starting his business then, and his career was going very poorly. When he married my mom, he faced strong opposition from the family, especially several uncles who often looked down on him. But he never dared lose his temper with my mom because all of mom’s income from cello performances went to his investments – he could only try to please my mom.”
“His investments failed repeatedly, and he lived miserably. He could only come find me to vent. Usually he’d scold me harshly, and when it was serious, he’d throw books at my shoulder.”
Until one day, Zhou’s mother Yan Ning went abroad to visit a friend. Because the weather was turning cold, Zhou Jingze caught a cold and kept coughing. The doctor came and gave him two IV drips, but he couldn’t get better. The nanny mentioned this when talking to Yan Ning on the phone.
Yan Ning immediately called Zhou Zhengyan, repeatedly instructing him to personally take the child to see a doctor. Zhou Zhengyan agreed pleasantly, then turned and buried himself in his study making phone calls to seek investment.
Zhou Jingze coughed for an entire day. At midnight he coughed until his ears rang, his whole body coughing as if his lungs would come out. Because he was afraid of waking his father, he lay prone on the bed, covering his mouth, coughing until his shoulders shook, his voice intermittent.
Later Zhou Jingze really couldn’t bear it anymore – difficulty breathing, and his abdomen hurt on both sides from time to time. He struggled to get up from bed, covering his chest while coughing and knocking on his father’s door.
Whether it was because the memories were too painful, or because being trapped in the dark enclosed environment was uncomfortable, Zhou Jingze’s forehead was already covered in cold sweat, his face pale.
“Then what?” Xu Sui couldn’t help but grip Zhou Jingze’s hand tighter.
Zhou Jingze leaned back against the wall, his eyes showing coldness, but the corners of his lips habitually curved upward: “He got up.”
Then the nightmare began.
With a “bang,” Zhou Zhengyan opened the door. Zhou Jingze was startled, and before he could react, Zhou Zhengyan grabbed his collar with a dark face and dragged him into the room.
Zhou Jingze couldn’t break free at all. Zhou Zhengyan grabbed his head and smashed it against the wall, while hitting and cursing: “I’ve been putting up with you all night, cough cough cough, are you going to let people sleep or not!”
“Fuck! How did I give birth to such an unlucky thing like you.”
His father’s vulgar, filthy curses rang in his ears. Zhou Jingze’s whole body was slammed against the hard wall, his head aching terribly. The pain made him cry, and finally he hurt so much he lost consciousness, only feeling warm blood flowing from his forehead, drop by drop falling to the ground, shocking to see.
Finally he cried and grabbed Zhou Zhengyan’s hand, begging: “Dad, I’m… sorry, I’m sorry.”
Only then did Zhou Zhengyan stop. He still felt his anger hadn’t subsided, and irritably locked Zhou Jingze in the basement, ignoring his son’s crying and screaming, and even locked the door.
Zhou Jingze cried and made noise until 6 AM, wanting to get out. The surroundings were dirty and damp, and it was pitch black. He stayed in the basement, cold and hungry, but naively thought he could protest by going on a hunger strike.
The nanny told Zhou Zhengyan about this. He had already been failing to get financing these past few days and was extremely annoyed. In his irritation, he kicked open the basement door and beat him severely with a belt.
Zhou Jingze recalled this as if falling into that scene again, covering his heart and gasping for breath. A trembling voice came from off-screen:
“What did he say when he beat you?”
Zhou Jingze’s face was pale, feeling his limbs ice-cold. His head leaning back against the wall, his voice weak: “You beast, always causing me trouble.”
The water-soaked belt lashed his body whip by whip. Zhou Jingze felt his clothes being worn through, his flesh scraped like by knife blades, the pain almost making him faint.
He was still running a high fever, his head foggy, as if his nerve sensations weren’t his own anymore.
A pair of shiny leather shoes appeared before his eyes. Zhou Zhengyan grabbed his hair and stared at him: “Do you know where you went wrong?”
“I shouldn’t have bothered you.”
At this moment, Zhou Jingze was barely alive, leaning back against the wall, instinctively hugging himself in a self-protective posture, unconsciously repeating this phrase.
“I’m sorry, Senior Guan.” Xu Sui couldn’t bear it anymore, tears falling drop by drop as she covered the camera hidden in the corner, also throwing away the communication device in her ear.
Xu Sui couldn’t stand it – her proudest, most arrogant boy’s wretched appearance being seen by others.
He deserved flowers and applause.
Continuous sounds emerged, black spiders crawling over one after another. Zhou Jingze raised his hand to cover his ears, and in his confusion, someone stopped him. He unconsciously repeated some chaotic words, unable to distinguish who was speaking.
“You can’t get out,” a sinister male voice said.
“Yes you can, the exit is right there,” a gentle female voice responded.
“You’re just bad luck, might as well die,” someone kept reminding him.
Zhou Jingze felt he couldn’t breathe, gripped by a powerful hand at his throat, his whole body coiled by venomous snakes, falling into an abyss, unable to move.
“You’re not,” the female voice rang out again, a drop of scalding tears falling on the back of his hand.
Zhou Jingze was locked up for two days and nights. In the end he developed a high fever, opening his eyes in a daze to see spiders crawling around his feet. He retreated in fear, surrounded by bottomless darkness like a huge black box that paralyzed him, as if he could never escape.
“Can’t get out,” Zhou Jingze’s lips were pale.
Large beads of sweat rolled down from his forehead. Zhou Jingze’s eyelashes drooped, his lips pale, gasping for breath, his whole consciousness confused. A gentle voice tried to call him:
“Zhou Jingze, look, there’s light.”
Xu Sui crouched in front of him, having found a lighter somewhere. Zhou Jingze belatedly raised his eyes, their gazes meeting. An orange flame leaped up, illuminating a face with red lips and white teeth, a pair of clear, dark eyes reflecting only him.
The surrounding ringing faded, his heartbeat gradually calmed. The flickering flame before his eyes was like a dim star, carrying light.
“God said let there be light, and there was light.”
Zhou Jingze’s eyes went black, no longer able to support himself, and he collapsed into a warm embrace.