GV – Chapter 88

When you find out the person you love is entirely fictional, can you accept it?

Song Zhiqing could.

Because she had already accepted it once before.

Back when she was Ye Yuhuan, she had already accepted that the entire world was a fictional novel, and the person she loved was one of its villains.

After their conversation that day, Song Zhiqing became completely quiet.

She was like a seed blown down by a cold wind, waiting for the rain to come. It didn’t matter if the rain brought her back to life or soaked her until she rotted; she was, in any case, waiting for the rain.

And the act of waiting itself contains an element of anticipation, an emotion often indistinguishable from hope.

In Ye Mo’s eyes, Song Zhiqing was being very cooperative with her treatment. Her docile state made Ye Mo suspect that her intense emotional outburst upon first waking was merely due to the disorientation of switching worlds. At night, after finishing her work report, the coffee by her hand had long gone cold. She took a sip, and the torturous bitterness spread through her mouth, relaxing her face, which had been tense all day.

Ye Mo set down the coffee cup and gazed at the sharp crescent moon in the sky, an untimely sense of fatalistic melancholy washing over her.

The gentle yet firm shell she wore slowly peeled away, revealing eyes filled with the very same confusion and pain as Song Zhiqing’s.

Three days later, Uncle Yu came.

He looked much older. During the two years Song Zhiqing was in a coma, both her grandparents had passed away. Most of her other relatives were hoping she would die soon so they could divide the inheritance. In the end, the only person who truly cared if she lived or died was a driver from the Song family. Uncle Yu had tried every method imaginable to awaken the girl he had watched grow up, from experimental therapies to having a high monk perform a soul-calling ritual. The hardships and sorrows of his efforts were beyond words.

When he saw Song Zhiqing looking at him with open eyes, tears streamed down Uncle Yu’s old face. “Miss, you’re finally awake.”

Gazing at this familiar yet strange face, Song Zhiqing felt a daze come over her. She subconsciously glanced at the door, then let out a light, self-deprecating laugh. “The Song family is gone. I’m not a ‘Miss’ anymore. Uncle Yu, from now on, just call me Qingqing, like you did when I was little.”

Uncle Yu shook his head in disapproval, with the air of a blindly loyal character from a TV drama. “If it weren’t for Madam, I’d still be selling boxed lunches on a film set. Miss is Miss. That’s a line I can never cross.”

“Fine, have it your way.” Song Zhiqing didn’t want to argue with him. Continuing would only dredge up old matters that had been left to fester for so long they had started to stink.

Sensing Song Zhiqing’s low spirits, Uncle Yu pressed his dry lips together. He tidied the few things in the hospital room, peeled an apple, unpeeled a banana, and washed half a bowl of cherries. Only then, as if he had finally gathered his words, did he ask cautiously, “Miss, will you be continuing your studies next?”

Studies. Right, she hadn’t graduated from university yet.

Song Zhiqing had stopped attending in her third year. In truth, she had never really wanted to go to that university in the first place. It was only because Shangguan Chong had sent Shangguan Xianxian there that she had forced Song Chen to let her enroll as well.

Later, when Shangguan Xianxian graduated early, she had followed her back.

She had gone back to stirring up trouble between the Shangguan sisters.

As she had expected, a year later, Shen Wei—her wings fully grown—had torn the Song family to shreds, exposing the vast amounts of filth hidden within. Song Chen’s reputation was ruined, and of course, she hadn’t fared much better herself. All the terrible things she had done back at Qinglin were dug up for public scorn.

Song Zhiqing rubbed her temples, stopping herself from thinking about these things any further.

It was all in the past, and it no longer mattered.

Lifting her head, she feigned a thoughtful expression. “I need to think about it carefully.”

Uncle Yu didn’t dare ask again. Ever since the Song family’s fall, the young miss’s mental state had been deteriorating. Now that she was finally starting to improve, it was best to let her do whatever she wanted.

As long as she was alive, that was enough. Madam had left her a considerable fortune, and she had received a large share from the Song family’s assets as well. She could live out her days comfortably as a wealthy idler.

Besides, if the master hadn’t forbidden her from pursuing Miss Shangguan back then, she wouldn’t have done so many incomprehensible things.

The young miss had originally been a very good young miss.

“Miss, would you like some fruit?” Uncle Yu offered her the apple, banana, and cherries.

Song Zhiqing stared at the large pile before her and paused for a moment, but she took it anyway. She bit into the apple, and the juice overflowed, moistening her lips, which remained a vibrant red despite her long illness.

Not long after Uncle Yu left, Ye Mo came in.

With her was a man, Song Zhiqing’s other attending physician, surnamed Zhou, who was responsible for managing her physical recovery.

After completing his examination, Dr. Zhou saw the half-eaten fruit on the table and smiled. “Miss Song, you can eat more fruit from now on. Your body is recovering very well.”

Song Zhiqing didn’t feel much about it. She just smiled and nodded.

However, Ye Mo seemed happier about it than she was. Although she didn’t even smile, Song Zhiqing could inexplicably feel the tension in her entire aura relax.

She recalled what Uncle Yu had just said about how they owed it all to the good Dr. Ye.

Well, maybe she really is a good person, which is why she’d save a notorious wretch like me, Song Zhiqing thought coldly.

Compared to the physical check-up, the psychological evaluation was far more complex. After all, psychotherapy was the catalyst for Song Zhiqing’s awakening, and her current instability was also due to psychological issues.

After finishing his work, Dr. Zhou left the space to Ye Mo. Before leaving, he patted her on the shoulder, likely as a gesture of encouragement, but for some reason, Song Zhiqing found it an eyesore.

Ye Mo asked her questions, had her fill out questionnaires, checked her hormone levels, and even used some art therapy techniques.

It was very troublesome. Song Zhiqing was not entirely ignorant of psychology; she knew this was considered a complicated process even within the field. But Ye Mo was always like this, so cautious it was almost annoying.

When it was over, that relaxed feeling appeared around Ye Mo again, so Song Zhiqing knew her condition was good. She curled her lips into a slight smile and popped a cherry into her mouth.

Then, she asked, as if casually, “Is Dr. Zhou your boyfriend?”

Ye Mo frowned in confusion, pausing her work of packing up the equipment. “No,” she said.

After that, she resumed her previous actions.

But for some reason, she suddenly added, “I don’t like men.”

Song Zhiqing froze.

Ye Mo quickened her movements, likely feeling she had been too abrupt.

Song Zhiqing popped another cherry into her mouth.

What did that have to do with her?

“Is that so? You two actually look quite good together,” Song Zhiqing said vaguely, the cherry still not fully swallowed.

Ye Mo stood up straight and smiled gently. “Perhaps, but unfortunately, it’s not possible.”

“Tsk, how boring.”

Ye Mo didn’t reply. She turned to leave.

Watching her back, Song Zhiqing swallowed the cherry flesh in her mouth. She pursed her lips, not knowing why she had become so caustic.

Who was she angry at?

Looking at that back, Song Zhiqing could easily find the answer.

It was indeed very similar, but it was also decidedly not her.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said those things. That was very rude.”

Ye Mo’s steps faltered. Her voice was still gentle. “It’s alright.”

Ye Mo left, but Song Zhiqing couldn’t feel happy. She should have been happy, having endured another day. But that back, that damned back, was so similar. Yet there were even more differences, and even…

Song Zhiqing couldn’t help but let out a sarcastic smile. Hadn’t she seen enough people who resembled “Song Zhiqing”? Nurses, doctors, countless figures from her memory that were once blurry but had now suddenly become clear. It was truly an embarrassing thing.

She could regain her senses quickly, but even a second of distraction was, without a doubt, a form of blasphemy and humiliation.

No, this couldn’t go on.

Song Zhiqing closed her eyes. Maybe a nap would help.

At least time would pass more quickly.

At that moment, a family member was sitting in Dr. Ye’s office. He had been sitting for a long time, because Dr. Ye was very busy, especially after Song Zhiqing woke up. As the first doctor in the country to successfully apply the “Virtual Awakening” technology in a clinical setting, she had to deal with a lot of media attention alone.

Not to mention all the reports and lectures. Dr. Ye had turned down everything she could, doing her best to stay at the hospital and watch over Song Zhiqing, but some things were unavoidable. These obligations kept her as busy as an ant on a hot pan.

Uncle Yu sat on the sofa, flipping through Song Zhiqing’s medical report. He didn’t actually understand what the numbers meant, but he read it line by line until he reached the final sentence: “Patient’s condition is relatively good, with no relapse.”

A slow smile spread across his face. He paid no mind to the parenthetical note that followed: Possibility of patient deliberately concealing symptoms exists.

Just as he was about to read it for a third time, Ye Mo returned.

Uncle Yu immediately stood up. “Thank you for all your hard work.”

“It’s my duty,” Ye Mo replied in a gentle voice, refilling Uncle Yu’s water glass.

“Not at all!” Uncle Yu disagreed completely. “If it weren’t for you, our young miss would still be lying in that bed. This technology is so controversial, yet Dr. Ye was willing to risk her own future to help our miss. You’re practically a living Bodhisattva on earth.”

Ye Mo’s expression was gentle and calm, still like a lake that could never be filled. She shook her head and said, “You’re too kind. I was already researching Virtual Awakening technology abroad. If it hadn’t been Miss Song, it would have been someone else. The fact that you were willing to entrust Miss Song to my care is already exceptionally commendable.”

Hearing this, Uncle Yu laughed heartily. “Dr. Ye, you really are too modest.”

Ye Mo didn’t answer. What she said was the truth, but there was no need to dwell on the topic. So she changed the subject. “Is Miss Song getting along well with you? I hope she hasn’t been too deeply affected by the virtual reality.”

Uncle Yu hesitated.

Ye Mo cast a questioning glance at him.

Uncle Yu took a sip of water and swallowed before speaking. “Although the young miss is a bit down right now, she’s much better than she was a few years ago. It’s all thanks to you, Dr. Ye.”

Ye Mo nodded. “That’s good to hear.”

Uncle Yu took another sip of water. He thought to himself that he probably didn’t need to report to Dr. Ye that the young miss had asked him to find someone. It was someone she had met in her dream, and she had specifically told him not to tell anyone, especially Dr. Ye.

It was just finding a person.

And the young miss seemed so much better.

Uncle Yu averted his gaze and sighed at the card that Ye Mo had once again refused.

Miss Ye really was a good person.

And as for Ye Mo being a good person, Song Zhiqing had no doubts about that either.

But unlike Uncle Yu, she didn’t admire this rare and noble quality in Ye Mo. On the contrary, she found Ye Mo’s brand of goodness a bit annoying.

She couldn’t bring herself to be cruel to her. Plus, despite her own coldness, she was still a lamentable distance from being truly heartless. Therefore, faced with Ye Mo’s words and actions, which were entirely for her own good, Song Zhiqing felt very frustrated.

This wasn’t what she wanted.

But she knew with perfect clarity that this was the right path—right for her in a conventional sense, and right considering Ye Mo’s duties as a doctor. She had no reason to make someone do the wrong thing.

There was a way around it, of course. She could switch to a less-than-good doctor, which would give her the space to do things that were not so right.

But she couldn’t switch.

Ye Mo wasn’t an ordinary psychologist. She was the doctor who had saved her life, who had awakened her from a vegetative state. She had accomplished this with her machine and her professional knowledge.

So she couldn’t get rid of Ye Mo; that would be too obvious. She could only rely on her own pretense, on the willpower born from constantly ruminating on that dream, to calmly and steadily contend with Ye Mo.

After another examination, Ye Mo looked at Song Zhiqing, holding the results of her latest psychological test. “You’re recovering faster than I expected.”

Song Zhiqing straightened up, raised an eyebrow slightly, then leaned back against the sofa. She said jokingly, “Isn’t this exactly the result you were aiming for, Dr. Ye?”

A defensive counter-question, Ye Mo judged internally.

Out loud, she probed, “I thought you would be more interested in the mechanism behind the dream, where its authenticity comes from, or…”

“The question of whether it has any authenticity at all.”

The upward curve of Song Zhiqing’s lips froze for a fleeting instant. Very quickly, she bloomed into an even wider, more serene smile. “I thought you wouldn’t tell me.”

“Given your initial condition, that topic was certainly off-limits. But now,” Ye Mo glanced at the report again, “you seem to have made a simple distinction between reality and fiction, so the topic is no longer so dangerous.”

The problem, however, was that Song Zhiqing’s transition between distinguishing and not distinguishing was too abrupt, lacking the exploratory phase that should have been present according to many case studies from abroad.

It was as if she had miraculously figured it out on her own.

But do miracles really happen?

Perhaps they do. Ye Mo had seen one, twice even.

Just then, Song Zhiqing’s slightly barbed words pulled Ye Mo back from the distant past to the present. “Oh? So what you mean, Dr. Ye, is that this dream wasn’t just some hormones and electric currents creating a baseless life? It’s not completely false as you’ve always claimed. There’s some truth in it, right?”

Ye Mo fell silent. The wind passed between them, carrying the oppressive smell of the hospital. Ye Mo’s white coat billowed, as did Song Zhiqing’s blue-and-white striped patient gown. One sat, one stood, while outside the room, the trees cast dancing shadows. Sunlight struck the glossy leaves and was reflected back, granting the leaves the authority of light, even if it was just a few faint specks of light and shadow, even if it was just for one afternoon.

“No,” Ye Mo said. “There is no truth.”

“If you insist on there being truth, then it is a truth that is real to you. The dream was woven for you. The materials were your life, your emotions, and your desires. What you experienced and saw in the dream was your own self.”

“For example, back at Qinglin, you helped many students from lower-income families who were being bullied, including a girl who was assaulted by a teacher. This event also appeared in your dream, and you made the same choice you did in the past.”

“So, if we really want to pursue the truth, then Song Zhiqing, everything you felt is the truth. And these truths tell you that in your life, the things that can support you and help you carry on are not as few as you imagine.”

The smile vanished from Song Zhiqing’s lips. She looked at Ye Mo coolly, almost coldly. “How do you know the contents of my dream?”

“Isn’t it a machine?”

Ye Mo’s expression faltered for a moment, but she answered the question very quickly. “I’m sorry, but in this treatment, the attending physician has observer privileges. The technology is not yet mature, so we have to make concessions regarding privacy rights.”

“What did you see?”

“Everything.”

Song Zhiqing gritted her teeth. She suddenly understood the embarrassment Shen Wei must have felt facing her in the dream. It was indeed an unbearable feeling.

“Including—?”

Ye Mo nodded.

Song Zhiqing let out a long breath.

Ye Mo lowered her head guiltily, her ears turning a little red. Clearly, she was just as embarrassed as Song Zhiqing, perhaps even more so.

Because Song Zhiqing wasn’t blushing.

And for Ye Mo, a certified good person, the role of a voyeur seemed to be too heavy a burden.

“Sorry,” she squeezed out the word, trying to ease the atmosphere. “I usually closed my eyes.”

Song Zhiqing replied calmly, “It’s a machine.”

“It connects to the brain.”

“…”

“I have something else to do.” Ye Mo hastily packed up the things on the table. “Your indicators are very good today. I think you’ll be healthy again very soon.”

Song Zhiqing watched her silently, realizing for the first time that a psychologist might not be very good with words.

Ye Mo hurried back to her office as if she had stepped on a hornet’s nest.

She opened her computer and took a deep breath, beads of sweat already forming on her forehead.

But for some reason, she didn’t wipe them away. Instead, she stared blankly at a pile of data, even with a mountain of work beside her.

A long time later, the sweat on Ye Mo’s forehead had become a faint, unnoticed stain. As if startled awake, she opened her email and slowly typed a line.

“Ye, are you really not going to publish the data? This is your country’s first successful case, enough to make you the center of the world! Countless people are waiting to analyze it. Ye, you’re giving up the chance to become a superstar in the world of psychology!”

“No, Professor, I don’t plan to publish it. There’s too much private information involved. It’s not suitable for exposure.”

A month later, Song Zhiqing’s various indicators were steadily improving. According to Ye Mo and Dr. Zhou, if this trend continued, she could be discharged in another half a month. After that, she would only need regular physical check-ups and psychological counseling.

Late at night, all was silent. The night sky was obscured by dark clouds. The hospital’s stark white lights shone on the marble floor, reflecting hollow pools of brightness.

Song Zhiqing moved quietly through the gaps between the pools of light. There was no one around; it was time for the nurses’ shift change.

Taking a long-prepared key from her pocket, she opened the door to Ye Mo’s office.

Over a month had been enough time for Song Zhiqing to search for information about “Song Zhiqing.” All she knew was her appearance. However, perhaps it was as Ye Yuhuan had said: “Song Zhiqing” was an image and personality automatically generated based on her own aesthetic preferences. At most, she could only find people with similar looks, and even they were a world away from her. They couldn’t be “Song Zhiqing.”

In that case, her only hope was the treatment device.

It was a full-sensory virtual reality device, originally developed for gaming research. But during testing, it was discovered that many test subjects were unwilling to exit the game, showing an unusually high level of addiction. Some even went berserk when forcibly removed.

Its danger was undeniable, so it was naturally not viable for the market.

However, as a medical device for awakening consciousness, it was an excellent choice. Numerous cases of vegetative patients being awakened provided solid evidence of its medical potential.

But what Song Zhiqing wanted was its dangerous aspect—not to awaken, but to be forever immersed.

She had already found out that this type of psychotherapy device was more common abroad, and not just for medical use. Some people who utterly detested reality would choose to use such machines to live out the rest of their lives.

As long as you had enough money.

Coincidentally, Gao Yiren had left her enough money.

So, the key now was to find the data from her last treatment.

The treatment had been single-handedly managed by Ye Mo. Back then, everyone else had given up, concluding that Song Zhiqing would one day die in her endless sleep. But Ye Mo, having returned from her studies abroad, rejected this assertion. She strongly recommended using the new therapy. At the time, Uncle Yu was willing to believe even in high monks, let alone a seemingly reliable overseas-educated Ph.D. With Uncle Yu’s strong support, Ye Mo successfully pushed the treatment forward.

Therefore, the data could only be with her.

After failing to find anything by hacking into Ye Mo’s personal computer, Song Zhiqing turned her attention to the computer in Ye Mo’s office. But the firewall of this top domestic hospital was not something she could crack in a short time, and she didn’t have much time. Ye Mo was an excellent psychologist. To have fooled her for so long was already a feat accomplished by relying on her amateur studies of psychology from her early years. It was important to remember that while she, as Ye Yuhuan, was a rare genius, the real Song Zhiqing did not possess that kind of talent. That genius was a form of modern magic, an armor she had subconsciously donned for herself in that strange world where she felt so insecure.

The real Song Zhiqing was just an ordinarily smart person.

This meant that Ye Mo would soon discover her deep-seated world-weariness.

Song Zhiqing decided to take a risk.

Ye Mo was on vacation for the next three days. It was the perfect opportunity.

Song Zhiqing turned on Ye Mo’s computer. After cracking all the passwords, she began searching for the treatment data.

But there was nothing.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

Song Zhiqing scoured every corner of the computer, even finding Ye Mo’s doctoral dissertation, but she couldn’t find a single trace of data related to that device.

The only thing related to her was a report, with the last line reading: Patient is in good spirits and has regained confidence in life.

Song Zhiqing let out a dry laugh and collapsed into Ye Mo’s office chair. At that moment, an alarm blared. She was carried back to her room like a piece of rotten wood.

She kept laughing, but it wasn’t a pleasant laugh. It was reminiscent of a bat’s black wings, blotting out the sky with a nauseating boniness.

The nurses were too scared to approach her, standing far away as if observing a gorilla just captured for a zoo.

Ye Mo arrived half an hour later.

From her improperly buttoned coat and messy hair, it was clear she had rushed over.

Upon entering, she seemed to close her eyes in great sorrow for a moment.

Then she said, “You didn’t have to go this far.”

Song Zhiqing continued to laugh to herself, not answering. She thought everything was already clear enough. What she wanted had never changed just because it was fake.

Because she was not fake, “Song Zhiqing” must also be real—even if it took her own life to make her real.

Ye Mo sighed in resignation.

“I put the data somewhere else.”

“…If you still feel this way in five years, I will give it to you.”

Song Zhiqing stopped laughing. Life returned to her withered eyes. “Are you serious?”

Ye Mo nodded and replied calmly, “My responsibility is to cure you, and I will use any means necessary to do so.”

“So, let’s make a bet. For these five years, you will properly accept my treatment and not think about finding Song Zhiqing in the virtual world. If I can’t make you forget her within this time, then I will give up.”

“This isn’t me taking advantage of you. You have to let me, as a psychologist, put up a fight. Let Uncle Yu and the others put up a fight, too. If you still don’t want to live after five years, then I won’t stop you anymore.”

Five years.

“Does it have to be five years long?”

“Yes, it has to be five years long.”

“Why do you have to cure me? My disappearance from this world won’t be any loss to you. If it’s for money, I can give you a lot of money.”

“Miss Song, I am a doctor.”

Song Zhiqing was at a loss for words. Ah, dealing with good people was really difficult.

“Sorry,” she said dryly.

“It’s alright. I know you’re in a lot of pain. I’m the one who should be sorry. I wasn’t able to help you in time. Perhaps these five years will be a chance. Perhaps you’ll be able to move on. I hope you can give yourself this chance.”

But I don’t want to move on.

That was Song Zhiqing’s first thought, but considering her earlier offense, she didn’t say it out loud.

So what she could say was an explanation.

“I didn’t touch anything on your computer. I just looked.”

“I know.”

“How do you know everything?”

“Because I am your doctor.”

“…”

The two sat in silence, facing each other. After a while, Song Zhiqing said, “I’m sorry for interrupting your vacation.”

“It’s alright.”