Chapter 46. The lamplight and moonlight clashed, then returned hand in hand...
When Liang Siyu returned to the bedroom, Xu Aida was nestled in bed with soothing Lisa Ono music playing from the stereo.
His heart stirred slightly. He sat down on the edge of the bed and stroked her hand: "The day after tomorrow afternoon, we don't have an experiment. How about we go to that bar you mentioned?"
Her fingers trembled slightly as she nodded.
Liang Siyu thought the night had finally returned to peace, but in her half-awake state, she felt a glimmer of light. She groggily opened her eyes and saw her holding a phone.
The night was dark, and the white light from her phone illuminated her profile, giving it a slightly eerie look.
Xu Aida did indeed have insomnia. The DSM-5 was incredibly dry, with a whole bunch of fragmented diagnostic criteria.
How can there be such a terrible textbook? It lacks both systematic causal analysis and case studies, and offers no treatment methods whatsoever!
She quickly read that part, couldn't find the key points at all, angrily closed the book, and lay back in bed listening to music.
She told herself to stop thinking about it, but her mind was like a spinning movie theater, unable to stop.
After he fell asleep, she couldn't help but start searching again. She had already guessed that he had seen a professional, and CPTSD was probably the advice given by that person.
She's already looked at DSM-5, so now she might as well follow his note and look up what ICD-11 is.
She pressed the search button and found it was the WHO's Disease Diagnosis Manual, which had a web version. She clicked on it and found that the manual was more organized and used more straightforward language.
However, when she looked at the definition of CPTSD, she felt that she did not meet the criteria at all.
Exposed to inescapable torture, domestic violence, childhood abuse—bullshit! She didn't experience any of that! Absolutely not!
Diffuse mood regulation problems, a strong belief in one's own worthlessness, difficulty maintaining relationships, and impaired other social functions—that's only half a point, one in eight.
Aside from matters involving him, she is easily emotional, but otherwise she is perfectly fine.
However, "traumatic events are not remembered, but experienced as happening here and now." [Note]
She bit her lip, hesitating.
Forget it, let's not dwell on it anymore. How about we check his so-called autonomic nervous system disorder first? If it doesn't fit, then we can refute him, right?
She entered the keywords "CPTSD" and "autonomic nervous system disorder" and found that there were quite a few reviews, so she picked a highly cited paper to read.
The more she looked, the more alarmed she became. Were those physical discomforts really somatic symptoms?
However, there was something she vaguely sensed herself: every time she argued with him, she would easily get a headache.
She even recalled that before her divorce in her previous life, she was doing well at school, but as soon as she got home and talked to him for a few words, she would always feel a tightness in her chest and have some difficulty breathing.
It wasn't serious and didn't affect her daily life; she thought it was just psychological.
“Ada?” Liang Siyu squinted, his voice muffled.
"Huh?" She jolted, and the phone slammed against her chin with a "thud."
She gasped in pain and hurriedly turned off the screen, plunging everything into darkness again.
"Can't sleep?" He kept his eyes closed and groggily pulled her into his arms.
"It's okay, I'm going to sleep." She pressed against his chest, her voice muffled.
He patted her back twice, and seemed to fall asleep again.
She then realized that her back felt damp, and her pajamas were sticking to her body, making her feel a little uncomfortable.
She carefully pushed him away, got up and took a quick shower in the bathroom. When she came out wrapped in a towel, she found the bedside lamp was on. He was leaning against the headboard, rubbing his eyes, seemingly trying to wake up.
This scene suddenly overlapped with a Christmas holiday from 2023, the year before their divorce, when they went back to the United States together for their last Christmas.
She first went to California to spend a week with her parents, where they could still manage to act like a loving couple. But when she got to New York, she was completely fed up with it.
At the dinner table, they chatted about trivial and safe topics: the weather in New York, last week's charity ball, next year's US Open—it was all ridiculously hypocritical.
One day, after chatting with Richard in the study, he drank some wine, which was unusual for him, and was almost drunk. He was leaning against the headboard like this.
When she came out of the shower, he suddenly pulled her in front of him and asked her if she regretted it, and if she thought she would be happier finding a colleague and staying in the United States.
"No," she replied briefly, turning her head away.
How dare he ask such a question? Did he think she would have developed any extra feelings for other people during those two years of long-distance relationship?
Doesn't he realize that since meeting him, there have been no other options left?
"Really? Your eyes don't say that." He was drunk and forced her to look him in the eye.
She finally couldn't hold back and retorted: "What I regret most is that you feel like a stranger to me!"
She didn't quite remember what they said after that, only a vague impression that he tried to kiss her, but she pushed him away, and then he left.
“Ada?” He saw her return and patted the bedside.
Her feet felt like they were made of lead, and she couldn't take another step. The warm water vapor evaporated quickly, and a part of her seemed to float away.
She immediately realized what had happened. She took a deep, almost convulsive breath and forced herself to look away from him and towards the armchair by the window.
“It’s okay,” her voice was calmer than she had expected, though the last syllable trembled slightly. “I’ll sit on the sofa for a while.”
Liang Siyu threw off the covers and quickly got up, but suddenly stopped. He sat stiffly, gripping the edge of the bed, suppressing his urge to get closer, and stared at her intently.
She gripped her left arm with her right hand, her nails digging deep into it, while her left hand clenched the sofa armrest. Her chest, wrapped in a bath towel, heaved violently, and there were still water droplets on her shoulders.
"Ada? Shall I get you another bath towel?" He tried to soften his voice, waiting for her confirmation.
"No, no need." Her eyes widened, and her back leaned forward, as if she were ready to rush out at any moment.
It was so obvious; she was afraid of "him".
He never imagined that a small lamp in the bedroom, or a person waiting for her, would become a trigger.
Perhaps she was severely disciplined as a child for something trivial, like not going to bed on time? Verbal humiliation, or physical punishment?
He dared not imagine what his girl had gone through. His heart was breaking, but he dared not act rashly.
The room was filled with an unbearable silence, but he thought it couldn't be any more unbearable than her childhood.
Xu Aida slowly felt a chill. The velvet sofa beneath her was soft and gentle. Under the dim light, he looked at her quietly and attentively, his eyes filled with worry and restraint, not the kind of painful repression that she couldn't understand.
It's strange, his expression is very similar, but I can't say what's different.
She stood up, changed into her pajamas, and slipped into bed. "Go to sleep."
He waited a few seconds, then tried to gently hold her hand. She didn't move, so he turned off the light.
The person suffering from insomnia became Liang Siyu.
A few minutes later, he felt her slowly withdraw her hand. He heard her rustling as she turned over in the blankets, and then slowly quiet down.
He quietly opened his eyes. In the moonlight, she was curled up in a small ball, her back to him, the soft, downy hair beside her ears like the feathers of a fledgling bird.
He moved a little closer and could smell the fragrance of her hair, but without disturbing the birds' dreams.
On Thursday, she completed her experiments normally, quietly and efficiently, as if the terrified and stiff girl from the previous night was just an illusion.
During dinner, she suddenly suggested, "Let's not do algorithm work tonight, shall we go for a walk in Central Park?"
"Huh? Okay, okay." Liang Siyu stared at her blankly. He had been mentally prepared for her to be a little upset last night and might avoid him for a couple of days.
She slowly swallowed the broccoli in her mouth, and looked up slightly; he was looking at her.
She took a couple more bites of cod, fidgeted with her hair uncomfortably, and glanced at him furtively; he was still lost in thought.
What's so interesting about her! Do you really think she's some kind of terminally ill, pitiful little thing? So annoying!
Around 8 p.m., the sweltering heat of New York, like a greenhouse, finally cooled down a bit.
They entered Central Park from the strawberry field and walked along the main road toward the central fountain area.
Liang Siyu deliberately walked to her side and slightly behind to avoid unconsciously speeding up.
He tried to listen to her breathing, but her breathing was shallow, and bicycles kept whizzing past, making the signal acquisition extremely difficult.
He decided to observe her complexion carefully, noticing her slightly flushed cheeks and sweat on her nose. He then pulled her aside and offered her a glass of water: "Want some water?"
"I'm not thirsty." She shook her head and continued walking forward without stopping.
He didn't know what to say, so he took back his water cup. Just then, a group of bicycles sped by, and he took the opportunity to put his arm around her waist.
When they saw the fountain in the distance, she stopped and looked at the bench by the roadside.
He immediately said, "Shall we take a break?"
She nodded, sat down, and then couldn't help but gently correct him, "Ned, I'm a little tired. Sit with me for a while."
His hand, which was offering water, stiffened slightly, and he said in a low voice, "There's no difference."
She gripped the cup and emphasized again, "I'm thirsty, I want a drink of water."
He let go, unsure of what to say.
She said clearly, "Thank you for bringing the water bottle."
He paused for a moment, staring at the fine grass at his feet, and let out a long breath: "Ada, I've put a lot of pressure on you these past few weeks, haven't I?"
He realized that along with the so-called meticulous care, his anxiety was also constantly overflowing.
“It’s not so bad, actually.” She shrugged. “Yesterday and today were the most annoying. I guess the IST diagnosis confirmed your fears, which made you feel even more justified and bossy.”
He was mocked, but he actually felt a bit more relaxed: "Really? Everything was fine before?"
“Really.” She looked up at him and added, “However, if you dare to ask a third time, I seriously suspect that anxiety has impaired your cognitive abilities.”
He couldn't help but laugh, and gently teased her: "Pride is one of the seven deadly sins, sweetie."
She nodded. "Yes, I've always thought I was a little smarter, but you obviously don't. I think that means we've both committed the same sin."
He was stunned. After pondering the words, he could only shake his head with a smile: "Now I admit you're smarter, Ada."
She wasn't weak; it was he who was too arrogant to acknowledge that she possessed sufficient strength.
She leaned on his shoulder: "Based on that premise, I'm willing to admit that you're quite smart sometimes."
This girl was both proud and gentle. He stroked her hair: "I'm sorry, I should have trusted you more."
Her eyes welled up with tears: "It's a complicated matter, it's not your fault."
She initially tried to brush it off, but he knew her well and could sense that something was amiss, which was quite normal.
To be honest, she doesn't plan to see a counselor right away. She absolutely cannot reveal her rebirth, and consulting a counselor in a roundabout way probably won't be effective. It might be better for her to learn the relevant knowledge on her own.
He gently kissed the top of her head: "Ada, I'm still worried. I don't want to scare you, but do you know what I'm most afraid of? I'm afraid of the day when you're alone on the street, or when you're driving..."
He couldn't finish his sentence. She felt him trembling and instinctively hugged him tightly.
It felt as if a bird was screeching and thrashing inside her chest, almost tearing her lungs apart.
"No, no. Ned, believe me, it won't happen."
The bird flew out of its throat, "I... what I'm afraid of isn't outside."
The person who caused her immense pain and fear was also the one who brought her boundless happiness.
She dared not think any further, but couldn't help burying her face in his chest and crying.
He pulled his arms closer and gently patted her back, his eyes slightly moist.
She is implicitly admitting that her trigger point is a family-related scenario, not a public setting.
Such a level of openness is extremely rare. Her decisiveness far exceeded his expectations and imagination.
Xu Aida leaned against him, trying her best to take deep breaths to stop her tears.
How did things turn out like this?
She had only intended to take a walk, relax in the natural greenery, and remind him that she wasn't some pitiful little thing.
But now? She's actually crying in Central Park, where there are so many people around. It's so embarrassing.
"I want to go home." She used up a few tissues, barely managing to regain her composure, but the embarrassment lingered, like an ant crawling all over her.
He turned to the sycamore tree beside him, behind which was a gravel path.
“There aren’t many people here. 76th Street is just across the street. But it’s a bit dark. If you’re not feeling well, we can go back via the main road.” He put his arm around her shoulder.
"It's alright, let's go." She walked along the winding, quiet path by the moonlight. Some people walked with firm steps, others with warm arms.
As the moon rose again, Liang Siyu squeezed her shoulder: "Let's go, didn't you want to go to a bar to relax?"
"Go a little further down to the right, it's so sore," she instructed him to press it a couple more times. "Let's stop here, I want to finish deriving this part of the formula."
Since she had no experiments this afternoon, she thoroughly worked out a difficult part of the new algorithm and wanted to continue writing it in one go.
He glanced at the long pages of formula derivations, smiled slightly, and his fingers remained precise and strong.
"Okay, you can rest at midnight tonight. Tomorrow is Saturday, so we can sleep in."
"Bravo!" She was about to clap, but the next second, he pressed near her right shoulder blade, and she cried out in pain, "Ouch, ouch, be gentle!"
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Author's note: [Note] Quoted from the Chinese version of ICD-11.
Special reminder:
If you experience mental or mood disorders, please seek professional help. Ada's various choices are fictional scenarios based on specific circumstances and do not constitute any medical advice.
Readers without professional training cannot correctly interpret professional diagnostic manuals such as DSM-5, and should not imitate them.
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