Chapter 23

Chapter 23

Shen Ling's eyes were still fixed on the empty darkness by the door, his pupils reflecting the strobing white lightning outside the window, as if he were completely locked into some invisible scene.

In his field of vision, the "Huo Yanshen" standing at the doorway turned around and took a step forward, exactly like he had that night.

The light, tangled with lightning, flashed wildly behind him. He didn't look back. He pushed the door open and melted into the darkness outside the bedroom.

"Don't—!"

Shen Ling suddenly jolted upright out of Huo Yanshen's arms.

His strength in that instant was astonishing—he forcibly wrenched himself free of the arm Huo Yanshen had half-wrapped around his back.

He stepped barefoot onto the carpet, his knees buckling and nearly giving out on him, but he didn't even stop to steady himself. He stumbled toward the door, both hands reaching out desperately, trying to grab hold of a shadow that was already dissolving.

"Don't go! It's raining outside! You can't drive—don't go—!!"

If some random person happened to pass by the door of this hotel suite at that moment, they'd witness a bizarre scene.

Shen Ling, wearing an oversized white sleep shirt, stood barefoot on the carpet, trembling all over, his hands flailing wildly, seemingly trying to talk to thin air.

Huo Yanshen rolled out of bed, closed the distance in two steps, and grabbed him from behind.

Shen Ling thrashed violently in his arms, his thin shoulders slamming into Huo Yanshen's chest, elbows jabbing at his ribs, both hands still reaching forward, fingernails clawing uselessly at the air.

"Let go! Let go of me... he's leaving, let go—"

"Baby, my good baby." Huo Yanshen's voice sounded steady, but if you listened closely, there was a faint tremor underneath.

He pulled Shen Ling into his arms, one palm cradling the back of his head, forcing him to turn his face toward him. "Look at me. That's not real, it's just a hallucination. I'm here. Look at me. I'm right here."

Shen Ling's eyes weren't focused on anything at all.

Even though he was facing Huo Yanshen, his gaze seemed to pass right through him, landing on something that wasn't there behind him.

His lips were trembling, his face pale. "He's leaving..."

Shen Ling whispered, barely audible, as if talking to himself. "He's going to buy dessert... It's raining outside... Mudslide... He can't drive..."

Huo Yanshen repeated, his voice low and hoarse: "That's fake, baby. Look at me. I'm here. I didn't leave. I didn't go anywhere."

Shen Ling couldn't hear him. All his senses were consumed by the figure walking away.

Unable to break free from Huo Yanshen's arms, he stretched out his hand with all his strength, reaching toward the door.

In his mind, Huo Yanshen had already reached the entryway, his hand on the doorknob, about to open the door. He had to catch him—if he waited just one more second, he would disappear...

The next second, his fingers met nothing but air.

Nothing.

"Huo Yanshen" pushed open the door without making a sound, and like a wisp of smoke, dissolving into the shifting light and shadow at the doorway.

Shen Ling's hand hung suspended in midair, his fingertips still curled as if grasping, but there was nothing left to hold.

Shen Ling stood there in a daze, still staring at the door, his eyes hollow with bewilderment.

He finally realized he had been talking to thin air, chasing someone who didn't exist.

It was happening again.

He slowly lowered his head and looked at his own hand. It was still trembling, fingertips ice-cold, fingernails tinged an unhealthy pale purple.

"...My medicine," Shen Ling said, his voice trembling. "Where's my medicine... give me my medicine..."

He turned around, fumbling blindly over the nightstand. His fingers knocked over the water glass, spilling water everywhere, but he didn't even glance at it. He just yanked open the drawer with shaking hands, searching for a long time, finding nothing.

"Where's my medicine... I know I put it here..."

Huo Yanshen's heart was about to shatter, but he knew that taking medication recklessly right now carried a huge risk of miscarriage—and since Shen Ling was a male carrier, it could even be life-threatening.

He could only come up behind him and gently wrap his hand around Shen Ling's, stopping his frantic search through the drawer. "Baby, can you hold on for a little while..."

Shen Ling understood. He couldn't take his medicine right now. He had to get through this on his own. He had to fight against the distorted images, sounds, and hallucinations in his mind without any chemical help—he could only endure it through sheer willpower.

He closed his eyes in despair, then turned and looked up at Huo Yanshen.

"It hurts... it hurts so bad..."

Huo Yanshen's phone screen lit up—he'd gotten replies to both the messages he'd sent to Wen Pei and Song Zhengqing.

He typed with one hand while keeping an eye on Shen Ling. After typing the last character, he tossed the phone aside and cupped Shen Ling's face in both hands.

"The doctor will be here soon," Huo Yanshen said, pressing his lips to Shen Ling's forehead, between his brows, and the corners of his eyes, kissing him again and again. "Baby, just hold on a little longer. Just a little."

Shen Ling leaned into him, face tilted up to receive his kisses. Huo Yanshen's lips were warm, slightly dry, and the sensation against his skin felt more real than any hallucination.

Shen Ling greedily soaked up these small pieces of proof that Huo Yanshen was alive.

But these touches were like a single drop of water falling onto cracked, parched soil—evaporating before it could even soak in.

The emptiness inside him was too vast. A few gentle kisses couldn't fill it.

Shen Ling opened his eyes, his gaze landing on Huo Yanshen's lips.

Shen Ling's teeth clashed against Huo Yanshen's lower lip, biting down hard.

His teeth sank into the soft flesh of the lip, and the metallic taste of blood exploded on his tongue. A muffled whimper escaped Shen Ling's throat—like something that had been held back for too long finally finding its way out.

The lips pressed against Huo Yanshen's parted slightly, and the tip of his tongue carefully licked across the small wound he'd bitten open, tasting a bit of blood, then retreated.

He tasted the blood.

Shen Ling extended his tongue and unconsciously licked his own lower lip, drawing the trace of blood into his mouth.

Huo Yanshen held his chin, studying him closely.

A small patch of Shen Ling's lips was stained red—it was Huo Yanshen's blood, slowly spreading. His lips, which had been pale and almost translucent, were now dyed a deep crimson, like a flower suddenly blooming in a snowy field—strikingly, alarmingly beautiful.

Huo Yanshen ignored the still-bleeding wound on his own lip. He lowered his head and gently kissed the blood-stained corner of Shen Ling's mouth, first the left side, then the right, kissing away every trace of blood.

"Feeling better?" he asked, his voice hoarse.

Shen Ling didn't answer. He just buried his face in the crook of Huo Yanshen's neck, the tip of his nose pressed against his pulse.

The doorbell rang.

Song Zhengqing pushed the door open and walked in.

Shen Ling curled up in Huo Yanshen's arms, wrapped in that cream-white silk pajama, his cheeks stained with damp tear tracks and traces of blood, his lips stained crimson with blood.

His pupils finally showed some response, shifting slightly with the sound of Song Zhengqing pushing open the door.

Song Zhengqing skipped the pleasantries. She put down her medical kit, took a seat in the chair by the bed, adjusted her breathing, and spoke.

"Shen Ling, I'm Song Zhengqing. Where are you right now?"

Shen Ling's eyes slowly drifted toward the sound. "At... the hotel."

Song Zhengqing nodded. "Good. What do you hear? Tell me."

Shen Ling's eyes instinctively flicked toward the window.

Song Zhengqing didn't wait for his answer, quickly following up, "It's just heavy rain. Look, the window is intact, the floor is dry, and the hallway you walked through is completely normal. Do you hear me? It's just the rain."

Song Zhengqing kept talking, and only then did Shen Ling's breathing gradually slow to match her voice.

After about twenty minutes, Shen Ling's breathing finally settled.

Shen Ling looked up at Song Zhengqing, the emptiness in his eyes fading into self-loathing and dejection. "Dr. Song, I had another episode..."

He instinctively pressed his hand to his lower belly.

"I can't even take care of myself. If he's with me, what if he ends up having nightmares too? I can't take care of him... I can't even carry him to full term."

Song Zhengqing reassured him, "Shen Ling, for any family expecting a baby, mood swings are completely normal. You did really well in the session just now—you've improved a lot since last time. None of this will be wasted; it'll become the coping skills you use to handle stress in the future..."

Shen Ling pursed his lips, his fingers slowly loosening in Huo Yanshen's hand.

Song Zhengqing observed his state, confirming that the immediate crisis was over for now.

She stood up, looked at Huo Yanshen, and naturally lowered her voice.

"Mr. Huo, can we talk for a second?"

Just as Huo Yanshen was about to rise, Shen Ling's hand suddenly clenched like he'd been shocked, jerking up from his embrace, both arms locking desperately around his waist, face buried in his chest.

Song Zhengqing glanced at Shen Ling's condition and quickly adjusted her approach. "It's fine, we can talk another day. Stay with him."

With that, she packed up her kit, nodded at Huo Yanshen, and left the room.

Three days later, early in the morning, Shen Ling was asleep in the bedroom.

Huo Yanshen stood on the balcony, the sliding door shut tight, phone pressed to his ear. Morning light hit his face, showing the dark circles under his eyes—who knows how many sleepless nights he'd had.

On the other end of the line, Song Zhengqing spoke.

"Mr. Huo, the situation is worse than I initially thought. After stopping the meds, his symptoms have rebounded hard. The hallucinations are more frequent and intense than expected, and he still hasn't had one real, full-on cry."

"His grief and fear are trapped behind a deep wall, unable to get out. If this keeps up, all that bottled-up emotion will turn inward, showing up as physical symptoms, or worse, severe depression. Given that he's pregnant right now, the risk of postpartum depression is much higher, and the chance of self-harm is extremely high. You need to prepare yourself for that."

Huo Yanshen's fingers tightened around the phone, knuckles going white. "What's the treatment plan, then?"

Song Zhengqing said, "If you agree, I recommend a more aggressive form of narrative exposure therapy. Have Shen Ling walk through his traumatic experiences one by one while fully conscious, with me guiding the desensitization."

"But there's one condition: you cannot be present during the sessions."

"What do you mean?" Huo Yanshen frowned.

"If you're there, all his attention will be on the fact that you're alive. You were in a car accident, and he blames himself for it. That guilt needs an objective third party to help him break through."

"After each session, you pick him up. Of course, your soothing also needs to be gradually reduced. His unhealthy dependence on you is itself a symptom. Like withdrawal—take it slow, otherwise his reliance on you will only deepen, and he'll eventually lose the ability to regulate his emotions independently."

Huo Yanshen's throat tightened. "...Is this the only option?"

Song Zhengqing sighed. "Of course, we have other choices—transcranial magnetic stimulation, vagus nerve stimulation, even deeper pharmacological interventions... but I don't need to emphasize the side effects of those."

Huo Yanshen buried his face in his palms, exhaling a deep breath of warm air.

He turned around and, through the gap in the door, saw Shen Ling on the bed in the bedroom.

Shen Ling was still asleep, lying on his side, curled into a small ball. His sleeping posture was peaceful, showing no trace of the breakdown from days ago. It always made one want to cling to false hope, to pretend none of it had ever happened.

Song Zhengqing's voice came through the receiver. "Mr. Huo, there's one thing I want to tell you in advance. If you insist on waiting outside, you may have to listen to him falling apart without being able to go in. Are you ready for that?"

Huo Yanshen pushed open the bedroom door and walked in.

He sat down by the bed, brushing Shen Ling's stray hair aside, revealing that small face, sound asleep.

Shen Ling sensed the familiar touch, unconsciously nuzzling against his palm in his sleep.

"...Mm."

The call was still connected. Song Zhengqing's breathing waited quietly on the other end.

Huo Yanshen closed his eyes. After a minute, he opened them again, his voice finally regaining its usual calm. "Schedule it. I'll talk to him."

==========Author's Note:==========

The male lead told the doctor, in order not to scare her, that he had been in a car accident and was in a vegetative state for several years, and that after waking up, the love interest had become like this.

PS: The psychological treatments described in this story are all made up by me based on random Baidu searches. If anyone has real issues, please consult a professional psychologist in time.