Le deuxième livre de la série Oolong Wizard , intitulé The Normal Mind

Chapitre 14

Finally, Hu Tianjun was carried off the football field, while Jiang Boyu was taken away from the scene by two teachers from the student affairs office.

The game came to an abrupt end, and no one knew how things would unfold. Almost everyone looked dejected.

The setting sun was like blood, and the twilight after the storm was exceptionally quiet. There were only a few people left on the field, with only He Jihong and Wang Danyang still sitting on the grass, plotting something.

"That was fucking satisfying! That was fucking exhilarating!" Shen Wei described the scene to the group of people who had gathered around him in the dormitory.

"This is even more exciting than beating up Ximen Qing! Jiang Boyu really saved the beauty this time! It's just that the guy surnamed Hu is too weak!" Shen Wei was saying when He Jihong and Wang Danyang stood silently at the door.

"Hey, it's you guys? Looking for the coach? He's not back yet." Duan Youzhi, with his sharp eyes, was the first to greet them.

"Shen Wei! Bring the videotape and come with us!" Wang Danyang said without any expression on his face.

Shen Wei stuck out his tongue and quickly pulled the tape out of the camera. He obediently followed them out the door.

“Jiang Boyu will definitely be punished! He started it! I think the guy surnamed Hu is also badly injured.” Wang Danyang spoke first as they walked.

“That’s because that grandson of the Hu family did something too wicked! Evil will be punished, right, Senior Sister?” Shen Wei said.

"That's why I came to you. Luckily, I still have some evidence," Wang Danyang said.

He Jihong remained almost completely silent the entire way, only listening to their discussion.

Shen Wei was taken directly out of the school by the two women and then taken by bus to a wedding planning company next to the city's TV station that could film and produce DVDs.

Here, they watched the videotape together and even filmed two more copies. On the way back, Shen Wei said, "If that goal had been offside, I'd cut off my head and use it as a football."

Heart Dust, Part Four

It feels like a lifetime ago.

Three years have passed. Time has flown by. Many have grown old, many have left. And yet, he has chosen to return once again.

That high threshold had once seemed insurmountable, and that pool of corpses filled with formaldehyde had once seemed unfathomably deep. But none of that could stop his longing.

He prayed countless nights and fled in panic before countless dawns. He once loved the sunlight so much, but before the sun rose, he had to return to the cold and darkness.

Formalin solution can only block the breakdown of proteins, but it cannot stop his unfulfilled wish. The leap between life and death was but a moment for him; but the leap between love and hate would take ten thousand years. Besides, he had no hate; his heart was filled only with love—perhaps the body could grow cold, but love would forever burn brightly.

Now, he has finally returned to the world he has longed for day and night. Although, it exists in a different form.

He had no desires; he only had one heart and one wish.

Yan Hao felt that if the world wasn't going crazy, then he was going crazy.

On the very night he received the blood type identification form from Teacher Xia, he called his mother.

“It’s definitely type B. You’re my son, how could I be wrong?” the mother said on the phone. Under Yan Hao’s repeated questioning, she added, “I know exactly how many moles and scars you have, let alone your blood type. Why are you asking this?”

Yan Hao didn't tell his mother about the Rh blood type on the phone. After hanging up, he felt truly isolated and helpless.

For the next week, he often felt, in fleeting moments, that he was no longer Yan Hao, but someone else entirely. Someone else was studying, eating, and thinking. He, on the other hand, became an observer. This feeling terrified him, even making him wonder if he was developing schizophrenia.

That Thursday afternoon, during an elective course on the history of Western philosophy, the teacher, while introducing the origins of Western philosophy, said, "On the gate of the ancient Greek Temple of Teramont, there is an inscription that reads: 'Who am I?'" This sentence suddenly stunned Yan Hao. He felt that the three words "Who am I?" were so intriguing that he spent the entire day absentmindedly pondering this question.

"Am I Yan Hao? But Yan Hao is just a name, a symbol."

"Am I a specific body? Then is Yan Hao with blood type B the same person as Yan Hao with Rh-negative blood?"

"Can I exist outside of my physical body?"—Yan Hao was suddenly startled when he thought of this. "Could it be? Have I become an idealist? Do I no longer believe in the scientific view that life is just a molecular polymer capable of biochemical reactions?"

"Then, what is thought? If we follow the old maid professor's view, thought is just the transmission of electrical signals caused by depolarization, hyperpolarization, or repolarization in cells, right?" Yan Hao suddenly found this idea ridiculous. It seemed that humans had explained their own life phenomena in a way that was too naive and too objective.

In Shen Zihan's and the others' view, Yan Hao's biggest change was that he seemed preoccupied and had become much more taciturn.

On Tuesday, during the systemic anatomy theory class, a young lecturer was just reading from the textbook, which was really boring for everyone. Shen Zihan, who was sitting next to Yan Hao, would ask him whenever he had nothing to do, "What's wrong, Haozi? You're always so listless."

Yan Hao was stunned for a long time, then touched his forehead, sighed, and said, "I feel like I'm becoming less and less like myself as I get older."

"Are you possessed? You probably disturbed some female ghost when we went to the anatomy lab that day." Shen Zihan winked as he spoke.

Yan Hao glared at him. "Even if you went that day—humph, do you think your roast chicken from Daokou can win people's hearts? Sigh, I can't explain why, it's like there's some force pushing you to go there."

"Damn it, stop acting all innocent after eating chicken! Pretending to be a gentleman again, huh?" Shen Zihan pinched Yan Hao's arm hard under his seat. "Let me tell you, kid, you've been acting weird lately."

Yan Hao suddenly became a little nervous and asked in a low voice, "What's wrong?"

"His complexion is sallow, and his voice has become deeper—but he looks more weathered and sexy." Shen Zihan couldn't help but laugh as he said this. "Also, he talks in his sleep a lot."

"What did I say? Why didn't you tell me?" Yan Hao asked, feigning calmness, but his heart was pounding.

"Who knows what you were saying, just mumbling. You know, your voice when you talk in your sleep is really not your usual voice. Oh my, it scared us to death." Seeing the teacher on the podium glance at their seats, Shen Zihan lowered his head even further. "Liao Guangzhi even said he'd get you some deworming medicine, saying that only people with intestinal parasites in the countryside talk in their sleep."

Yan Hao's face turned pale.

It was another weekend. In the evening, Wang Yanyan came to visit his fellow villager Shen Zihan.

Liao Guangzhi and Alien Boy went out to be night watchmen. Yan Hao didn't go anywhere; he was half-lying on the bed reading Alien Boy's nearly tattered copy of "Demi-Gods and Semi-Devils." Under the bed, next to the computer desk, Shen Zihan and Wang Yanyan were chatting enthusiastically in Northeastern dialect.

Shen Zihan excitedly recounted their nighttime intrusion into the anatomy classroom to Wang Yanyan, meticulously describing the strange noises and footsteps they had heard. Wang Yanyan said, "I told you it was haunted. Everyone else has used this trick before. It's just that some strange phenomena have been heard and seen that have created these rumors."

Then Wang Yanyan changed the subject and asked Shen Zihan, "Have you ever witnessed hypnosis?" Shen Zihan shook his head and said, "I've only seen it on TV."

Wang Yanyan said, "We just started a course on medical psychology, and the old man who teaches it really likes to talk about these things. Things like the subconscious and special abilities. Last time in class, he even told us about a case where a drop of water killed someone."

Shen Zihan immediately became interested. "Hehe, killing with a drop of water? Tell me about it!" Yan Hao, who was lying on the bed, also perked up his ears.

Wang Yanyan said, "This is an example he gave when explaining the principles of hypnosis. He said that an ancient king, having nothing better to do, came up with a brilliant way to punish criminals. He had the criminals blindfolded and made a small cut on their wrists with a sharp instrument—though it didn't actually cut them. He just made that gesture. Then, he connected a bucket to a hose and let the water drip from the hose into an iron basin on the ground. He then told the criminal, 'Your blood is dripping out, and you will slowly die soon.' The criminal listened to the dripping water and died shortly afterward."

Shen Zihan said, "Were you scared to death?"

Wang Yanyan said, "Yes, you could say he was killed by his own subconscious. The old man said that hypnosis is about unlocking the energy of the subconscious through hypnosis—to treat problems that modern medicine, especially psychiatry, cannot solve."

Yan Hao leaned down and asked, "Brother Yan, what's the difference between the subconscious and the conscious mind?"

Wang Yanyan thought for a moment and said, "If what he said is true, the power of the subconscious is beyond people's imagination. But I don't really know what it is. In the last class, he also said that anyone who wants to experience hypnosis can just come to him. Hehe, seeing how weird he is, I guess no one will go."

Shen Zihan said, "That's too far-fetched, we don't believe in that." Then the two of them started talking about how to spend Christmas.

Wang Yanyan stayed until 10:30 before getting up to leave. Yan Hao, who hadn't said a word until then, suddenly asked, "Brother Wang, what's the name of that psychology teacher?"

“Zhou Yifeng. I heard he has a nickname among the teachers: Madman Zhou.” Wang Yanyan said as she opened the door. “He always talks about Freud.”

That afternoon, after watching the video on histology and embryology, Yan Hao dragged Shen Zihan along, saying he wanted to go find that teacher named Zhou Yifeng.

Shen Zihan stared at him and asked, "You really want to go? Didn't you hear Wang Yanyan say he's mentally ill?"

Yan Hao said, "That's nonsense. My dad used to be a neurologist, and I've heard him talk about psychotherapy at home. I even found some Freud books on his bookshelf, like 'Psychoanalysis.' That shows that hypnosis has a scientific basis. You know I've been feeling unwell lately, so I'll go ask him for advice."

Shen Zihan thought for a moment and said, "Alright, I'll repay you this time. Consider it risking my life to accompany you." So the two of them headed straight for the Clinical Medicine Department building, which was located on the same avenue adjacent to the Basic Medical Sciences Department, without even taking off their white coats.

In the psychology department on the top floor of the clinical medicine building, they easily met Zhou Yifeng—the director of the medical psychology department at the medical university. His department was probably the smallest in the entire university, with only three people including Zhou Yifeng. The other two were female master's students from the Institute of Psychology, Chinese Academy of Sciences, who had recently been assigned there.

Zhou Yifeng had gray hair and three deep wrinkles on his forehead. He was extremely thin, with sunken eyes and a slightly hooked nose. He was very energetic, and it was difficult to judge his real age at first glance.

“Professor Zhou, we are students from the Class of 2002 in Clinical Medicine. We wanted to ask you some questions.” Yan Hao introduced himself to Zhou Yifeng, who had his hands in his work pockets, looked deep in thought, and blocked them at the door.

"Come in and let's talk." Zhou Yifeng thought for a moment before stepping aside. But there wasn't a trace of a smile on his face. Shen Zihan thought to himself, "Damn it, is he getting impatient because it's almost time to get off work?"

The teaching and research office had several rooms inside and out. Zhou Yifeng led them directly to the director's office in the inner room.

"What's the problem? Tell me," Zhou Yifeng said lazily, leaning back in a high-backed wheelchair. He blinked as he looked Yan Hao up and down. Shen Zihan, sitting to the side, thought, "Judging by his eyes, he probably thinks everyone who comes to him is mentally ill. No wonder Wang Yanyan said he's weird."

"I... I haven't been feeling well lately. I always feel disoriented. I feel like I'm being controlled by some inexplicable force," Yan Hao said seriously, an anxious expression on his face. Shen Zihan, however, wanted to laugh. He thought the old man would definitely say Yan Hao had mental health issues. What does it mean to be controlled by some force? Isn't that just wild imagination?!

"Also, I keep having nightmares, like about corpses or something," Yan Hao added while Zhou Yifeng was thinking.

"Where do you think that power controlling you comes from? Can you describe it?" Zhou Yifeng rested his chin on one hand and twirled a Parker pen in the other.

Yan Hao shook his head. "It's just a feeling. And I've heard and seen things that don't exist in reality." As he spoke, the face in the blood and the inexplicable sigh appeared in Yan Hao's mind. But he didn't plan to tell Zhou Yifeng about the blood type test.

"Controlling forces, auditory hallucinations, visual hallucinations?" Zhou Yifeng shifted his posture, leaning forward slightly. He frowned slightly. "Have you ever taken any medications for an extended period?"

"No! But I had a cold and fever two weeks ago and received IV fluids at the school clinic."

"Do you have any family members or relatives with mental illnesses, to the best of your knowledge?"

No. Absolutely not!

Have you experienced any unhappiness recently? For example, a breakup, failing an exam, or the death of a loved one?

Yan Hao shook his head again.

Zhou Yifeng shifted his position. Now he was fully reclined in the chair. "It might be due to temporary stress, or anxiety and obsessive-compulsive disorder caused by not adapting well to university life... Hmm! I think your condition falls into the category of mild to moderate psychological disorder."

Yan Hao remained silent. Shen Zihan thought the old man was quick to draw conclusions. He figured about 80% of the people who came to him would end up being diagnosed with psychological issues.

"Then... is there a better way to solve this problem?" Yan Hao asked in a low voice.

“Professor Zhou, I’m his classmate, and I can tell he’s really in pain. And there’s no particular reason,” Shen Zihan interjected.

Zhou Yifeng seemed to be still thinking. The pen in his hand kept spinning between three fingers.

"Would you be willing to undergo hypnotherapy? This will help me understand the cause of your illness more clearly." Zhou Yifeng leaned forward again. "To put it figuratively—in a hypnotic state, I will communicate with your subconscious. This will allow me to understand where your anxiety and hallucinations are coming from."

Before Yan Hao could speak, Shen Zihan interrupted, asking, "Is there any danger?"

"Don't worry, there's no danger at all! And we don't charge students any fees." Zhou Yifeng managed a slight smile. "We've been working on this kind of research recently, trying to accumulate some case studies."

"Okay, let's give it a try!" Yan Hao said firmly. Shen Zihan glanced at him in surprise, thinking that this kid was really grasping at straws in his desperation. But his curiosity prevented him from expressing any further objections.

"Right now?" Yan Hao asked.

“Let’s do it now! I happen to have some free time!” Zhou Yifeng said as he stood up.

Led by Zhou Yifeng, they entered a room with a sign that read "Treatment Room" on the door. It was a suite; the outer room served as a lounge and office, while the inner room was the actual treatment room.

The treatment room was small, only about ten square meters, and roughly rectangular. A dark green carpet covered the floor, and beige floor-length curtains completely blocked the windows, creating a dim and tranquil atmosphere. Apart from two armchairs with backrests, there was no other furniture in the room.

Zhou Yifeng coldly told Shen Zihan, "You just wait outside."

Shen Zihan could only nod and leave dejectedly.

Zhou Yifeng had Yan Hao stand in the middle of the treatment room.

“Don’t think about anything, don’t try to control your body, just relax completely. Understand?” Zhou Yifeng said, hands in his pockets. “Okay—now close your eyes.”

Yan Hao nodded and obediently closed his eyes.

At this moment, Director Zhou Yifeng suddenly seemed like a different person, and his speech slowed down. "Now, feel your body swaying back and forth, gently swaying, rocking." His tone was extremely gentle and kind.

Yan Hao almost laughed, but he held it in. Then, his heart slowly calmed down...

After Yan Hao repeated this instruction, which made him shake his body, several times, Zhou Yifeng said, "Alright, open your eyes."