When Xin Dayi and Mary pulled them apart, the boy who had been beaten was already frightened senseless, completely unaware of what had happened.

A-Heng sighed, picked up the nameplate, and placed it in his palm, her nose stinging: “No one’s stealing, Yan Xi. No one is stealing your home.”

The young man looked at her in confusion, then lowered his head to look at the nameplate in his left palm. Finally, he gripped it tightly, becoming calm.

She apologized to the boy who had been beaten.

Although he wasn’t seriously injured, being suddenly attacked had left him feeling quite upset. His face darkened as he spoke to A-Heng: “Yan Xi has gone stupid. I won’t stoop to his level. But Wen Heng, with him like this, to prevent him from hurting others, you should quickly send him to a mental hospital!”

Xin Dayi instantly flared up: “You’re the stupid one! Want to bet I’ll send you to a mental hospital right now!”

The boy glanced at Xin Dayi, knowing he couldn’t mess with these high-ranking officials’ children, snorted, and sheepishly left.

Mary wanted to say something to comfort A-Heng, but A-Heng just smiled sweetly at Yan Xi: “Our Yan Xi isn’t stupid at all, right?”

The young man lowered his head, preciously looking at his “home,” showing no reaction.

He used to always say “our A-Heng” in such a proud tone: “Our A-Heng is so beautiful, cooks so well, speaks so interestingly, do you know?” If they knew, fine, because this was Young Master Yan’s truth; if they didn’t know, no matter, this young master would keep mentioning “our A-Heng” until they all knew, until his truth became their truth too.

That was his logic, wanting the whole world to know how wonderful his treasure was.

So, Yan Xi, our Yan Xi, I’m starting to call you this now – is it too late?

On Saturday, A-Heng took Yan Xi to the hospital for treatment. According to Si Wan, for Yan Xi’s condition, they should first try psychological therapy, and only if they couldn’t achieve good control would they resort to medication.

That was A-Heng’s first time entering Tianwu General Hospital. Holding Yan Xi’s hand, she felt that his retreat into his world, oblivious to his surroundings, might not be entirely a bad thing.

Tianwu was more like a sanatorium than a hospital. Bird songs and fragrant flowers in the garden, clean and orderly exercise equipment, and countless patients in uniform identified by numbers.

01 to unknown, they had no names.

Nurses scolded them like naughty children: “0377, don’t steal 0324’s cookies.”

But in reality, they were two men in their prime. One was roughly grabbing something from the hands of the other, more heavyset young man, while the heavyset one was forcefully scratching at his lips, his teeth already bleeding, his cheeks twisted in an eerie smile.

Strong young male nurses came forward to separate them, while other patients formed a circle, clapping their hands and cheering like children.

A-Heng stepped back, bumping into Yan Xi, and turned around with alarm. But the young man’s expression was unusually calm, without any emotion, or perhaps so empty that nothing could be read from it – everything was there, yet nothing was there.

Dr. Zheng was a man past thirty, wearing a white coat, looking very clean and gentle. He called out: “Yan Xi.”

Yan Xi only looked down at his “home,” paying no attention.

Dr. Zheng smiled slightly, looking at A-Heng: “You and Si Wan?…”

“Siblings.”

Dr. Zheng nodded: “No wonder you look so alike. Before, he always brought Yan Xi here. Today it’s you instead – you must be very close and trusted by Yan Xi.”

She only heard the first half. Before, Si Wan always brought Yan Xi here, but what about Grandfather Yan and Guard Li? Why had they never come? Could it be they feared it would damage the Yan family’s reputation…

A-Heng’s heart grew cold.

Dr. Zheng seemed to see through A-Heng’s thoughts and somewhat awkwardly explained: “Old Mr. Yan is busy with official duties, but he always calls to inquire in detail.”

A-Heng smiled bitterly – he had time to make phone calls but no time to take Yan Xi to the doctor. No wonder Yan Xi had been locked up at home for half a year…

A full half year, even keeping it from the Xin family.

She looked at Yan Xi, but he only hung his head, black hair clinging to his forehead, faintly hiding his bright large eyes.

A-Heng gripped his hand, unconsciously increasing her strength. Yan Xi felt pain and looked up, violently pushing her away.

A-Heng was stunned – could she also become… someone who hurt Yan Xi?

Dr. Zheng sighed, took out a medical flashlight to examine Yan Xi’s eyes, and then waved his finger in front of them. The young man’s eyes followed slowly, without any agility.

Dr. Zheng frowned, asking A-Heng: “Has he been like this these past few days, showing no attention to anything?”

A-Heng nodded, pointing to what the young man was clutching in his left hand: “Except for this.”

“This should be what triggered Yan Xi’s relapse.” Dr. Zheng pondered briefly.

A-Heng focused her gaze: “What do you mean?”

“Generally speaking, hysteria occurs when patients, after receiving severe stimulation, are unable to protect themselves or dispel sorrow, and continuously give themselves psychological suggestions, entering an imagined state of safety. Once factors that stimulate their psychology appear, or what they consider unsafe situations arise, they will display hysterical conditions.” Dr. Zheng paused, “Of course, some patients engage in role-playing, unable to dispel past grief, and change roles to punish themselves.”

“Yan Xi is like this.” Dr. Zheng lowered his head to check Yan Xi’s medical records, “But he isn’t simply one type of case, rather two concurrent conditions. So, if you take away what he’s holding in his left hand, it makes him feel very unsafe, even to the point of attacking others – this object has become a trigger for his emotional instability. And two years ago, his second personality…”

A-Heng interrupted Dr. Zheng: “What is a second personality?”

“The second personality is the role he plays.” Dr. Zheng smiled slightly, “Sometimes patients’ performances are more convincing than stage actors. Two years ago, Yan Xi also insisted he was Cinderella who had lost her glass slipper.”

He stood up, smiling at A-Heng: “Hypnotherapy for patients requires absolute quiet. Now, please wait in the reception room.”

When they left the hospital, the evening sunlight was beautiful, like flowing sand of gold, softening the shadows.

Dr. Zheng concluded: This time, Yan Xi’s second personality was Pinocchio. He said he dared not tell the truth, his nose would grow one centimeter every day, he couldn’t get his family’s forgiveness, couldn’t return home.

Then, he asked her curiously: “Who is A-Heng? During hypnosis, Yan Xi mentioned this person and cried.”

Tianwu General Hospital was located in a somewhat remote street. She held Yan Xi’s hand but didn’t see any taxis. Coming here, her mind had been preoccupied with other things, and she’d forgotten to remember the route.

“Yan Xi, be good and stand here while I go to the intersection to hail a cab.” A-Heng smiled sweetly, releasing his hand, “Don’t run off, okay?”

Yan Xi slowly raised his head, looked at her once, and then lowered it again.

When she returned, he was gone.

Her mind went blank.

“Yan…” Her mouth opened, but no matter what, no sound came out. She went crazy with despair washing over her.

Turning around, there were only small alleys all around, crisscrossing and silent. The quiet shadows in the sunset seemed to suddenly start swaying, grim, as if mocking her, pouncing toward her.

Without aim, without destination, she kept running forward, against the light, as if each step brought her closer to darkness, yet she had no other choice.

So tired, so tired… even more exhausted than when Yan Xi first disappeared and she stayed up for two days and nights…

She couldn’t run anymore, stopping under the green-tiled wall.

An ancient alley, the smell of decay and rot.

From far away came a melodious voice: “Rattles, little dough figurines, Kunlun slaves, buy them for your children…”

At the intersection of the alley was a peddler carrying goods on a shoulder pole, gently swaying a small cowhide rattle. Various crudely made masks hurt her eyes in the sunset.

That thin figure was crouching before the goods, his face somewhat innocent, his black hair warm then cool in the sunlight.

She walked to him, and instantly, tears flowed endlessly.

Suddenly, the left side of her chest felt numb. It was pridefully pleased, feeling itself beating, but A-Heng felt that if it were cut away, no longer beating, that might be better.

“Yan Xi, I guess you don’t know at all how much I hurt.” A pain that couldn’t be cured even with an antidote. She held him in her arms, her eyes frighteningly red.

She bent down, her shadow covering his, embracing him, never wanting to let go.

The young man who was like a child, his hair carrying a faint milk fragrance, grew quiet in her arms, his voice muffled and unclear, speaking in single syllables.

“Mask, home, also have.” He said to her, his voice very serious and labored.

A-Heng trembled slightly. He still remembered the masks they had bought together at home.

He gently pushed her away, and squinted, pointing at the array of masks on the shoulder pole.

A-Heng stood up, and the peddler smiled: “This child has been following me all the way, just looking at the masks.”

She smiled, wiping her tears: “Master, I’ll buy one.”

As she was taking out money, the young man suddenly grabbed her hand and started running wildly.

A-Heng was startled, following beside him, stumbling as he pulled her along.

“Yan Xi, where are you going?” she asked him, the wind in her ears threatening to carry away her voice.

But this young man didn’t answer, just kept running and running.

The overpass, green trees, park, streets… each place grew distant, then near, distant again; blurred, became clear, then blurred again.

The left hand held his “home”; the right hand held Yan Xi’s A-Heng.

Her left hand felt a cool warmth. Knuckles bent and curved, pressed tight without gaps, as if heading somewhere uncertain, without destination, without endpoint.

When they stopped before her was a door.

No nameplate.

He slightly raised his face, in a gentle tone: “Home, you.”

He knew she couldn’t remember the way, but didn’t know why he knew.

A-Heng smiled, surprised that Yan Xi had led her back home. She looked at him, gently correcting: “This is your home.”

Yan Xi shook his head, his large eyes pure and clear: “Yours.”

“Then where’s yours?”

This child suddenly held his head and began crying in pain, his features almost scrunching together.

“I bad, A-Heng hates me, home, gone.”

Dr. Zheng had told her that Yan Xi’s medical records also mentioned aphasia.

He would gradually completely isolate himself from this world.