Director Hao’s recommended psychologist was working as the school doctor.
What a coincidence—the pet doctor had recommended the same guy before. He was supposedly a very gentle and responsible doctor, with students lining up endlessly to see him, all leaving glowing reviews.
When Shen Leyuan arrived at the agreed spot, the students were already queuing up.
Ahead of him was a pair of boy-girl twins, whispering to each other and giggling now and then. There was none of the usual pre-appointment tension; instead, they carried the shy anticipation of a date, which stirred an uncomfortable twinge in him—a feeling unique to teachers.
A basketball player showed up behind him next, decked out in his jersey and clutching his ball like he’d just come off the court. Yet he was spotlessly clean, everything brand new from head to toe, with a few bros trailing him for moral support.
Shen Leyuan: …
So it’s not just my imagination—these guys are really here to confess their love?
“Thank you, Doctor Di!”
From inside the counseling room, a young student gushed excitedly: “I know where my problem is now. Next time, I definitely won’t fight with him. If there’s time, can I bring him to see you too?”
Di Junya nodded with a smile. “Of course.”
“Great, I’ll talk it over with him.” The student got up and headed out, adding as he opened the door: “He’s a bit paranoid, but no worries. Once he meets you, he’ll love you too!”
Through the narrowing gap in the door, Di Junya locked eyes with the young man on the bench outside.
He curved his lips into a smile. Nice opening.
Those misleading words, the furtive students—they’d paint him as the “bad doctor” in outsiders’ eyes. But in reality, the students weren’t confessing love; they were seeking his analysis of their boyfriend or girlfriend’s little thoughts.
By the time Shen Leyuan realized it was a misunderstanding, shame and apology would naturally well up in him.
That was the fastest way to earn someone’s trust.
Once Shen Leyuan tentatively accepted him, Di Junya would guide him to notice his own excessive focus on him—the one-sided accusations and arguments that followed. Then, that meddlesome peacemaker Hao Mingrui would surely reveal his “Dynamic, Heteromorph Monitor” identity, sparking a fresh wave of guilt in Shen Leyuan.
With every future step mapped out crystal clear, Di Junya suppressed his inner excitement and called out mildly: “Next.”
At the same time, Shen Leyuan messaged Director Hao.
[With that face of the psychologist, wouldn’t he fit right into Little Deer’s harem?]
[That smile—isn’t it just like a gentle sadistic top?]
[That shoulder-length hair—in three years, won’t it be “cascading down the youth’s jade-like back”?]
Hao Mingrui: [????]
The gentle sadistic top was a props guy—no physical intimacy with Little Deer—but he actively pushed Little Deer to make friends, observed and recorded changes in Little Deer’s feelings toward others, psychologically manipulated Little Deer, turning him into his personal talisman.
He was the psychologist Lin Yuan found, nameless, debuting after the Tibetan Mastiff arc three years later. Once Lin Yuan realized Little Deer had zero common sense or ability for normal social interaction, he sent Little Deer to school, entering the gentle sadistic top’s home turf for a juicy campus free-for-all.
Students trusted and revered him. Under his guidance, they swapped common sense for Flower Market logic, dragging Little Deer into one lewd contest after another, pushing the whole story to its climax.
Hair could grow longer, colors could be dyed—what couldn’t change was personality…
Shen Leyuan typed: [I just remembered a detail. Lin Yuan always rejected suggestions about the psychologist, but at the end of the story, he proactively books the psychologist to counsel Little Deer. From our earlier analysis, that’s because he was bewitched by Little Deer and made the wrong choice, right?]
[Yes.]
[But what if he wasn’t bewitched? What if, like me, he accepted your suggestion?]
[Before things spiraled irreversibly, he chose to loosen his control over Little Deer, handing him over to you. And you, knowing you couldn’t resist Little Deer’s temptations, requested professional supervision for Little Deer. The psychologist is that professional.]
Hao Mingrui suddenly shivered.
“You know you can’t resist Little Deer’s temptations”—yes, he couldn’t.
“Request professional supervision for Little Deer”—exactly his style.
“Accepted your suggestion”—he’d been urging old Lin to let go; this possibility wasn’t far-fetched.
Director Hao had initially thought Shen Leyuan was just stressed and guessing wildly, planning to tease him. But under this rational breakdown, unease crept in. He could almost trace the logic chain behind the “erotica.”
—When the Lin Family Villa fell, old Lin would hand Little Deer over to him. With his own history of succumbing to Little Deer’s temptations—and the police station having fallen before—he’d definitely seek help from superiors, letting them pick a more suitable operative.
Besides Di Junya, the psychologist specifically handling Little Deer intel with proven resistance, who else would they choose?
In the story’s end, the whole world drowned in a sea of desire, everyone lost to the pleasures of lust and passion.
Director Hao’s breath turned icy.
The message chime snapped him from his chilling speculation. Glancing down, he saw the young man’s sheepish addendum.
[Though, this assumes you guys trust Doctor Di completely. Maybe I’m overthinking it [awkward.jpg]]
He typed a line, deleted it, typed again.
Finally, Director Hao replied: [How about you skip this doctor for now?]
Shen Leyuan was on the job, but superiors still needed to observe him awhile before granting more access. Some things couldn’t be said outright.
Worst of all, Di Junya was that evaluator.
Shen Leyuan: [I don’t like this one. Already on my way back.]
He had a psychologist he chatted with pretty regularly on WeChat anyway. It was this one’s idea to start live-streaming; later, talking about quitting, one line stuck with him: Stay away from people and things that make you uncomfortable.
In short: Away from this uncomfortable psychologist!
“Next.”
Di Junya leisurely finished jotting the last notes in the case file before looking up, a faint 45-degree smile on his lips. “You…”
His smile froze. “Which one are you?”
The basketball kid bashfully showed his ticket. “I’m number 12. Number 11 had something come up and left early, so…”
The jersey kid mumbled shyly: “What a coincidence—my jersey’s number 12 too.”
Di Junya’s smile stiffened further.
Exhausted after seeing off the last student, he pulled out his phone: [Hello, I noticed you left midway. Shall I refund your appointment fee via WeChat?]
Money matters always got replies, and Shen Leyuan wasn’t one to waste others’ time. Perfect opener.
Wearing a smile of assured victory, the man got a bright red exclamation mark instead.
Di Junya: …
Again! Still like this! Always like this!
From the moment he noticed Shen Leyuan, every attempt flopped: inviting him to meet up in person—rejected; hinting to chat more about Little Deer—unfriended; spamming rewards in the stream—refunded. Dressing as man, woman, old, or young couldn’t pierce Shen Leyuan’s defenses. He’d even been sweet-talked into doing two weeks of homework.
Maybe just drop it.
Di Junya thought calmly: Shen Leyuan’s boring. Nothing special like Little Deer.
His alt account suddenly pinged: [Cat Doctor, you free anytime?]
“Cat Doctor” whipped out his phone for an instant reply: [Yes]
Shen Leyuan: [Here’s the thing—you said it’d be best to see you in person. When works for you?]
Di Junya deleted “today,” pretending to check: [Let me see my schedule.]
Teary cat emoji: [Tomorrow?]
The other side seemed to be typing a longer message. Foreboding hit Di Junya; he hurriedly added: [Tomorrow’s wide open.]
Teary cat: [No special plans.]
Teary cat: [I’m on shift anyway, won’t bother me.]
Teary cat: [Come anytime.]
Shen Leyuan deleted his input—”If you’re busy, we can reschedule; no rush”—and typed simply: [Got it, see you tomorrow.]
Di Junya stared broodingly at his phone for ages, confirming no recall. Only then did he exhale, routinely exporting surveillance footage and compiling every scrap he could grab.
Late at night, he entered a certain room in the basement.
Bright lights bathed the walls crammed with photos reflecting in his eyes. The left and center walls were plastered with Little Deer—every bit of intel he’d gathered on the job. The right wall was Shen Leyuan—recently collected odds and ends.
Pinning up new pics, Di Junya stepped back with a grin to admire.
Little Deer was like an alien “species,” while Shen Leyuan was more like an imported “laborer.” Compared to the latter, the former was what he craved to study most.
But he couldn’t reach Little Deer yet. A bite of substitute would do.
Then he frowned.
Shen Leyuan had seen his face. Psychologists couldn’t just wear masks in sessions, so tomorrow…
Hmm, not impossible to handle.
Dawn came both fast and slow.
Ever since realizing he had psychological issues, Shen Leyuan hadn’t slept well. He woke early today, tossing and turning restlessly.
Little Dog leaped into his arms with a thud, licking the back of his hand.
“It’s okay,” Shen Leyuan murmured, rubbing Little Dog’s ears and kissing its head. “Daddy knows there’s a bug in his heart and needs to treat it early. Off to the psychologist today.”
It was only 4:30 a.m., sky still dark outside.
He petted the dog in silence for a bit, then called: “Mr. Chu?”
No response.
Mr. Ghost appeared less and less—probably leaving soon. He was mentally prepared but afraid to ask.
Pretending Mr. Ghost was in the room, Shen Leyuan whispered: “I’m a little scared.”
Little Dog whined and nuzzled his cheek.
Shen Leyuan hugged it tighter, murmuring: “Actually, I used to be a teacher. I died once. I thought it was a truck that hit me, but… it doesn’t seem like that. Or at least, not just that.”
The aversion to buses, the screams in his hallucinations, the excessive focus on Little Deer…
He dissected and examined himself, peeling back layers like drawing silk from a cocoon.
He was a mature veteran teacher who never self-sabotaged before. He knew Little Deer and Lin Yao weren’t his responsibility, could handle it professionally—yet he kept investing emotions, even preparing a future room for Little Deer.
What exactly did I lose in those missing memories?
He dragged himself through until 7:30, groggily washing up and dressing, crate in hand with Little Dog. He arrived at the hospital ten minutes early for their 9 a.m. appointment, stopping outside the counseling room.
He could go in early, but…
Shen Leyuan pressed his lips, tempted to step back and stall.
An invisible hand suddenly gripped his. Mr. Ghost patted his shoulder, using his hand to type a few words.
[Don’t be scared. I’m here.]
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