Chapter 54 Pink Bubbles, that pink bubble Ada...

Childhood? Unrealistic fantasies?

Liang Siyu secretly wondered: What's wrong with her? Is she remembering something sad from her childhood again? Is it related to moving?

He was a little worried, so he deliberately made a joke to lighten the mood.

"Of course, I wish I could be bitten by a radioactive spider when I visit a science museum."

Xu Aida's breath hitched. How could this man be so childish? Damn it, who talks to him about superheroes?

She glared at him fiercely, wishing she could transform into the Black Widow and throw the little spider away.

"Okay, okay," he said, seeing her expression, and quickly kissed her hair. "Seriously, I have been thinking about writing something."

"Collegiate places great emphasis on writing training and has produced many journalists and writers. However, I soon discovered that I didn't have much talent for it..."

"First there was Arthur. He seemed a bit silly, but his writing was sharp. When I read his essay, I was a little taken aback. By the way, he had an in-depth report last year that got a lot of views."

"And Andrew, you remember him? We met him at Peninsula earlier this year. Back in high school, he was very creative when rewriting scripts, always coming up with memorable lines. And he was already writing original scripts back then."

Of course. Andrew Lin, Lin Anmin.

She shivered slightly: "What if he invites you to help with the screenwriting?"

He laughed: "Me? Help him write scripts? At most, I'll chat with him and give him some reader feedback."

She couldn't help but probe, "He's started making his own short films?"

"It's still in preparation. He started writing this script the year he graduated, and it'll happen eventually."

Liang Siyu suddenly felt something was off. "Huh? How did you know he wanted to make his own short film?"

Xu Aida's mind raced: "Uh, didn't you say he wrote original screenplays in high school? Who wouldn't want to have their work made into a film?"

He nodded, gently took the movie ticket stub from her hand, carefully arranged it, and tucked it into a book. He also shared some funny stories from high school, hoping to cheer her up.

"By the way, Andrew was absolutely fascinated by that photo of plants in Brosfield back then; I was so jealous. But his photography equipment was also amazing."

"He said I had some taste in photography, so he invited me to his darkroom to develop photos for fun, which was quite interesting. You know what? Film can actually be photoshopped; there are all sorts of methods..."

Xu Aida was a little annoyed. Every funny story he told reminded her that they were kindred spirits.

I hate Lin Anmin, I hate Collegiate High School, I hate artsy young men in the Upper West Side!

"I suddenly remembered, there are still some odds and ends, I'll go tidy them up." She said as she walked towards the kitchen.

"I'll go with you." He quickly followed.

She had already told her roommate that she would leave the kitchenware with her; she was just making up an excuse to escape, but he insisted on coming along.

She pretended to open the cabinet and glanced at the things inside: "You don't need to bring the plates, leave them for your roommate."

She hesitated for a moment, then pulled out an oversized stainless steel sports water bottle: "Take this with you." He reached out and took it.

She continued opening the cabinet and found two more plastic sports water bottles of different colors.

She took them out one in each hand and placed them on the table. After thinking for a moment, she said, "Let's throw these away." They have redundant functions, so there's no need to keep them.

He stopped her: "No, take everything with you. How can I let you throw things away on the first day of moving? It's not like we don't have room for them."

He looked intently into her eyes. "Ada, that's our apartment."

She paused for two seconds, then tapped his arm with her cup: "Don't worry, I've never been a pitiful dependent. I remember, if some bad boy made me angry, I'd punish him by making him sleep on the streets."

She continued walking towards the trash can, saying, "I regularly clean up system junk files to free up disk space."

The milky white fish soup was topped with bright green watercress, which looked very appetizing, but Xu Aida looked listless—after moving back to the new house, she took her temperature and found that she had a fever again.

She picked up a piece of watercress, swallowed it with difficulty, and complained, "It tastes bitter."

Then she refused to eat the green vegetables anymore, and only wanted to drink the soup.

Liang Siyu had no choice but to pick up some blanched kale for her: "Eat some vegetables."

"Okay, I'll eat later." She handed over the soup bowl. "I'd like to drink more soup."

She had a fever and suddenly wanted to drink fish soup, so he ordered takeout from this Cantonese restaurant.

Even though these were all dishes she had eaten before, she, who was usually easygoing, suddenly became picky. In the end, she didn't even touch the kale.

Half an hour after the meal, he brought over a bowl of fruit: "Does your mouth taste a little bitter? I tried it, the blueberries are very sweet today, and you can also eat a couple of bites of figs."

Of course, honeydew melon is the sweetest, but its high sugar content can easily cause throat discomfort, so it's not suitable for her to eat right now.

She first touched her hair awkwardly, took a few bites, then suddenly put down her fork, hugged his neck, and snuggled into his arms.

The usually decisive and efficient female PhD student has now turned into a little ostrich.

His nose was tickled by the wisps of her hair, and he gently brushed her hair aside.

"Shall we take a bath later? Oh, by the way, Mrs. Anderson sent some homemade apple cider. How about we try it while we're taking a bath? We still have some old varieties in our orchard, and they taste pretty good."

The hot water soothed her sore muscles. The apple cider was indeed delicious, icy cold and very refreshing, with the sweet and sour taste of fresh apples.

That lingering unease remained like a faint mist, but his embrace radiated warmth.

She didn't sleep soundly; her body, with its low-grade fever, still felt somewhat heavy. She wasn't particularly uncomfortable, but it felt like a tiny pea was nagging at her through the mattress.

Liang Siyu barely slept for the first half of the night, taking her temperature every hour.

When she was in pain, she would make a very soft, whimpering sound, like a newborn kitten, too weak to even meow, which made his heart ache.

He repeatedly patted and stroked her gently, and her body relaxed slightly.

When Xu Aida woke up, it was almost dawn, and she was momentarily disoriented.

She seemed to be having a dream. She was sitting in an empty apartment, and people were carrying away boxes of things. But she also seemed to hear Ned's voice. He was setting up the new house.

She turned her head, and there was Liang Siyu's young, bright face right next to her pillow.

She touched his face: "Ned?"

“Babe,” he said, his eyes still half-closed, pressing his forehead against hers and then burying his face in the crook of her neck, “Great, the fever’s gone down.”

Thump, thump, thump. My heart was pounding rapidly and powerfully, like a cheetah poised to pounce.

She pressed him back onto his pillow with force. He was still rubbing his eyes in a daze, about to protest.

She lowered her head, pressed her hand on his shoulder, and kissed him forcefully.

At lunchtime, he held her in his arms and they shared a sandwich on the sofa, taking turns eating bites, and then he sighed, "Sigh, there's another monkey brain experiment at the end of October."

She smiled, her eyes crinkling: "When will your hormone adjustment plan begin?"

She even deliberately blew a breath into his ear.

"Ada!" His hair stood on end. "You, you weren't like this before!"

Her smile widened, the curve of her lips almost exaggerated: "What? You regret letting me move in so soon?"

He gritted his teeth: "Just a reminder, the adjustments won't start for another two weeks, two weeks from now!"

She leaned closer to his ear and said, "Just a reminder, your girlfriend has an IST. My heart rate was already a little high this morning."

Did she need to remind her? Isn't that what makes her so fearless?

Liang Siyu was both amused and annoyed: "Your attitude is really good now. I think recovery is just around the corner."

She took his hand and placed it on her chest: "But I feel my heart is beating a little fast now."

He took a deep breath and fled from the sofa.

Damn California girl! Damn bubble voice! Damn soft hands!

On Friday, when Xu Aida woke up, Liang Siyu had already gone to the medical school's simulation room to practice.

She ate the shrimp bagel he had left, sat down at the table, opened her iPad again, and clicked on the blue book.

A cold, hard feeling settled in her stomach again. She took a sip of hot tea and told herself not to think about anything else, just treat it as doing a literature review.

Great, the theoretical part in the middle is not much different from her cognitive neuroscience textbook, and it is even simpler and easier.

She read very quickly, even having the mind to make fun of herself, look, she manages her amygdala and hippocampus very well, thanks to the prefrontal cortex.

In the afternoon, during the third part, which introduced various treatment methods, she was skeptical about EMDR (Eye Movement Desensitization and Reprocessing) treatment [Note].

Can simple eye movements help integrate traumatic memories? But since there is evidence-based medicine to support this, why not write it down?

Moreover, this method has a significant advantage: it eliminates the need to discuss the details of the trauma with a therapist, which is excellent and worth considering.

Come on, let her look at the table of contents again and see what other methods are worth prioritizing. Yoga, writing, and art therapy—oh, let's put those aside for now.

IFS (Inner Family Systems)? It sounded like an interesting theory, and she curiously turned to a new chapter.

Oh, so it's just the multiple roles of the self. And to give it such an abstract name, psychologists just love using fancy terms.

She was reading while making sarcastic remarks, but suddenly stopped.

"...Innocence and joy are most deeply wounded by pain and fear...We can only do our utmost to deny a part of our innocence, to exclude it...Perfectionist managers ensure that we don't get close to anyone..." [Note]

Before she knew it, her eyes and cheeks had become hot and wet.

In a blur, she hopelessly recalled her more innocent, more unrestrained, and more passionate self from her previous life.

On the night he proposed, accompanied by violin music, he put the engagement ring on her finger. She laughed and pulled him up, then hugged him and swayed him around for more than ten minutes.

Before that, she never knew she could be so crazy in front of others and do such a stupid thing.

On that day in Las Vegas, after watching the magic show, she said she wanted to perform a magic trick for him too, and then dragged him to City Hall.

Halfway there, he guessed it, and held her hand tighter and tighter, even sweating in the winter, her engagement ring on her left hand was a little damp.

Before entering the room, he asked her, "Are you really sure?"

She remembered lifting her non-existent skirt, curtsying to him, and playfully asking, "Mr. Leung, would you marry me?"

Then he carried her inside, and they became legally married.

In the first year of their marriage, they would go hiking on weekends. If there was a particularly flat section of the trail, she would laugh and jump onto his back, letting him carry her for a hundred or two meters.

Those moments were nothing like Hsu Ai-ta's.

She's not calm, not rational, not quick-witted, and has no taste. She's like a silly middle school student, the kind of "little girl in a pink bubble" that she looked down on the most during her adolescence.

A sour taste kept rising in her nose, and she could no longer calm down, so she rushed to the bathroom.

In the warm water, there was no need to distinguish between hot water and hot tears. A strange thought popped into her head: was that pink bubble Ada alright?

A little girl suddenly shrieked: "You remember me now? You despise me, think I'm childish and emotional, say I only cause trouble, and that I shouldn't want so much! Only children expect charity!"

"Isn't that right?" a calm voice retorted. "Adults need to learn self-sufficiency. Placing your hopes on others is a burden on them and irresponsible to yourself!"

The little girl continued shouting, "That's none other than Ned!"

Even her calm voice trembled: "But he... he went elsewhere. He has his job, he has his dreams..."

A wave of intense sadness washed over her, mingling with the heat of the bathroom and making it hard for her to breathe.

She turned off the shower, gasped for breath, grabbed a towel and wiped herself haphazardly.

A third, chilling voice appeared: "Calm down. The book says that addressing repressed emotions can trigger a strong reaction. Your amygdala is overreacting to the threat."

Yes, stop thinking about it, she told herself, don't let your emotions control you. In her past life, he never brought up separating, right? Even if it came to divorce, she knew Ned loved her.

But then an even sharper voice emerged: "You fool! That's because you gave in to him back then, you chased after him, and he felt guilty! What if you had stayed in America? Do you think he would have come back?"

Claudia hinted to you years ago that she should persuade Ned to return to New York after graduation. She said Ned valued you the most, and his family didn't need him to work so hard. She suggested that returning to New York and acting in plays would be a good option.

But you don't dare make that request of him. Why? Because you know in your heart that he doesn't want to come back! Even if you beg him, it won't make a difference!

"Stop talking, stop talking, you're all too noisy." She stumbled back onto the bed.

Her hair was wet and heavy, but she didn't care. The evening light was still blinding, so she pulled the blanket over herself to cover everything.

She saw a girl running through a long street, like a scene from an art film.

That familiar figure grew smaller and smaller until it was swallowed up by the hazy yellow light, as if embracing the sunrise, or as if lost in the twilight.

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Author's Note: [Note] The descriptions of EMDR and IFS are all quoted from "The Body Never Forgets: The Brain, Mind and Body in the Healing of Psychological Trauma".