Chao Youye was breathing heavily, his chest heaving violently, and every breath he took was accompanied by a burning pain in his lungs.
Cold sweat flowed like streams along the forehead, temples, and back, soaking the school uniform shirt and sticking to the skin with a sticky and cold feeling.
The severe pain in his temple had not completely disappeared, still throbbing stubbornly, but it was no longer as violent as it threatened to completely destroy him.
Slowly and with great difficulty he raised his head.
My vision was still a little blurry, as if through a layer of frosted glass, but the outline of the world before me was struggling to piece itself back together.
A gray, high sky. Bare, gnarled branches of a sycamore tree reaching toward the sky. A mottled, old wall covered in advertisements. A sidewalk strewn with golden and burnt-brown fallen leaves.
The real world.
He is back.
He was still kneeling on the cold ground, his hands supporting the rough surface, his body trembling uncontrollably from the severe pain and exhaustion he had just experienced.
He subconsciously raised one hand, and the small ginkgo leaf on the back of his hand slipped off, swirled, and fell back into the pile of fallen leaves on the ground.
Chao Youye's gaze was fixed, almost frozen, on the palm of his hand.
There were several thin bloodstains caused by friction with the rough ground when he was supporting himself, and tiny blood beads were slowly oozing out.
The bright red color, in the gray light of autumn, was as dazzling as the blood that had just been seen gushing out of Mu Xinrong's body countless times in the illusion.
Cold, sticky, scarlet with the smell of death.
In countless world lines, the scarlet caused by my own hands.
"Uh..." A suppressed groan, as if squeezed from the depths of the soul, rolled out of the throat.
His stomach churned violently, and a strong urge to vomit came over him again. He lowered his head suddenly and retched a few times, but nothing came out. Only cold sweat dripped onto the dead leaves.
He bit his lower lip so hard that the already bloodless lips turned white in an instant, leaving deep teeth marks.
Deep in the violet pupils, the absolute coldness of the throne of God and the fragility and despair of an abandoned child were like two violent undercurrents, madly biting, devouring, and merging with each other.
Reason is on the verge of collapse, like a candle about to be extinguished in a strong wind.
Can't fall here. Can't.
A cold thought, like a torpedo breaking through the ice, suddenly rose from the abyss of chaos with an unquestionable and absolute will, forcibly suppressing the pain and chaos that threatened to tear him apart at the soul level:
analyze.
Current condition: Sudden severe headache, accompanied by strong visual and auditory hallucinations and spatial perception disorders.
Predisposing Factors: Unknown. Possibly related to recent high levels of stress (family tragedy, school transition, emotional trauma), sleep deprivation (average sleep duration less than 4 hours in the past 72 hours), and potential neurotransmitter abnormalities.
Past history: No record of similar seizures. No family history of epilepsy.
Preliminary diagnosis: Possibility 1, migraine with complex aura (probability: 35%); Possibility 2, transient ischemic attack (TIA) (probability: 20%); Possibility 3, abnormal temporal lobe discharge (probability: 15%);
Possibility four: acute attack of severe stress disorder (probability: 25%); Possibility five: other organic or functional diseases (probability: 5%).
Action priorities: 1. Escape from the current environmental stimulus (secluded Wutong Road, low threat); 2. Maintain basic vital signs (respiration, heart rate);
3. Seek a safe environment for observation (rent an apartment); 4. If symptoms recur or worsen, seek medical attention immediately.
This mechanical self-analysis, with the cold precision of a medical report, was like a bucket of ice water poured over my head. My chaotic consciousness was forcibly constrained, categorized, and labeled as "symptoms."
The instinct of absolute control over itself, which originated from the will of the throne of God, temporarily took over this body on the verge of collapse in the disguise of scientific rationality at the critical moment of life and death.
Chao Youye's breathing gradually calmed down, although his body was still trembling slightly. He supported himself on his knees and tried to stand up from the cold ground very slowly, inch by inch.
There was a sharp sting from the wounds where his knees and palms rubbed against the ground, but this "real" pain became the life-saving straw that anchored his mind at this moment.
Just as he struggled to stand up and moved forward with unsteady steps, his eyes inadvertently swept across the place where he had just curled up.
On the ground, between the scattered dead leaves, lay a hardcover notebook.
The dark blue cover had some frayed edges, showing it had been used for a long time. It had obviously fallen out of his open schoolbag when he had just struggled in pain and fallen to the ground.
Chao Youye's pupils suddenly contracted.
He recognized the book.
It's a physics notebook. Mu Xinrong's physics notebook.
The day they broke up was a chaotic one. He remembered shoving all the things Mu Xinrong had forced on him in an attempt to keep him together into the depths of his schoolbag, and then practically ran away.
This notebook was probably one of them. For a month, he had never opened that compartment in his schoolbag, as if as long as he didn't see it, he could pretend it didn't exist.
At this moment, it unexpectedly fell out and lay on the cold fallen leaves, like a silent, untimely ghost.
For some reason, Chao Youye didn't bend down to pick it up immediately. His eyes were drawn to a corner of the notebook's edge - it didn't seem to contain the contents of the notebook, but a piece of paper that was casually inserted inside, with a small part of it exposed.
The edges of the paper were charred and curled, as if they had been burned.
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