Sun Mei, I've come to see you.
Even though he was never particularly fond of Sun Mei, he couldn't deny that she had saved him twice. Her fate had been horrible beyond imagining.
No matter one's luck, life always comes to an end, like the ash from the fire. Whirling through the air, only to be broken to pieces and forgotten.
Love will be there in the next world, too. Just remember to be happy.
Fang Mu held the final bundle of money for a long time. It wasn't until the fire had almost died that he tossed it in.
I hope you too can find some happiness there, Wu Han.
When he returned to his dorm room, Fang Mu felt unspeakably exhausted. However, his mind was at peace.
He felt this way every time he memorialized the dead, as if the burden he carried was somehow lightened.
Fang Mu slumped carelessly onto his desk chair. Moonlight shined through the open window. Softly, gently, it blanketed Fang Mu, seeming almost tangible. A light wind brushed his face, the air cool and refreshing. It felt wonderful, as if it were passing right through him, leaving him translucent and pure. He rested his head against the windowpane. His eyelids grew heavier and heavier…
Several minutes later, Fang Mu woke with a start.
Du Yu was talking in his sleep. "Actually, B Cafeteria's spare ribs are the best!"
Rubbing his temples, Fang Mu leaned over and switched on his computer.
The machine buzzed to life. Half a minute later, he opened a folder on his hard drive titled "Ma Kai".
Fang Mu's face was tinted blue in the light of the screen, his eyes once more cold, weary, and incomparably sharp.
CHAPTER 8
"Oh, it's you. Come in."
"I'm not disturbing you?"
"Not at all. Some water?"
"Yes, thank you."
"Did you finish those books?"
"Yeah, I actually came by today to return them."
"How were they? Could you understand them?"
"Only some parts. A lot of it I didn't understand at all."
"No problem. That's perfectly normal. Those books really were a little deep for you. How have you been recently?"
"Pretty good."
"Still your complexion's not looking so great. Is it the same thing as before? The thing you're afraid of?"
"Um…yeah, it is."
"Then can you tell me what it is exactly that you're afraid of?"
No response.
"Look at me. I hope that you trust me. I might be able to help."
The student sighed.
"All right. I'm…afraid of roll call."
"Roll call?"
"It's really strange, isn't it?"
"No, I actually don't find it strange in the least. I once knew someone who was afraid to cross bridges by himself."
"Really? Afraid to cross bridges?"
"That's right. Eventually he wouldn't even walk down fairly narrow streets alone. His wife had to go with him."
"But why? Was it another phobia?"
"Correct. In fact, it's another manifestation of agoraphobia. This man had been pampered since he was young. Everything was done for him, and after marrying he relied entirely on his wife to take care of things. Therefore, he developed a subconscious need to be near her, like a child. But on the surface he refused to admit this puerile need, so his agoraphobia functioned as a way of forcing his wife to stay by his side."
"Did he get better?"
"Of course. Thanks to a combination of medicinal treatment and behavioral therapy, he was soon completely cured."
"Oh. So he needed to use medication to recover?"
"Of course. So how about it? Will you tell me why you're afraid of roll call?"
"To be honest, I don't really know myself."
"Indeed? Well in that case, when did you first became afraid of it?"
"Hmm. I-don't remember that either. I'm sorry."
"Don't worry about it. Here, come lie down on this couch. How is it? Comfortable?"
"Yeah, really comfortable."
"Would you like to listen to some music?"
"Okay."
"Let's listen to this one first."
The sound of Mozart's Cradle Song filled the room. Next was Mendelssohn's A Midsummer Night's Dream. Then Tsai Chin's Lost Time.
"Which was the most relaxing?"
"The last one. I couldn't understand the first two."
"Okay. How many classes did you attend this afternoon?"
"What? Oh, um, two classes."
"Then what did you do?"
"Played some basketball."
" That's a pretty packed day. Do you feel tired?"
"A little."
"That's good. I want you to imagine that you're just relaxing. Now please follow what I say. First, get as comfortable as possible. Then relax your body and begin taking deep breaths."
"…Like this?"
"Yes, very good. Breathe out slowly, just like that. Excellent. Now one more time. Take a deep breath, and then exhale. Good. What sort of environment do you like?"
"Um, how about the beach?"
"All right, then imagine that you're lying on the beach right now. The sea breeze is cool and refreshing. Very pleasant. The waves crash rhythmically against the shore. Whoosh, whoosh, like that, one after another. Can you sense your inner mind? Very good. Use it to feel every part of your body. When you feel your head, your head will relax. When you feel your chest and back, your body will relax. As you relax your torso, your breathing will become smoother and smoother. When you feel your arms, your arms will relax. When you feel your legs, your legs will relax. Your body is becoming more and more relaxed, more and more relaxed… Good. How do you feel now?"
"Very…comfortable. My mind feels so… so at ease. My body-it's like there's a…white light."
His voice was low, as if every word required a huge effort.
"Very good. Quietly enjoy it."
Five minutes passed.
"Okay. I will now count slowly from one to ten. When I reach ten, your subconscious will return you to a time in the past, and you will witness an event that has had an enormous impact on you. When I reach ten, no matter what you see or feel, you will speak it aloud. Afterwards, if it is a happy memory you will remember it, and if it's not a happy memory, you will let it go. All right?"
The student slowly nodded.
"Okay, then let's begin. 1…2…3…4…5…6…7…8…9…10."
Suddenly, the student's eyeballs began moving rapidly beneath his eyelids. The man smiled. Very good. This meant his subconscious was already giving him information.
"We're in the courtyard… I can smell roasted grasshoppers… Dad took me home on his bike… I have to finish my homework before I can go play… Wooden gun… Much better than Big Meng's."
He must not be older than ten in this memory, the man thought.
"I'm in a sandpit, playing machine gun war with my friends." His voice was now more childish, livelier. "…Little Fatty is such a cheater; he never lies down when he dies… I can see PLA soldiers drilling over there." His voice was full of admiration and longing. "They're so awesome… Left, right, left; left, right, left… Roll call.… Wang Libo, here. Meng Fanzhe, here… Huh, what's wrong with him? Why won't he answer when they say his name? Oh, no, now the officer is angry." His voice became fearful. "They're calling his name again… Why can't he say it? They're calling him again… Come on, you can do it… Is he stuttering? No, don't hurt him. His body began to shake. "…So much blood… They punished him; he's running alone around the field…"
Suddenly his breathing became fast and his body began to convulse.
"What do you see?"
"I've fallen." He began to cry. "… My forehead… The blood won't stop… Gym teacher… Roll call… He hits me… Please no…"
"That's enough; this memory is over. Now then, the things you saw just now are imprinted deep in your consciousness, and at all times are never far from your mind, correct?"