As soon as these words came out of Zhong Shiliang’s mouth, the unusually relaxed group immediately felt heaviness in their stomachs, their digestion becoming poor. But Zhong Shiliang seemed entirely unaware of his own lowering popularity. Beaming, he got out a walkie-talkie. “Dr. Kou, Xiao Kou, are you here?” 

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” 

There was a bit of an echo on the second “I’m coming.” Dr. Lu, for once seeing a fellow member of his profession, sat up straight and looked over. He saw a young man run over gasping for breath. This Dr. Kou was very skinny and looked like a moving bamboo pole when he ran, swaying in the wind as though beset by perils. His hair had been blown into a mess. There was a very retro little satchel under his arm. 

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I was out paying a house call. I hurried over as soon as I received the training base’s notification.” 

Zhong Shiliang pointed to him and introduced: “This is our base’s specially employed outside expert, Dr. Kou Tong.” 

Kou Tong smiled very amiably. This young man’s appearance couldn’t be called very remarkable, but his features looked particularly tidy, especially when he smiled. It seemed as though spring had come and flowers were blooming. He seemed to have flapping wings and the radiance of a halo over his head, like the Holy Father. 

He truly was the type to make a favorable impression on people at first sight—especially when he was sitting with Zhong Shiliang. 

Then Zhong Shiliang continued: “Dr. Kou took part in planning the construction of the Multi-Frequency Dimension-Changing Space.” 

Everyone: “…” 

Dr. Kou, finding that everyone’s expressions were very stiff, took no notice. He dredged up a wire from his retro bag. He connected one end to Zhong Shiliang’s laptop, then took out the other end and held it in both hands. Everyone’s eyeballs immediately fell all over the ground—the beaming Dr. Kou, smiling like a lucky cat, was holding out a furry ball! 

Xue Xiaolu swallowed and pointed shakily, saying, “Did the base…send this to be cute?” 

Dr. Kou brought the furry ball to her hands. Xue Xiaolu made contact with his mild eyes, and her face inexplicably turned red. She accepted with both hands, holding the furry ball as though it were a pearl from the East Sea. A coordinate grid appeared at once on the laptop’s screen. It had two lines on it, a fluctuating red line and a practically motionless white line. 

Lu Qingbai gave an “ah.” “This is a mirror image projector. I know about it. Are you a psychologist of the Ding school?” 

Kou Tong lowered his head slightly. His brows were particularly long. When he lowered his head, he gave off a slight sense of still waters running deep. “Only an itinerant doctor. I’m here to give you all a simple mirror image appraisal.” 

Kou Tong took a notebook out of his bag and flipped to Xue Xiaolu’s page, comparing her to her photo. Then he said in quiet reassurance, “Don’t be nervous. I’m only going to do a simple test using emotional simulation. Just follow my instructions. Take a deep breath. Relax.” 

Tears nearly came to Xue Xiaolu’s eyes. She thought, they were both white coats, so why was there such a difference between them? Kou Tong was like a living Buddha helping the dying and healing the injured, while Lu Qingbai was like a malevolent spirit of vivisection. 

Kou Tong said, “Everyone, please remain quiet. Miss Xue, close your eyes.” 

There seemed to be magic in his voice. Xue Xiaolu, red-faced, closed her eyes. The red line on the screen began to move more energetically. Kou Tong laughed softly. “Take some deep breaths. Try to calm down. Feel what the mirror image terminal in your hand is conveying to you.” 

Then Kou Tong didn’t speak again. Everyone followed him in staring at the two moving lines on the screen. After around five minutes, the wavering red line slowly calmed, overlapping with the subdued white line. A small window appeared in a corner of the screen. A circling chrysanthemum popped up, like the kind when a website gets stuck while opening: Imprinting, please wait.

After about another five minutes, a little light appeared on top of the furry ball in Xue Xiaolu’s hand, and it gave a beep—. In the little window on the lower right hand side of the computer screen appeared the text: Imprinting complete. 

Then it automatically minimized itself. 

Kou Tong snapped his fingers. “How do you feel?” 

Xue Xiaolu opened her eyes. Her gaze didn’t seem especially clear yet. She was a little distracted. Kou Tong rather patiently asked again: “How do you feel?” 

Xue Xiaolu was silent for a long time, then quietly said, “I…I feel like I’ve seen the big tree in my yard back home when I was little. My grandma was sitting on a stool under the tree and giving me a bag of chestnuts to eat…” 

She tilted her head slightly, the expression on her face seeming even more confused. But after a moment, she smiled and returned the furry ball to Kou Tong. “Thank you, Dr. Kou.” 

Su Qing exchanged a look with Lu Qingbai. Lu Qingbai explained: “I know a bit of the general working principle of the mirror image projector. The white line is adjusted by the doctor beforehand. It’s usually a fairly steady but rather happy emotion. Through microwaves transmitted by the terminal, it slowly adjusts the body’s emotional indexes to the same frequency. The projector automatically records mental activity at that time in order to provide an assessment.” 

Then Su Qing understood that, under the name of an assessment, the base was getting someone to treat the psychological trauma they had experienced in their night of untold danger. It was a typical case of a slap followed by a sweet. 

The furry ball went around the circle and at last came to Su Qing’s hands. His senses were several times more acute than an ordinary person’s. As soon as the “furry ball” passed into his hands, Su Qing felt the faint vibrations coming from it. Kou Tong had him close his eyes and concentrate on feeling what the “furry ball” was conveying to him. 

But perhaps because of the double core grey seal’s emotional consumption ability, Su Qing could only very faintly feel a weak emotion, similar to “fellow feeling,” coming from the furry ball. He couldn’t follow along no matter what. He instinctively separated external emotions from his own. The others saw the red line on the screen maintaining a deep-rooted distance from the white line, not budging, as though there was a border between rival powers between them. 

Fifteen minutes passed, and the two lines were still deadlocked. Several times, Su Qing hadn’t been able to resist wanting to open his eyes to glance at the situation. Even Kou Tong was frowning. Zhong Shiliang, looking at Su Qing, sighed inwardly, thinking, It’s this brat again. Everything has to go wrong with him. 

Kou Tong said, “Mr. Su, relax a little.” 

“If I relax any more, I’ll be horizontal,” Su Qing said. The red thread on the screen only showed a sliver of sluggish movement while they were talking. 

Kou Tong said, “Take a deep breath.” 

So Su Qing took a deep breath. The red line trembled into a sine wave during his slow breathing. Kou Tong softly said, “Concentrate your attention in your hands and keep recollecting, think of happy things, a year, two years ago…” 

The red line fluctuated violently—because Su Qing had suddenly opened his eyes, startling Kou Tong. “What’s wrong?” 

Su Qing felt uncomfortable saying that his illusory voice had made him break out in gooseflesh. He could only shake his head. He suddenly felt a little irritable. He deliberated. “Doctor, I think you’d better not lead me into it slowly. What kind of compulsive measures does this thing have?” 

Zhong Shiliang interrupted: “When his consciousness was drawn into the space last night, he was forcefully pulled inside in a waking state.” 

Kou Tong’s eyes opened wide. He looked Su Qing over with the expression of someone studying an alien monster. “The enforced sleep device failed? Have you felt that there was something wrong with you? Do you have a history of mental illness?” 

“I…don’t think so?” Su Qing looked at Lu Qingbai uncertainly. 

Lu Qingbai hesitated, then nodded. “He previously had a negative reaction to implanted emotions and showed slight symptoms of manic depression. But he later digested the implanted emotions himself, so reasonably speaking there shouldn’t be a problem—unless there’s something weighing on his mind.” 

Kou Tong looked at Su Qing. “There are some things I may need to say to you alone. Do you think we should have the others withdraw?” 

Su Qing automatically glanced at Hu Bugui, just in time to meet his eyes as he looked over. Hu Bugui was tense all over, as if a doctor had announced that he had a terminal illness. Captain Hu would worry himself to death, Su Qing thought. Then he paused and shook his head. “No need, there’s nothing to avoid. Go ahead and ask.” 

Dr. Kou asked, “Apart from last night, have you had insomnia?” 

Su Qing shook his head. “I don’t sleep a lot, but I can usually sleep when I want to. I don’t have trouble sleeping.” 

“How is your food intake?” 

Su Qing pointed to his own shoulder. “I’m…not very much like others on that front.” 

Kou Tong nodded understandingly, considered, then asked, “Have you had any suicidal thoughts recently?” 

“What?” Su Qing stared. Then he quickly shook his head. “I really am afraid of death.” 

Kou Tong nodded, lowered his head, and scanned Su Qing’s file. The more he read, the more baffled he became. Suddenly, his eyebrows rose, and he lifted his head. He asked Su Qing, “I’ll ask you a question, and you answer me at once—who are you?” 

Su Qing stared and said in some bewilderment: “I’m…” 

Then his voice suddenly caught. For some reason, the words “Su Qing” wouldn’t come out. He felt that he actually knew the answer very well in his heart, but when the words came to his lips, it was as if something was blocking them. Countless faces, countless IDs with different names written on them flashed through his mind. For a time, he couldn’t respond. 

Kou Tong put on a slightly understanding expression and slowly said, “It’s all right. That question is too broad. We’ll take it apart. First question, what kind of person do you think you are? What is your name? Where is your home?” 

These were precisely the three questions that General Xiong had asked him. 

“From the standpoint of physiological structure, I can be called human, and the rest is not to be considered. My name is Ji Pengcheng. Wherever I am is my home.” 

And this was the note that the old conman who had wandered to who knew where had sent back to him with Tu Tutu. It had perfectly answered the three questions. 

But Su Qing remained speechless. 

Just then, the white line that seemed to have grown on the screen unexpectedly began to move, slowly approaching the slightly fluctuating red line. Then the imprinting notice in the corner of the screen appeared once more. Kou Tong waited until the imprinting had finished, then took the mirror image terminal back from Su Qing’s hands. He smiled. “I’ll send the concrete results to you all within two working days. There’s no need to worry.” 

Then he looked deliberately at Su Qing and repeated to him specifically, “There’s no need to worry.” 

Then Kou Tong packed up his things and left. At this time, stars had already risen to cover the sky. Zhong Shiliang at last bid farewell. Just before leaving, he pulled out a big chest. “There are tents inside. The weather is good today, so if you’re unwilling to return to the room, you can camp.” 

Xue Xiaolu was the first to cheer and throw herself at the tents. 

It was midnight, and everyone was tired, but Su Qing once again couldn’t sleep. 

Without consulting anyone, he climbed out of his tent and lay face up in the grass, listening to the creek quietly trickling by. Holding a cigarette in his mouth, he stared blankly up at the Milky Way. 

Just then, he heard a rustling sound beside him. Su Qing turned his head and saw Hu Bugui also climbing out of his tent. His first reaction was to immediately spit out the cigarette in his mouth and extinguish it. Then he froze, thinking, I’m smoking, not doing drugs. Why am I being so sneaky about it?

Hu Bugui slowly walked over to him and quietly asked, “Can’t sleep again?” 

Su Qing nodded. 

“Come here,” Hu Bugui said. 

Su Qing blinked, thinking, Are you moving right to the visit to the Imperial bedchamber stage, Captain Hu? He unhurriedly got up off the ground and followed Hu Bugui into his tent. With two men in there, the space immediately seemed narrow. 

Hu Bugui turned and lay down, leaving him a not very large space. When he found that after lying down, Su Qing’s eyes were still open, looking up and down cunningly, he very naturally put his arm around his back and quietly said, “Close your eyes.” 

Su Qing closed his eyes. Hu Bugui looked down at him, then also slowly closed his eyes. Like when Su Qing had been alone, isolated and cut off from help in the grey house, he slowly began to tell a nursery story. 

For some reason, this move was unusually effective against Su Qing. Not long after, his breathing became even. Hu Bugui stopped and opened his eyes in the darkness. By the weak radiance, he looked at Su Qing’s peaceful sleeping face, then slowly lowered his head and gently kissed the tip of his nose. 

Then Su Qing curled up and buried his face in the space between Hu Bugui’s neck and shoulder, his breath gently brushing against the side of Hu Bugui’s neck. 

Hu Bugui stiffened. He took in a breath and only shakily let it out after a long time. He felt a certain…very delicate change occur to his body. 

So that night, Hu Bugui sacrificed his own interests for the sake of another’s—he became the one who couldn’t sleep.