Chapter 35 Moonlight and Literature
——He read all the texts that could save her, but he still couldn't find a more effective prescription than "love".
Mo Xiaohan's study has completely changed.
The sandalwood bookshelves that once held weapons blueprints, gang deeds, and encrypted account lists are now filled with neatly stacked medical tomes, a small PTSD medical archive.
Neural Mechanisms of Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder
Exposure Therapy in Clinical Practice
EMDR Therapy Handbook
…
Seventeen professional books were piled on the black marble table, each of them curled at the edges.
A few days ago, when A Tai was sorting, he accidentally knocked off the topmost book, and the scattered inner pages were covered with scarlet annotations - not written with a fountain pen, but written by Mo Xiaohan with blood from his fingertips.
"P.214 Memory Reconstruction—She remembers the sound of chains at the auction house and needs desensitization training in advance."
"P.302 Safe Environment Construction - Sound Insulation in Bedrooms (Completed, Tested at 32 decibels)."
"P.489 Drug side effects—benzodiazepines can worsen nightmares (stop using them decisively)."
The most shocking thing is the scratch on the title page, which looks like it was repeatedly scratched by a dagger: "If medicine can't save her, I will kill everyone who hurts her with my own hands."
This almost paranoid cruelty took on a different look when he turned and walked towards the bedroom.
Mo Xiaohan dismantled four military night vision goggles, took out the soft light filters that could filter out strong light, melted the moonstones from two antique pocket watches, and finally embedded them in a handmade Venetian glass cover to make a special bedside lamp for Ruan Xingchen.
When the light fell on the pillow, it revealed a hazy Milky Way, the shape of the constellation she had pointed out to him outside the tent at the medical camp when she was five years old.
"Why is it this bright?" She lay on the bed and watched him connect the wires, poking the glass cover with her fingertips.
The man who was debugging the circuit didn't even look up: "If it's darker, you'll be scared. If it's brighter, you'll wake up."
Later she discovered that this lamp held more meaning. Whenever she turned over more than three times, the light would automatically adjust to a warm yellow color, which was the color of the kerosene lamp in the medical team's tent when they first met.
The dim light of this lamp always reflected the figure guarding the bedside when she was most uneasy. When Ruan Xingchen screamed and sat up again, she could always smell the scent of wormwood mixed with gunpowder.
Mo Xiaohan leaned against the head of the bed, holding the book "Erasure and Rewriting of Traumatic Memories" in one hand, and gently patting her back with the other hand, as if to coax her to sleep.
"You..." Her throat was dry, "How come you always know?"
The book snapped shut, and he tapped his temples with his fingertips, smiling gently: "Here, is your biological clock."
The moonlight illuminated the faint dark circles under his eyes, and Ruan Xingchen suddenly realized that Mo Xiaohan might never have really slept since she moved into this bedroom.
She pulled his hand and put it on her cheek: "Mad man."
"Yeah." He lowered his head and brushed his thumb across the corner of her wet eyes, "Your crazy."
At dawn, A-Tai's voice came through the door: "Boss, Professor Klein will attend today's medical summit."
Mo Xiaohan was replacing the batteries in the lamp. He didn't stop and just asked, "What time does it start?"
"Ten o'clock in the morning, at the Royal College of Physicians." A Tai said hesitantly, "But the professor never accepts private consultations. Last year, the Prince of Dubai offered 20 million US dollars..."
The screwdriver returned to its place with a "click" and Mo Xiaohan stood up.
"Get the car ready." He picked up his suit jacket and glanced back towards the bedroom. "Don't wake her."
But he didn't know that every word he said fell into her ears.
She ran barefoot to the terrace and saw Mo Xiaohan's black Maybach slowly driving out of the manor gate. The taillights of the car shrank into two small dots in the morning mist and finally disappeared at the end of the road.
My heart was beating like a drum in my chest.
She knew that he must be looking for someone who could make her no longer afraid of the dark.
She also knew that he would succeed.
As the morning light climbed onto the desk, Ruan Xingchen opened the latest page of her diary, which read: "He is the boundary between my dreams and waking life. Now, I want to cross this line for him."
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