Yan Xi took another leave of absence from school. His second one.

According to Elder Wen’s wishes, they should immediately call the Yan family in America to inform them. However, Si Wan stopped him, saying there might still be a turning point in his condition. Making such a hasty call would surely cause the Yan family to suspect that the Wen family hadn’t been taking proper care of Yan Xi, leading to resentment.

After much consideration, Elder Wen gave Si Wan and A-Heng three months. If there was no improvement in Yan Xi’s condition after three months, he would need to give his old friend an explanation.

A-Heng remained silent, saying nothing, and took Yan Xi home.

Outside their door, where the nameplate used to be, there was now just a bare spot. A-Heng asked the person beside her for the nameplate, but he seemed oblivious, clutching the number plate tightly in his hand.

While eating, he clutched it; while bathing, he clutched it; while sleeping, he clutched it.

The knuckles of his left hand stood out prominently, his clenched fist pale and bloodless.

A-Heng wasn’t entirely sure what hysteria was. In her mind, she vaguely associated it with what village elders called “madness.” However, watching Yan Xi, he seemed more like he had turned into a child, recognizing no one, carrying out eating, bathing, and various aspects of life purely by instinct. Even when performing a series of complete actions, if interrupted, he would freeze in place, maintaining his previous position without moving.

When Yan Xi was showering, A-Heng handed him his pajamas, placing them outside the door. Though they were right there, after hearing A-Heng’s footsteps, he stopped his mechanical hair-washing motion and stood motionless under the shower head. His hair and face were still covered in white foam, and those large eyes, though reddened by the soap, didn’t blink once.

A-Heng looked into his eyes and gently knocked on the window.

He quietly turned toward the window, his eyes briefly focusing as he looked at her, his gaze unwavering like dead water.

A-Heng gently placed her hand on her hair and slowly rubbed it, demonstrating the motion to him.

He watched her for a long while, then his hand began rubbing his hair again, the movement almost identical to hers.

However, with his left hand gripping the nameplate, his movements were clumsy.

A-Heng smiled, letting him be.

Yan Xi used to have a bad habit of eating – he would constantly talk to her, gesturing animatedly, almost spraying saliva to the South Pole. He could jump from bragging about his good looks to how cool Hawaiian hula dancing was, from “A-Heng, I hate this dish” to how cooked abalone looks like a fried egg. Every time, she would want to hit him on the head with a frying pan, complaining about how noisy he was, so noisy…

Now, no one was there to be noisy anymore…

The young man sat there, spoonful by spoonful, like a child who had just learned to eat, serious and focused. His movements were stiff, his right hand carefully bringing the spoon to his mouth, then lowering it, chewing, swallowing, without even lowering his head.

He ate whatever dishes she placed for him, no longer saying “Why is today’s pork rib so fatty” or “A-Heng I won’t eat this dish, I won’t, I won’t, even if you kill me”…

How obedient he was now…

She ladled soup for him, and he dutifully drank it, still not lowering his head, causing drops to spill onto his clothes.

A-Heng took a napkin to help him wipe, smiling as she asked, “Yan Xi, why won’t you lower your head to drink?”

He looked at her bewildered, and A-Heng lowered her head, demonstrating the drinking motion.

Suddenly, he dropped the soup spoon. It fell into the bowl, splashing soup across the table. He covered his nose, tilted his head carefully, and said, “Nose, hurts.”

A-Heng froze, reaching out to move his hand away. There was nothing on his nose except the red mark from where he had been pressing it.

She let go, looking at the young man, searching for an answer, but he had already mechanically picked up his spoon again, his gaze fixed on some point, yet seeming covered by a veil.

On the first day of school, she said, “Yan Xi, be good and stay at home. Zhang Sao will bring you lunch at noon, okay?”

He glanced at her once, then his gaze slowly drifted away.

Later, when she rushed home after school, she found Yan Xi sitting at the dining table, still holding his spoon motionless, while the food on the table had long gone cold. Rice grains still clung to the corners of his mouth, and his clothes were thoroughly stained with soup.

A-Heng sighed and dialed the Wen family’s home number: “Grandfather, there’s no need to trouble Zhang Sao to deliver meals tomorrow.” Turning around, she gazed at the young man, her expression soft and gentle.

She said, “Yan Xi, be good. Tomorrow I’ll take you to class with me. Will you be good?”

He gripped the nameplate in his left hand, lowered his head, and traced its square outline with his slender white finger, not speaking, completely focused.

A-Heng smiled: “Yan Xi, does your nose still hurt?”

Hearing this, he didn’t react for a long while. Just when A-Heng was about to give up, he slightly raised his head, looked at her, and nodded. Then, he covered his nose again forcefully, his face scrunching up.

An expression of intense pain.

She asked Si Wan: “Two years ago, when Yan Xi had his episode, did he also keep saying his nose hurt?”

Si Wan smiled bitterly: “Two years ago, he only said his foot hurt.”

“Why?” A-Heng asked.

Si Wan sighed: “During previous treatment, Dr. Zheng asked him under hypnosis, and he said Cinderella lost her glass slipper, so her foot hurt.”

A-Heng had a sudden thought: “After the incident… what time did Yan Xi return home?”

Si Wan frowned: “I’m not sure exactly, but it should have been after midnight.”

At midnight, Cinderella lost her glass slipper…

At midnight, Yan Xi lost himself…

Back then, when he had found her and brought her home, he looked at the clock with relief, thinking thankfully it wasn’t yet noon…

He had told her, “A-Heng, you must return home before noon, understand?”

People who don’t return home by midnight turn into coal-covered dirty children, abandoned by the world – was that it…

But this time, why was it “nose hurts”?

The next day, A-Heng took Yan Xi to school. Everyone seemed to have heard something, and their gazes toward Yan Xi were even more evasive than his own. They awkwardly pretended everything was normal.

Teacher Guo frowned: “Wen Heng, this…”

A-Heng smiled: “Teacher Guo, you needn’t worry.”

Carrying her backpack and leading Yan Xi, she brought her whole family and sat in the corner of the last row.

Xin Dayi and Mary’s eyes reddened as they followed behind A-Heng, kicking others away to sit beside them.

A-Heng smiled sweetly: “Let me be clear, I only raise pigs, not rabbits.”

Meat Strip, with her rabbit-like eyes full of tears, glanced at the pig-year-born Yan Xi, then hugged A-Heng and began crying while squeezing her: “My poor A-Heng, why is your fate so bitter…”

Xin Dayi blinked and nodded: “That’s right, that’s right, as pitiful as Xianglin’s Wife…”

Meat Strip let go, slapped the desk, and pointed: “Xin Dayi, you’re talking nonsense! At least Xianglin’s Wife got married and had a child. My sister hasn’t even held your brother’s hand many times before becoming a living widow!”

A-Heng’s face twitched as she glanced at Yan Xi.

Thankfully, this child couldn’t understand anymore…

During lunch, Yan Xi again didn’t lower his head, his movements mechanical like a child’s, causing sauce from the pork ribs to drip onto his jacket.

Xin Dayi scooped up some pork ribs with his spoon, about to feed him: “Beautiful Yan, this is your favorite food. I’m condescending to feed you, so get better soon, got it?”

The spoon hung in mid-air, not yet touching Yan Xi’s lips, when those big, bright black eyes suddenly filled with tears, looking as pitiful as a child. Then, his delicate hand roughly pushed away Xin Dayi’s spoon.

Xin Dayi was startled, frozen in place.

A-Heng was surprised and asked the young man gently: “Yan Xi, what’s wrong? Does your nose hurt again?”

He remained silent, covering his nose, his voice muffled: “It grew longer.”

Meat Strip’s mouth fell open: “What… what does he mean, Yan Xi isn’t stu- mmph, Xin baboon, why are you covering my mouth!”

A-Heng smiled faintly, glancing at the two. They felt guilty and lowered their heads sheepishly to eat.

She turned back to Yan Xi. The young man had started awkwardly bringing pork ribs to his mouth again, sauce about to drip. But his face now held an innocence, unlike his previous expressionlessness.

A-Heng smiled, watching him with indulgent affection.

In front, the study representative was going around collecting homework, making circle after circle, when he accidentally bumped into Yan Xi, knocking something from his left hand. He paused, seeing it was Yan Xi, looked somewhat uncomfortable, and bent down to pick it up.

Yan Xi froze there, staring at his empty left palm. Suddenly, he went crazy, pushing the male student to the ground, straddling him, his eyes fierce as he began hitting him violently, muttering broken words: “Thief, home, home, give it back…”