After moving to Lijiang, the first thing Huo Zihong did was take Mu Dai to the provincial capital for medical treatment.

After making numerous inquiries, she found who was reportedly the best doctor at that time—He Ruihua.

Back then, He Ruihua was still employed at the hospital with many patients connected through relatives and friends. He wasn’t particularly concerned about Mu Dai’s case, especially since she didn’t show any obvious abnormalities. Compared to those patients who were truly in crisis, screaming and fighting for their lives, she was remarkably normal—deserving of an award for normalcy.

He Ruihua thought Huo Zihong’s concerns were simply the unnecessary worries of a parent with a teenage daughter.

He suggested, “How about this—pay close attention to her daily behaviors. It would be best if you could record audio or video. This way, you’ll have evidence, and it will make it easier for us to analyze the situation.”

Luo Ren’s gaze fell on the old videotape in Huo Zihong’s hand.

Square, black, outdated, aged—a sealed recording of the past.

He Ruihua said, “Let’s watch it.”

Instead of bringing out an old-fashioned projector as expected, He Ruihua had already arranged for the footage to be converted to a computer video.

The screen came to life.

The pixels were of poor quality, blurry, and with static noise. It was nighttime, the room was dark, and the outline of a bed and someone on it was barely visible.

The bedside lamp suddenly lit up. Mu Dai sat up in bed, got out with bare feet—seemingly heading to the bathroom—but after just two steps, she suddenly sat down.

She sat cross-legged on the floor, looking blank. It wasn’t clear where Huo Zihong had placed the camera, but at this moment, it was directly facing her.

Luo Ren watched Mu Dai.

She was young then, truly young—straight hair, a childish face, thin arms, a slender frame. Her chest had begun to develop, with slight curves outlined by her pajamas, showing her adolescent figure.

If now he called Mu Dai “my girl,” back then, she would have been “my little girl.”

Mu Dai wiped her tears. She was crying.

Controlled crying, trying her best not to make a sound. Her small face scrunched up as she wiped her tears with her sleeve, crying in bursts with pauses in between, murmuring, “What should I do?”

Luo Ren wanted to reach out and stroke her hair.

The affairs of this world are rarely clear-cut, black and white. The characters for “right” or “wrong” with their balanced structures cannot describe the complexity of human emotions. Even with Huo Zihong’s recounting presented before him, Luo Ren couldn’t untangle it all in a short time, let alone the Mu Dai of that time.

No one taught her, no one guided her. She believed she was guilty; Huo Zihong made her accept her guilt; the Shen family treated her as unforgivable—this guilt had become fact.

She reached under her pillow and pulled out a knife.

An ordinary fruit knife.

Luo Ren watched as she held the knife, first positioning it at her wrist, then at her throat, and finally pointing the tip at her heart. The hand holding the knife trembled continuously.

Luo Ren’s heart tightened, his body leaning forward.

Then, she closed her eyes, her right hand tensed…

Luo Ren felt a buzzing in his ears. Even knowing the suicide attempt wasn’t successful, in that moment, his breath still stopped.

Suddenly, Mu Dai opened her eyes.

Her gaze was fierce, her expression almost cutting.

She angrily threw the knife away with a clang and said harshly, “What’s it to you!”

Luo Ren was startled, then realized: she was speaking to that other Mu Dai.

She spoke rapidly: “You didn’t kill anyone. What’s it to you? You nearly died from that fall. You barely survived—why would you throw your life away now?”

Her chest heaved with unresolved anger, like a gloomy, dark girl.

Yan Hongshe was right. Mu Dai herself had also guessed the truth—dissociative identity disorder.

Luo Ren turned to Huo Zihong: “I had already guessed that Mu Dai might have dissociative identity disorder…”

Huo Zihong said, “There’s a little more to watch. See it through.”

Mu Dai’s expressions switched between fragile suffering and fierce defiance. Luo Ren didn’t want to watch any more, fearing these impressions would become impossible to shake.

Fortunately, judging by the time display, the video was almost over.

Just then, Mu Dai suddenly raised her head.

Her expression was calm, her eyes slightly narrowed, her brows slightly furrowed—as if annoyed or disgusted.

She said, “Both of you, stop arguing.”

The video ended there abruptly.

The room remained silent for a long time. Eventually, Zhang Shu’s plastic fruit bag rustled again—a complete noise that made one want to throw the bag to the floor and stomp it to pieces.

Luo Ren said, “I don’t know much about psychology. If you’re going to explain, please use terms I can understand—keep it simple.”

He Ruihua first admitted that, regarding evidence and footage of Mu Dai’s abnormal behavior, what Luo Ren had just seen was all there was.

All of it? Just this video?

Luo Ren found it hard to believe: “And then?”

“Then, she healed at a speed none of us could have imagined.”

“Healed?”

Mr. He Ruihua awkwardly emphasized: “Self-healed. Healed herself.”

He pulled his chair away, rose from behind that heavy desk, brought over a whiteboard, and drew three circles with a fluorescent marker.

In the largest one, he wrote the character for “Hidden.”

In the middle-sized one, he wrote “Mu Dai.”

In the smallest one, he wrote “No. 2.”

Luo Ren looked at the largest circle: “Is that the primary personality?”

“Yes.”

“A personality that has rarely surfaced in all these years is the primary personality?”

“Some people never appear in public yet manipulate from behind the scenes, controlling entire empires. Others bustle about, merely serving in the court. Primary or secondary isn’t determined by frequency of appearance but by the balance of power.”

Under normal circumstances, Luo Ren might have smiled at such rhetoric, but at this moment, in this place, he wasn’t in the mood.

He Ruihua said, “There’s too little material for analysis and research. Much of what I say is conjecture. You can use it as a reference, you don’t have to believe it, and I welcome discussion.”

The typical tone of an intellectual.

Luo Ren nodded: “Go on.”

“I think you’d agree with the statement that human nature craves survival, a desire that exists even in the unconscious. Just like someone who claims to be suicidal might still instinctively dodge an oncoming car.”

Luo Ren agreed that for most people in this world, death still requires great courage.

“Because of this desire to survive, humans have instincts for self-preservation. Taken to the extreme, eating when hungry and drinking when thirsty are forms of self-preservation.”

Luo Ren listened quietly.

He Ruihua looked at the board: “Mu Dai’s condition was a form of self-preservation.”

“Given her age at the time and the pressure she faced, if it had continued, she likely would have either died or completely collapsed. So I believe that in her self-awareness, she formed a strategy of defense and offense.”

“The primary personality, carrying this pressure-or or what might be called a sense of guilt—went into hiding, or you could say, fell asleep.”

Luo Ren remained silent. Based on Mu Dai’s everyday behavior, one couldn’t tell she had experienced severe psychological trauma. She was pure and lovely to the point of simplicity.

Luo Ren suddenly thought of the time when Mu Dai had water and fish thrown at her. The woman who did it was likely a member of Shen Wen’s family.

He pondered: “But Mu Dai hasn’t forgotten what happened eight years ago.”

He Ruihua said, “I believe this is strategic. If she had completely forgotten, that would have been problematic—it would have indicated obvious mental abnormality.”

He chose his words carefully: “She remembers, but the impact of this guilt isn’t as deep. If before it penetrated the bone marrow, now it might only affect the outer layers, meaning it only causes psychological disturbance when the matter is brought up or directly confronted. She created more than eight years of breathing room for herself, which is also a form of escape.”

Luo Ren couldn’t refute this. When Mu Dai had water thrown on her, her behavior was indeed abnormal, but he had to admit she recovered quickly.

Like a rebound.

He Ruihua continued: “Then the primary personality pushed two secondary personalities to the forefront. After that, it was like natural selection…”

He pointed the tip of his pen at the circle labeled “Mu Dai”: “This one prevailed.”

Luo Ren asked, “Why? It seems like No. 2 is more capable and shrewd.”

He Ruihua nodded: “True, but we should add a few more adjectives—selfish and self-centered.”

“From the video, we can see that No. 2 is completely self-oriented, approaching everything from a self-centered perspective, disregarding responsibility and morality. Since people are inherently social beings, such a personality isn’t popular among the general public.”

Luo Ren recalled the dangerous confrontation with the old clam in Wuzhu Village when Mu Dai suddenly disappeared. Later, following a whistle, he found her far out at sea.

He Ruihua’s description was accurate. No. 2’s sole objective was to remove Mu Dai from danger. She never considered helping Luo Ren or Cao Yanhua, who were still in peril.

She had indeed saved Mu Dai several times, but she only saved Mu Dai. She made excuses for herself with conviction and righteousness, speaking as if she bore no responsibility.

He Ruihua said, “But Mu Dai is different. Have you noticed one of her characteristics?”

Luo Ren replied, “She has many characteristics.”

He Ruihua smiled slightly: “Mr. Luo, think carefully about your relationship with her. Do you feel there have been any changes from the beginning until now?”

Luo Ren thought for a moment.

There were changes. When they first met, Mu Dai was sharp and untamed, and they had conflicts. But gradually, she became his girl.

He Ruihua prompted him: “Do you find yourself liking her more and more?”

Isn’t that obvious? As the relationship progresses smoothly, feelings naturally deepen. If two people grew to despise each other, why would they continue their relationship?

He Ruihua seemed to read his mind: “What I mean is, she’s shaping herself according to your preferences. Mu Dai was pushed to the forefront by the primary personality and easily defeated No. 2—this wasn’t coincidental. She can make those she wants to like her, like her.”

She can make those she wants to like her like her.

What a tongue-twister. Luo Ren repeated it in his mind as anger began to cloud his brow, though he spoke with a smile.

“What do you mean?”

He Ruihua calmly said, “I know this is hard for you to accept—difficult for any lover to accept.”

“Don’t you find her sweet? The more time you spend with her, the more she suits your taste? Whatever you like, that’s what she becomes?”

“Doesn’t she rarely make you angry? When she occasionally shows a little temper, you comfort her, and she becomes happy again. She doesn’t get jealous, doesn’t cross your boundaries—everything seems tailor-made to your preferences?”

Luo Ren felt angry and absurd.

Huo Zihong spoke at the right moment, her tone gentle: “Luo Ren, we’re discussing Mu Dai’s condition now. Don’t take it personally. What Dr. He is describing—Mu Dai showed some signs of this when she was young. There’s a word, perhaps harsh to hear, but it describes this situation.”

She paused, then said: “People-pleasing—deliberate people-pleasing.”

He Ruihua coughed lightly: “There’s a reptile called a chameleon that can change its color according to its surroundings. This is similar to Mu Dai’s situation. When she interacts with different people, she displays different personalities, and because these are secondary personalities, the fluctuations are frequent.”

Luo Ren suddenly contained his anger and said, “Go on, continue. When you’re finished, I’ll give my opinion.”

His expression was not pleasant as he leaned back against the sofa in silence.

He Ruihua exchanged an awkward glance with Huo Zihong: “Basically, that’s our… speculation and discussion about why she previously showed abnormalities.”

Expressionless, Luo Ren said, “Dr. He, I want to ask you—they say doctors should have the heart of a parent. What kind of heart do you have?”

He Ruihua didn’t understand the question and looked perplexed.

Luo Ren said, “I agree with your theory about self-preservation. Under those circumstances, isolated and without help, trying to save herself by diluting or hiding that experience isn’t strange.”

“But…”

He smiled: “Have you heard this story?”

He continued without waiting for a response.

“There was a mental patient with a strange symptom. Every day, he would crouch in the corner of the room holding an umbrella, not eating, drinking, or speaking. Many psychologists tried and failed—everyone thought he was beyond help.”

“One day, a new psychologist came. Without asking many questions, he quietly took an umbrella and joined the patient in the corner, not eating, drinking, or speaking.”

“After a few days, the mental patient finally spoke. He secretly asked the psychologist, ‘Hello, are you also a mushroom?'”

As a psychologist, He Ruihua had certainly heard this story before, but he still didn’t understand Luo Ren’s point.

Luo Ren said, “Based on one video and your understanding, you’ve made what you consider a reasonable inference, which Huo Zihong seems to have accepted.”

“Have you tried to understand Mu Dai? Have you held an umbrella and sat with her? She might just be a harmless mushroom, but you’ve demonized her as a chameleon.”

He turned to Huo Zihong: “And you’ve accepted this interpretation. In your mind, Mu Dai’s interactions with everyone have become deliberate people-pleasing—with you and with me.”

“During that time when the murder case involving you remained unsolved, do you know how worried Mu Dai was for you? After all your years together, do you think there’s not a shred of genuine feeling, only people-pleasing? Who are you? Who are we to deserve her people-pleasing?”

Luo Ren was losing control. He suddenly stood up: “I must be going crazy too, wasting time listening to your nonsense. I want to see Mu Dai now. Can someone please show me the way?”

No one moved.

After a long while, Huo Zihong wearily looked up at Luo Ren and said softly.

“Luo Ren, Mu Dai has recovered.”

Recovered? What does that mean?

Luo Ren’s brow furrowed tightly as he turned to look at He Ruihua.

He Ruihua, still reeling from the earlier rebuke, had alternating flushes of red and paleness on his face. Seeing Luo Ren’s gaze, he seemed at a loss, but after a long moment, he extended his hand toward the whiteboard.

The primary personality—the circle with the character for “Hidden.”