The sunset fell on the sea, its waves sparkling.
Ye Qingyun handed the notebook in her hand to Dai Linxuan. It contained a four-hour diagnostic record. “Lai Li is very willing to let you know.”
Dai Linxuan took it and felt his heart clench after just two lines. “Color vision deficiency? Color blindness?”
Ye Qingyun shook her head. “It’s different from common red-green or blue-yellow color blindness. His is acquired color vision deficiency. He could only perceive light and dark, black, white, and gray, and couldn’t distinguish other colors… except for you.”
“What do you mean… except for me?”
“You have color.” Ye Qingyun pointed. “For example, today your skin tone is pale, the coat you’re wearing is olive green… and your hair is a chestnut shade.”
In Lai Li’s world, only the colors on Dai Linxuan were normal.
“Don’t worry, he’s already better now,” Ye Qingyun said. “This was his state right after you took him in.”
Dai Linxuan remained silent for a long time. He turned his head toward the pavilion not far away, where Lai Li sat in a wheelchair, expressionlessly filling out scales on the stone table, one after another.
“…I never knew.” Each word felt like a stone scraping Dai Linxuan’s throat, raw and painful.
Ye Qingyun said, “It’s normal that you didn’t notice. A ten-year-old child with so many sensory abnormalities never made a sound. It shows he was very good at enduring and hiding himself.”
Dai Linxuan asked, “Why did this happen?”
Ye Qingyun replied, “His color vision was normal when he was very young, and it gradually recovered as he grew older. That rules out congenital issues and organic diseases. It must have been influenced by psychological factors.”
“If I remember correctly, that famous Saibo City in Danshi was formerly the Slum District? According to Lai Li’s description, the Slum District was complex terrain with multiple levels. He and that tra…” Ye Qingyun frowned. “Human trafficker—we’ll call it that.”
He lived with that human trafficker on the lowest level, where sunlight couldn’t reach. It was gloomy and cold, damp, always hazy gray. He grew up in that environment from childhood, enduring immense mental and physical pressure… When emotions are abnormal, it’s easy to cause sensory distortions, just like getting sick from too much anger.
“Before you appeared, he could rely on his body’s ‘self-protection mechanism’ to block the pressure. But you brought him to a normal world and gave him love and care he’d never experienced. The shield cracked open, and the pressure flooded out…
“A child that young couldn’t bear it.”
These were all things Dai Linxuan knew, but hearing them dissected by an outsider felt like his heart was being fed into a meat grinder—with Ye Qingyun flipping the switch.
She said, “For ordinary children, the most common way to vent is crying.”
“…My brother never cried.” Dai Linxuan closed his eyes briefly, his fingertips trembling. “From ten years old until now, I’ve never seen him shed a tear.”
Crying was a missing function for Lai Li; he couldn’t fake it.
“Because there’s no pain feedback.” After flipping the switch, Ye Qingyun sprinkled salt on the wound. “Actually, before coming, when you said you’d never noticed any abnormalities over the years and that he mentioned being sick himself, I even suspected he was faking it.”
Dai Linxuan would rather Lai Li had been deceiving him.
He gripped the chair back and sat down with effort. After two seconds, he snapped back and gestured for her to sit. “Please, have a seat.”
“No need, I’ll stand for a bit.” Ye Qingyun continued, “For now, we can confirm he has some mental and psychological issues, but we can’t pinpoint which one yet.”
Dai Linxuan was silent for a moment before asking, “Do you have a leaning in mind?”
“Schizophrenia—he thinks so too.” Ye Qingyun paused. “It might not be the only condition.”
Dai Linxuan had prepared himself mentally and accepted it relatively well. He just feared it was some rare symptom with few cases or studies in the field, making treatment difficult.
He took two seconds to steady his breathing. “What you just said about no pain feedback…”
Ye Qingyun chose her words carefully. “Childhood pain is more easily amplified and remembered. For a small example, if parents had two lollipops but gave them only to your younger sibling and not you, that grievance might linger into adulthood. I’ve seen many patients choke up uncontrollably when talking about similar things.
“Of course, it’s not that they’re being dramatic. For their younger selves, it really was unbearable.”
Dai Linxuan’s heart trembled. “My brother doesn’t have that.”
Ye Qingyun nodded. “When Lai Li talked about those childhood experiences that seem utterly dark to adults, he showed no sadness or pain—completely indifferent, like they happened to someone else.”
Dai Linxuan rested his elbows on his knees, fingers interlaced under his nose. “Could it be dissociative identity disorder?”
“Multiple personalities? You’ve done a lot of research.” Ye Qingyun smiled but didn’t deny it outright. “When you interact with him usually, do you notice any contradictions?”
Dai Linxuan shook his head, then paused. “His attitude toward me is different from how he treats others.”
“That’s normal; you’re the only special existence in his heart,” Ye Qingyun said. “I don’t think it’s dissociative identity disorder for now. Lai Li has large memory gaps, but he can actually recall them.”
Dai Linxuan was stunned. “How? With medication?”
“You misunderstood. I mean he can recall them on his own.” Ye Qingyun explained, “Just now, he mentioned an interesting term to me—anchor point.”
Anchor points were used in many fields, like the internet, psychology, and so on. For the public, they were most familiar from sci-fi movies about time travel.
They usually served as markers to pull someone out of chaos upon sight.
“His life is full of such anchor points,” Ye Qingyun summarized. “Each memory’s anchor must have unique specificity. For example, if you gave him a camera before, seeing it would trigger the memory. But not something common like an apple you handed him one day—too many similar scenes.”
“…”
Dai Linxuan suddenly recalled that long ago, Lai Li had said, “I keep everything you give me properly.”
And two nights before the car accident, Lai Li had said, “If I redo what happened that night, I can remember.”
“—Or experiencing something similar again might trigger it,” Ye Qingyun said. “These are his own conclusions.”
Dai Linxuan glanced sideways. The sunset’s glow cast a golden halo on Lai Li’s profile, making his slender frame look especially fragile.
He gently pressed his brow. “If it’s confirmed, would hospitalization be more appropriate?”
Ye Qingyun said, “Depends on severity.”
Dai Linxuan steeled himself before asking, “Is he severe?”
Ye Qingyun glanced at Lai Li but didn’t speak, seemingly pondering.
Dai Linxuan’s heartbeat grew erratic with her silence. After a long while, he heard the answer: “Hard to say for now.”
Ye Qingyun had an excellent reputation in the field; otherwise, Dai Linxuan wouldn’t have sought her out.
She originally had no time, but with Dai Linxuan’s substantial funding for her team’s research project, she suddenly did.
“Lai Li’s case is a bit complex. After the clinical diagnosis, I need to discuss it with my colleagues,” Ye Qingyun said. “I need to ask you some questions as diagnostic references.”
Dai Linxuan said, “Go ahead.”
Ye Qingyun said, “I should ask about family history of mental illness, but you’re not blood brothers, and he…”
Dai Linxuan said, “There is.”
Ye Qingyun was taken aback.
Dai Linxuan asked, “His mother had mental issues too, but years after his birth. Is it hereditary?”
“There might be a genetic factor contributing to the onset,” Ye Qingyun said. “But it’s just one reference; don’t overthink it.
“Mental illnesses are heavily genetic, and ordinary people rarely develop them even under major stress. But Lai Li is different. From birth, he was in an environment antithetical to ‘human instinct.’ Most senses were suppressed most of the time. Over time, mental issues aren’t surprising.”
Dai Linxuan closed his eyes briefly. “My brother doesn’t know I’ve found his mother yet. Please keep it confidential for now.”
“No problem.” Ye Qingyun continued, “Does he have violent tendencies usually?”
Dai Linxuan said, “He’s just a bit hot-tempered; not really violent. Little Chestnut doesn’t suddenly hit people… Those reports calling him lawless are true but always had reasons.”
Ye Qingyun neither confirmed nor denied. “What about verbal or physical aggression?”
Dai Linxuan frowned instinctively, reluctant to air Lai Li’s flaws to an outsider… but this was the doctor.
“He occasionally smashes things when frustrated,” Dai Linxuan said with a helpless smile. “But not at people—just to express displeasure. Not without reason, and not frequent.”
Ye Qingyun looked at him.
Dai Linxuan paused, then affirmed, “Really not frequent.”
Ye Qingyun didn’t press. “That’s good news; it means he can control himself.”
Dai Linxuan’s heart sank. Ye Qingyun said Lai Li could control it, not that violence was ruled out.
…
Filling out the scales took over two hours. By the end, night had fallen, and the lamps along the path lit up.
Dai Linxuan watched Lai Li check boxes rapidly, seriously suspecting he was messing around, but he couldn’t question it for fear of less cooperation.
After finishing, Lai Li handed it to him.
