SES Chapter 98 Part 1

Chapter 98

Uncle Zhang had bought some fruit—early spring watermelon, imported cherries, and mangosteen. As he walked, he kept checking the bags, worried the vendor had shorted him. The prices weren’t cheap.

As he neared the private club, he looked up and saw a car.

A black Hummer. The massive beast crouched there like a snarling predator, the row of hunting lights on top glaring like angry, questioning eyes.

Uncle Zhang stopped in his tracks.

Luo Ren stepped from behind the vehicle to the front, leaning casually against the hood, arms crossed, gaze lifted toward the sky.

The weather was good—clear blue sky, a few thin clouds drifting by.

He was obviously waiting, yet he didn’t look at him, calm and collected.

Uncle Zhang chuckled. He was starting to like this young man.

There was something to it—whatever the outcome, a man ought to chase after his girlfriend. If you’ve lost her, you should go find her. No need for fear, hesitation, or taboo. As for sulking, drinking yourself stupid, or wallowing in self-pity—those were beneath a man.

Uncle Zhang didn’t bother asking how Luo Ren had tracked her here. He took it for granted. A man should have his ways, whether in the open or in secret.

If this were about choosing a son-in-law, Luo Ren would have passed the test. Pity it wasn’t.

Uncle Zhang sighed.

He said, “The boss lady’s upstairs. Luo Ren, come in and talk.”

Then he started up the stairs of the club, each step rising as if deliberately pulling away, lifting itself above the ordinary world.

Luo Ren glanced up at the sign: Psychological Club. The logo was a black circle containing the silhouette of a woman in profile, her neck tilted back, arm outstretched, touching the circle’s edge—almost stepping out, yet not.

In a way, everyone was trapped in the shadow of their own mind. Some shadows were lighter, some darker. Some kept things sharply divided; others blurred reality with illusion. Some people ended up inside these square rooms; others still wandered outside.

That was when Yan Hongsha called.

She asked, “Luo Ren, any news about Mu Dai?”

Her voice was timid. Ever since that day in the mountains, when he’d scolded her, she had developed a natural wariness and fear toward him.

Luo Ren said, “I found her. For some reason, she’s in a psychological club.”

They had guessed before that maybe she’d gone to a better hospital. But that theory never held much weight. Changing hospitals wasn’t something shameful—why would she hide it?

Up ahead, Uncle Zhang turned back, as if puzzled why he was lagging.

Luo Ren said, “That’s all for now. I’ll call you later.”

But Yan Hongsha hesitated a moment, then blurted, “No, wait—Luo Ren, I need to tell you something.”

He gestured to Uncle Zhang to wait, stopping under the logo sign to finish the call.

The contents weren’t anything new to him, but in the halting words of the two girls, he could sense their nervous, guilty effort to keep a secret. He gave a faint smile. “Got it.”

Right before he hung up, Yan Hongsha asked, “Luo Ren… will you resent Mu Dai?”

He said, “You’re overthinking it.”

He pocketed the phone, drew a deep breath, and quickened his pace to catch up to Uncle Zhang.

His mood was steady, but far from comfortable.

It felt like walking alone while the whole world doused you in waves of suspicion, worry, secrecy, and avoidance. Even well-meaning, it still wore you down.

He followed the carpeted stairs upward. The thick, dark-patterned rug muffled his steps. Portraits lined the walls—Freud, Jung, Vygotsky. The master’s eyes, shadowed and somber, all gazed at the world with equal worry.

What made Luo Ren almost laugh was spotting a portrait of Laozi, with a line inscribed beneath:

“He who conquers others is strong; he who conquers himself is stronger.”

On second thought, it made sense. Most psychological struggles were really battles against oneself.

At the grand double doors ahead, Uncle Zhang asked him to wait.

He waited. He’d come this far; there was no need for impatience.

After a while, Uncle Zhang returned and ushered him in.

The room was dark-toned, opulent. The carpet was thick and soft—delicate things could fall here without breaking.

Luo Ren approved. The human mind was fragile too. Such surroundings offered a sense of safety.

Behind a large, luxurious rosewood desk sat a refined middle-aged man in a suit. Luo Ren recognized him from the photos: He Ruihua.

Huo Zihong was there as well, lounging on a camel-colored leather beanbag sofa. These formless seats were popular—they shifted to your shape and mood, adapting to your comfort.

Luo Ren greeted her. “Long time no see.”

She had been away so long “to clear her mind,” but true peace was unlikely. Hearts weren’t sheep; you couldn’t just graze on different grass and be content.

As he spoke, he noticed she was holding an old-style VHS tape. The heavy black box looked clumsy next to today’s tiny memory cards, but inside it no doubt lay secrets long hidden from light.

Luo Ren sat on another sofa. On the side table, tea had already been poured. Uncle Zhang took a chair near the door, a fruit bag at his feet, like a patient waiting his turn.

Huo Zihong said, “This is Mr. He Ruihua. Eight years ago, he was a physician at a well-known hospital—and Mu Dai’s attending doctor. Even after leaving to open this club, he’s stayed in touch with us, following Mu Dai’s case all along.”

Luo Ren asked, “All this time?”

“All this time,” He Ruihua confirmed.

“Does Mu Dai know?”

“She doesn’t.”

A faint pang tightened in Luo Ren’s chest.

He Ruihua said, “Maybe… you should tell Mr. Luo what happened eight years ago.”

Eight years.

It was a number that stood out. Mu Dai had been training in martial arts for eight years. Huo Zihong had moved her whole family to Lijiang eight years ago.

Huo Zihong fell silent. Some things she avoided even in her own thoughts. People had an instinct to shun disaster and cling to fortune. Some memories you wanted, selfishly, to abandon forever.

Now, being forced to recall them piece by piece, her heart felt unbearably heavy before she even spoke.

“Eight years ago, Mu Dai was fifteen. Still just a girl. By then, I’d already been raising her for about ten years. She was wonderful—sweet, lively, mischievous.”

“She had a close friend in class, Shen Wen. The two of them did everything together except sleep—best friends, inseparable.”

“One day, something happened. At first, it seemed like nothing.”

A sigh, a bittersweet smile. Fate had played its tricks.

At that time, a Hollywood blockbuster had just come out: Night at the Museum. Mu Dai and Shen Wen planned to see it together. Mu Dai even bought the tickets ahead of time.

But on the day itself, plans changed.

Shen Wen said her parents wouldn’t let her go. The high school entrance exam was coming up, and they insisted she stay home to study.

Of course, Mu Dai was upset. She couldn’t find anyone else on such short notice, and she didn’t want to go alone. It felt like a waste to let those tickets go unused.

So she came up with a plan.

She went to Shen Wen’s house with her backpack, knocked on the door, and, under Shen Wen’s mother’s surprised look, said, “I’m here to study with Wen Wen.”

Shen Wen hadn’t been warned and was caught off guard, but she went along with the story.

Mu Dai continued, “Our math teacher got hold of a set of practice exams—supposedly from someone who actually writes the entrance exam questions. Since it might give us an edge, the teacher picked a few top students to review them together.”

Shen Wen’s mother believed her. She was even relieved—both girls were good students, and it made sense they’d get special attention.

As the girls left, Shen Wen’s mother reminded them, “Stay on the main roads, watch out for traffic. If it runs late, call me, and I’ll come get you.”