Chapter 8

The three of them froze simultaneously, and Dr. Zhao’s hand stopped mid-injection.

“Try to organize your thoughts more clearly and try again?” Dr. Zhao bent down, looking into Qi Cheng’s eyes, his tone cautious and careful.

When Qi Cheng had an episode, he would become isolated from the outside world, unable to hear sounds or see anything. Situations like now, where he could manage to squeeze out a few words, were extremely rare.

Qi Cheng’s lips trembled, his eyes struggling to focus, but he could no longer produce any sound. He could only futilely cling to Qi Ning’s arm.

“I didn’t tell her,” Qi Ning crouched down to meet Qi Cheng’s eye level. She didn’t dare touch him directly, only emphasizing her words, “She only knows that the cameras can record sound. She doesn’t know anything else.”

Qi Cheng frowned.

All sounds seemed to come through a thick fog, reaching his ears with echoes, making them difficult to understand clearly.

But the warmth of Qi Ning’s arm that he was gripping in his hand was real and tangible.

The surrounding light was very bright, with distorted colors swirling dizzyingly, hurting his eyes. He vaguely remembered that he had turned off the circuit breaker earlier.

So, people really had come to the house; this wasn’t a hallucination.

The words “I didn’t tell her” finally became clear in his mind. He slowly released Qi Ning’s arm, his head buried in the pillow, shaking slightly.

The voices through the fog, though faint and intermittent, were becoming increasingly clearer.

“His condition is much better than expected,” Dr. Zhao said.

“No need for medication?” Brother-in-law Zhou Jingshuo’s voice sounded relieved.

…Had he experienced another episode? Every time it happened, they had to rush over. To prevent their grandfather, who lived in the Qi family’s old mansion, from worrying, Qi Ning and Zhou Jingshuo would always call Dr. Zhao first, only telling everyone else after his symptoms had subsided.

His eyes still struggled to focus, but he felt a faint stinging sensation on the back of his hand.

Would he still need medication? The kind that made him excitable and unable to sleep.

“You’ve been sweating too much, causing an electrolyte imbalance,” Dr. Zhao’s voice became much clearer. “No SSRI medications this time, just regular glucose and a sedative to help you sleep.”

Qi Cheng looked up, his lips dry and pale from dehydration and lack of oxygen, but the fog before his eyes had largely dispersed.

“Rest well and sleep. We’ll stay until the IV is finished. I’ll come back tomorrow morning for another check-up,” Dr. Zhao smiled, this time not using his usual professional tone.

After being locked in the wardrobe for so long and experiencing severe dehydration, Qi Cheng finally began to drift off once he fully relaxed. Before completely falling asleep, he remembered Qi Ning’s words: “She doesn’t know anything else.”

The person across the hall knows nothing…

That’s good…

…

“The progress is remarkably good,” Dr. Zhao’s face lit up with joy only after Qi Cheng had fallen asleep.

Qi Cheng had indeed experienced an episode this time. Normally, with medication and psychological counseling, one episode would take at least one to two months to recover from.

This time, however, Qi Cheng had managed to pull himself out of it on his own.

“Check the hallway surveillance footage from the past couple of days,” Dr. Zhao pushed up his glasses. “Something must have happened between him and the neighbor to cause such progress.”

The entire villa was equipped with high-definition surveillance cameras everywhere except in Qi Cheng’s living area, and there were numerous emergency buttons installed on the walls of his home.

Qi Cheng only sought medical help after his psychological issues had become so severe that he couldn’t care for himself. Regular systematic desensitization therapy had no effect on him; he would even have episodes if there were two breathing sounds in the same space.

Because of this, Grandfather Qi had sent him here, and no one expected that this stay would last almost ten years.

The surveillance footage was checked quickly, and their only interaction stood out clearly among the quiet recordings.

Dr. Zhao, elated by Qi Cheng’s progress, couldn’t help but laugh when he saw the moment Qi Cheng threw the note.

Only Qi Ning remained silent throughout, her expression displeased.

“You don’t trust Chi Zhihan?” Zhou Jingshuo understood his wife; to her, Chi Zhihan was just a chef, working here for thirty days, someone whose face in the surveillance footage matched the typical profile in Qi Cheng’s medical history.

Chi Zhihan’s actions in the surveillance footage had seriously overstepped boundaries.

“She’s not simple,” Qi Ning didn’t want to elaborate.

Chi Zhihan was far from being as naive as she appeared; though well-versed in social etiquette, she liked to play dumb in front of others, and the more pressure she felt, the sweeter her smile became.

She would prefer if Chi Zhihan were just money-driven, doing her job without unnecessary involvement. She didn’t believe that such nosy curiosity could improve Qi Cheng’s condition.

But now, they were in a difficult position.

Whether it was because of Chi Zhihan or not, Qi Cheng’s recent improvement was a fact. He had even forced himself to create a crack in his isolated world to ask about her.

This kind of determination was something Qi Ning had never seen in Qi Cheng before.

Qi Cheng, though he hadn’t mentioned it aloud, had shown through his behavior in the surveillance footage and his unusually proactive demeanor that he wanted to make friends—for the first time since his illness, he showed clear social needs.

And of all people, it had to be the inscrutable Chi Zhihan across the hall.

Chi Zhihan, who always greeted everyone with a smile despite clearly disliking them.

She had hired many private chefs before, including some around Qi Cheng’s age, but after thirty days, Qi Cheng had only drawn a few more storyboard panels, nothing more significant.

Yet Chi Zhihan had achieved this in just ten days.

Appearance truly was a curse; she shouldn’t have taken this risk.

“Are you worried that Qi Cheng might suffer secondary trauma from someone of the same type?” Dr. Zhao sighed.

Treating Qi Cheng was like fighting a war.

All treatment plans had to be approved by the Qi family through voting, and if Qi Cheng showed any signs of discomfort during treatment, it would be immediately terminated.

He understood the family’s desire to protect Qi Cheng, but as a doctor, he had said multiple times that such protection might keep Qi Cheng trapped in this cycle of deterioration for life.

“I want to use Chi Zhihan for in-vivo desensitization therapy with Qi Cheng,” Dr. Zhao was unusually insistent this time. “Qi Cheng’s condition has always made this kind of psychological treatment impossible. This might be our only chance.”

“If Chi Zhihan truly isn’t as simple as she appears, that actually makes her the ideal subject for desensitization therapy,” Dr. Zhao pointed at the sleeping Qi Cheng. “I’ve always opposed the fact that he hasn’t left this place for ten years and only interacts with Qi family members.”

“I can only say this now because we’ve seen progress today. In Qi Cheng’s condition, if there’s no further improvement, he will definitely transition from phobia subtype to deep autism and depression, and by then it will be too late.” Dr. Zhao pushed up his glasses again. “If the Qi family still opposes desensitization therapy this time, I might have to give up being Qi Cheng’s doctor.”

In-vivo desensitization therapy, as the name suggests, involves having patients list situations that trigger their social anxiety, then gradually exposing them to these situations, starting with the least frightening. Each step continues until the patient adapts and feels completely relaxed before moving on to a more challenging situation, until even the most intense situations no longer cause fear.

For Qi Cheng, this therapy would be simple: let him continue developing a deeper relationship with Chi Zhihan, and once feelings develop, have Chi Zhihan discuss Qi family gossip behind his back.

Simple and direct.

If unsuccessful, it would result in severe secondary trauma.

It might also lead to Qi Cheng never being able to leave this building for the rest of his life.

Qi Ning lowered her head; she couldn’t make such a decision: “Even if you convince me, it doesn’t mean the Qi family will let you do something so risky.”

“Take a photo of this and send it to his older brother Qi Peng, let Qi Peng handle it,” Dr. Zhao walked to Qi Cheng’s window and lifted his long sleeve, revealing obvious scars on his arm.

“Early signs of self-harm in depression,” Dr. Zhao spoke matter-of-factly to the shocked faces of Qi Ning and her husband. “It was bound to happen; he’s already held out remarkably well.”

Whether to proceed or not, both paths led to a precipice.

…

When Chi Zhihan brought her carefully made date paste eyebrow pastries to the door across the hall, she was greeted by an unfamiliar man, and the atmosphere was so tense she wanted to flee immediately.

“…Late-night snack,” she timidly raised the plate in her hands, missing the small window from before. This man’s gaze was too intimidating.

“Miss Chi?” The man in the suit loosened his tie and extended his right hand, showing Chi Zhihan a bright smile. “I’m Qi Ning’s husband, Zhou Jingshuo.”

Zhou Jingshuo, the outsider who, according to legend, had taken over all the Qi family’s business alongside his wife Qi Ning…

Chi Zhihan freed one hand to shake his, feeling her smile beginning to falter.

Who exactly lived across the hall? Why did everyone who came out seem so formidable?

None of them were people she could afford to offend… the kind she wouldn’t even dare run from…

“You violated the contract terms a few days ago by having unauthorized dialogue with the resident here. You’re aware of this, right?” Zhou Jingshuo stepped forward, closing the neighboring door.

…

Chi Zhihan stepped back with her plate, mental alarms blaring.

“We don’t know your purpose in initiating dialogue, but actively currying favor with the neighbor won’t benefit your career.” Zhou Jingshuo remained stationary, his lips curving into a calculating smile.

Chi Zhihan bit her lip, her smile slowly fading, remaining silent.

He was toying with her like a cat with a mouse, condescending and scrutinizing.

His contempt was so obvious that she felt she could barely maintain her smile this time.

What was so great about being rich? What was the point of threatening her like this late at night? Her deeply buried self-respect began to stir, and her fingers holding the plate turned white from tension.

“We don’t wish to entangle ourselves with Miss Chi; fining you for contract violation means little to us.” Zhou Jingshuo maintained his pattern of saying half and pausing half, satisfied to see Chi Zhihan’s expression gradually darkening.

Indeed, she was a young woman who liked to play dumb, but her inexperience made her easy to read.

She persisted in not speaking, neither defending against his contract violation accusations nor asking what she needed to do after breaking it.

She just stood there holding the plate, her face pale, appearing completely at his mercy.

If not for those eyes that occasionally betrayed her thoughts, most men would have been softened by such a pitiful appearance.

“We’ll be adding contract clauses. I’ll come by tomorrow afternoon to discuss the details with you.” Having said his piece, he had no intention of further engagement, turning to open the door and closing it without a backward glance.

Chi Zhihan maintained her position holding the plate, looking at the six delicate eyebrow pastries, then reached out to put one in her mouth.

Sweet and soft.

She could only let them have their way. But her reluctance to argue seemed to easily anger people. Both Qi Ning and Mr. Zhou Jingshuo were like this – did they need to see her angry to consider it genuine emotion? Why bother…

The outcome would be the same; she might as well save her energy.

But this quagmire seemed to be getting deeper and deeper.