Seeing a Doctor

Wu Changkong kept his word.

Early the next morning, an unremarkable black soul-conductor sedan stopped beneath the teachers' apartment building. Wu Changkong stood beside it, dressed in white as snow, his posture straight and his expression carrying the standard coldness of someone who meant, I keep my word. He had already opened the front passenger door for her.

Lu Menge stood at the apartment entrance with a thermos in hand, her amber fox eyes fixed on the open car door. She wore a gray suit jacket over black trousers today, along with the most understated pair of low-heeled ankle boots she owned—she had specifically traded out her stilettos because she felt she might have to handle all sorts of unexpected situations today. She had spent half the night thinking about how to explain things clearly before he shoved her into a consultation room. After rehearsing it over and over, she reached one conclusion: play it by ear.

"Teacher Wu." She walked up to the car and tilted her head at him. "Do you really think there's something wrong with my mind?"

"Get in." Wu Changkong's voice was steady.

"Answer me first."

Wu Changkong looked at her, then lowered his gaze. "We'll talk after the examination results come out."

Lu Menge took a deep breath and bent down to get into the passenger seat. Fighting a Titled Douluo outside the teachers' apartments would get her performance bonus docked by Director Long, and besides, she was wearing a newly bought suit jacket. Wu Changkong closed the door for her, walked around to the driver's seat, and started the car.

A voice suddenly came from the back seat. "Good morning."

Lu Menge turned around. Gu Yue sat in the back with a book on her knees, her expression as cool and composed as ever. Her purple eyes met Lu Menge's fox eyes in the rearview mirror. Gu Yue gave a slight nod, then turned a page.

"...Why did he bring you too?" Lu Menge lowered her voice.

"Teacher Wu came to see me last night. He said he needed my cooperation today, and I agreed." Her eyes remained on the page. Lu Menge stared at that unconcerned face in the mirror and squeezed out a sentence through clenched teeth. "Just you wait."

Gu Yue quietly turned another page without looking at Lu Menge. She shifted a note tucked between the pages half an inch to the side. On it was the latest draft of a secret message she had written to Di Tian that morning—"Senior Lu has now been personally escorted to psychiatry by a certain Titled Douluo. Accompanying family member: me. Further details of the treatment to follow."

The car drove steadily down Eastsea City's main road. Wu Changkong drove as steadily as he did everything else, both hands on the wheel and his eyes ahead. Only while waiting at red lights would he glance at the passenger seat from the corner of his eye. That glance held complicated things—concern, nervousness, and a faint trace of awkward tenderness. Lu Menge opened her mouth as if to say something, then closed it again. Forget it. She would explain once they reached the clinic.

The therapy center stood on a quiet street in central Eastsea City, a three-story building with cream-white walls and a wooden plaque at the entrance that read, "Zhen Hua Psychology Clinic." A ginkgo tree grew in the courtyard, its leaves half yellow, as though it had agreed with the one by Eastsea Academy's field to change seasons at the same time. When they entered, the receptionist clearly perked up at the sight of a cold-faced handsome man like Wu Changkong, but her attention was quickly drawn to Lu Menge and Gu Yue following behind him.

"Hello, do you have an appointment?"

"Wu Changkong. An appointment with Dr. Zhang."

"Of course. Third floor, second room on the left—Dr. Zhang is already waiting for you."

Lu Menge noticed how smoothly Wu Changkong gave the therapist's name, and something shifted in her heart. Referred by Senior Zhenhua—he had contacted Zhenhua for her sake. Who was Zhenhua? An authority in the Federation's spiritual-type soul master world, someone who normally never made house calls. For Wu Changkong to get him to recommend someone meant he had not slept last night. She suddenly felt a little guilty, along with something else she could not quite name.

The consultation room door stood open. Dr. Zhang Xiaopeng was waiting there, around forty years old, with a square face, gold-rimmed glasses, a gentle smile, and a medical chart in his hand. He was a Seven-Ring Titled Douluo of the spiritual type. Therapists of that rank were incredibly rare, and for Zhenhua to send him over showed that Wu Changkong's influence was greater than Lu Menge had imagined.

"Teacher Wu, Teacher Lu, I've heard so much about you both." Dr. Zhang shook their hands in turn. When he shook Lu Menge's, he looked at her an extra moment, professional curiosity flashing in his eyes before he ushered them inside.

The room was unexpectedly cozy: sofas, potted plants, several landscape paintings on the walls, and pale blue curtains filtering the sunlight into something soft. If not for the diagnostic support instruments on the desk, Lu Menge would almost have thought she had entered someone's living room. Wu Changkong and Gu Yue waited in the reception area outside. Dr. Zhang shut the door and sat across from Lu Menge, his posture relaxed and his pen resting on the chart, like an old friend ready to listen to a story.

"Teacher Wu gave me a brief overview—he said you might have been under a lot of pressure lately. So today, we'll just have a casual chat."

Lu Menge's brow twitched slightly at that. Wu Changkong had only said she was stressed? He had not mentioned the Nine-Headed White Tiger, her cousin the reincarnated Silver Dragon King, or Di Tian doing odd jobs for her? She leaned back in her chair, a trace of composure returning to her fox eyes. "Doctor, he said I have schizophrenia with hallucinations and delusions. Let me establish one premise first—I'm not crazy. My true form is the ancient divine beast, the Nine-Headed White Tiger. I've lived longer than every living thing on this continent. Everything he calls 'abnormal' is actually true."

Dr. Zhang was quiet for several seconds, then picked up his pen and drew a short line on the chart.

"Could you tell me when this 'living for a very long time' you mentioned began? Just speak freely. You don't need to organize your thoughts."

Lu Menge opened her mouth to answer, then paused. That was not easy to answer. She did not know how long she had lived—she had lived so long that she could not be bothered to remember. Leaning forward slightly, she tested the waters. "Doctor, you won't believe me even if I tell the truth. Let's do it another way—scan my sea of consciousness directly with your spiritual power."

Dr. Zhang raised his eyes.

"What is your spiritual power level?"

"Higher than yours."

"I'm Seven-Ring."

"Much, much higher than yours."

Dr. Zhang watched her for a moment before saying seriously, "An invasive scan of the sea of consciousness carries risks for the subject. I need to confirm with your family before deciding."

Lu Menge leaned back on the sofa, the corner of her lips lifting slightly. A Titled Douluo, a Seven-Ring spiritual-type Titled Douluo, had been sent to consult Wu Changkong by just two sentences from her—after living so long, an authoritative institution was finally about to verify her identity. She really wanted to see Wu Changkong's expression when he learned the truth.

In the waiting area, Wu Changkong sat with his back as straight as ever, though his fingers kept tapping against his knee. Gu Yue sat across from him, holding that book, though its pages had barely moved from beginning to end. The consultation room door opened. Dr. Zhang leaned half his body out.

"Teacher Wu, could you come in for a moment? Teacher Lu volunteered to undergo a spiritual power scan—she says her spiritual power is higher than mine, much higher. There is a certain level of risk involved, so I need your consent."

Wu Changkong stood and walked over to Dr. Zhang, lowering his voice. "Some of the things she said today—you may have already heard them. Spiritual power higher than yours—she has said similar things to her cousin before. She says she has lived for many years, has many names, and that everyone fears her. She treats other people's fear as something that truly happened."

Dr. Zhang's expression gradually turned grave. "She has begun turning the sense of power from her hallucinations into part of her self-perception. This is a classic compensatory delusion—she lacks a sense of control in real life, so she builds an omnipotent self-image in fantasy. Has she claimed any specific identity? For example, called herself 'ancient' or a 'Sacred Beast'?"

"Yes. White Tiger, Nine-Headed White Tiger, older than even Di Tian, the ferocious beast from the legends." Wu Changkong paused. "She says Di Tian is her subordinate. When she is at her most anxious, she unconsciously imitates animal sounds—she came to find me the night before last, and what came out of her mouth was not a human voice."

Dr. Zhang's grip tightened around his pen. "What animal?"

"A cat."

Dr. Zhang took a quiet breath. Stripping away the complex terminology, he brought his words down to the most direct conclusion. "Teacher Wu, abused victims are often forced over long periods to imitate animals. They develop a powerful, worshipped personality and internalize the most imposing image of their abuser as part of themselves—Di Tian, the Beast God, the person she was forced to please but could not resist. As more and more of these personality fragments accumulate, her complete delusional system places Di Tian in the role of a 'subordinate,' then incorporates images like dragons and the God Realm into a myth of herself as a Sacred Beast. The things her cousin told you yesterday—the skirt in subzero weather, washing until her hands bled, vomiting over the sink—those were not from this year, nor from last year. From the moment she could remember, she was raised as a plaything. And one of the labels placed on that plaything was 'kitty.'"

Wu Changkong stood very straight. A window at the far end of the corridor stood open, and the early winter wind poured in, numbing his fingertips with cold. He looked back at the tightly shut consultation room door. Making Di Tian run errands, calling Gu Yue her cousin, folding every ancient myth into her identity—because in reality, she could not even make decisions about her own body. That catlike cry had not been an accident. It was an echo of too many voices carved into her bones. He gently pressed the Heavenfrost Sword deeper into its sheath.

"Then I'll leave her to you. No matter what she says—as long as you can make her feel a little better, help her trust you enough to tell you what's in her heart, help her understand that no one will force her anymore, then coming here today will have been worthwhile."

Dr. Zhang nodded, pushed open the door, returned to the consultation room, and sat down again. He did not mention the conversation he had just had with Wu Changkong. He merely picked up the chart calmly, as though nothing had happened. "Teacher Lu, I have received your family's consent. We can proceed with the scan now—but only if you fully open your sea of consciousness to outside spiritual power. The process may be uncomfortable. Are you sure?"

Lu Menge swept her hair back and narrowed her fox eyes, her tone lazy but certain. "Dr. Zhang, I'm not crazy. You'll know once you scan me."

Dr. Zhang took a deep breath and raised his right hand, palm aimed at Lu Menge's forehead. A pale blue halo of spiritual power spread from his palm and entered her sea of consciousness, gentle and steady. Then his entire body froze. It was not that he had discovered something halfway through the scan—it was that the instant he entered, he collided with something indescribable. His spiritual power was like a small river rushing headlong into an ocean. No, not an ocean, but a void deeper, older, and more terrifying than the sea—a chaos that had existed before the universe had formed its first star. Deep within that chaos, the phantoms of nine tiger tails slowly unfurled, each coiled around laws older than a Titled Douluo. A pair of amber vertical pupils opened in his sea of consciousness. There was no hostility in them; they merely existed. Their mere existence was enough to make the knees of a Seven-Ring Titled Douluo crack faintly.

Dr. Zhang abruptly withdrew his spiritual power. Cold sweat covered his forehead, and his gold-rimmed glasses had slipped crookedly to the tip of his nose. He sat in his chair with his fingers clenched around the medical chart. Lu Menge crossed her legs and tilted her head at him, a faint half-smile on her lips.

"Well, Doctor?"

Dr. Zhang opened his mouth, pushed his glasses back into place, and looked down at the chart. Suddenly, all those medical terms on the page felt like some ancient joke. But then he remembered what Wu Changkong had said outside—"Sacred Beast White Tiger," "Di Tian doing odd jobs," "forced to please her abuser," "internalizing the strongest Beast God as part of her personality," "cat sounds." Lu Menge had indeed tamed Di Tian, her abuser, into her subordinate through abuse. The wounds her cousin had described, the animalistic reaction she had blurted out in the corridor, her calm arrogance today that was nearly vengeful—these were all irrefutable proof of trauma.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead, slowly rose, and turned to a fresh page in the chart. "Teacher Lu, the scan results... are not very clear. I need to speak with your family again. Please rest for a while." He hurried out of the consultation room.

In the waiting area, Wu Changkong and Gu Yue stood at the same time. Dr. Zhang wiped the cold sweat from his forehead, turned a page in the chart, and spoke with a trace of fear that had not yet fully settled.

"Teacher Wu, the scan results—Teacher Lu's sea of consciousness does indeed contain an extremely powerful spiritual barrier. But that is not proof that she is mentally sound. On the contrary—her delusions have become so profound that even a spiritual power scan cannot penetrate them. When ordinary people pretend to be powerful, their spiritual power can at most pile up a fake mountain. Teacher Lu is different. She has piled up an entire continent. In her imagination, she has truly lived for tens of thousands of years and truly possesses the power of a Sacred Beast. Fantasies of this intensity are beyond what a normal person's spiritual power could ever produce. The deeper her suffering in reality, the thicker the armor she has forged from fantasy."

Wu Changkong lifted his eyes from the chart and looked toward the closed consultation room door. This time, his expression was light and faint.

"...Then keep treating her. If she won't admit she's ill, don't tell her. If you prescribe medicine, mix it into her food. She likes braised pork and sweet-and-sour ribs—the heavier the oil and salt, the better it will hide the bitterness. Gu Yue, keep an eye on her in the dorm. If she turns off the tap and washes something for too long again, if she acts differently from usual, tell me immediately. Contact Dr. Zhang anytime. Don't put the costs through the academy. I'll pay for them myself. Is there anything I shouldn't do?"

Dr. Zhang was silent for a moment before lowering his head to write the prescription. "Try not to provoke her. She built this mythological system to protect herself. Directly exposing it will only shatter her further. Stability is the priority. We'll first use medication to help her sleep. If she can accept it at the next follow-up visit, I'll try more superficial localization of the brain regions."

Wu Changkong said nothing. He only carefully folded the diagnosis form and prescription, then placed them in the inner pocket of his coat. He turned and went to the pharmacy to collect the medicine. Walking down the corridor, he slowed his steps more than usual. The blue soles of his shoes landed on the white tiles one step at a time, as though he were afraid of waking someone.

Gu Yue stood in the waiting area, watching Wu Changkong's back disappear at the end of the corridor. Her shoulders gradually slackened. Leaning against the wall, she covered her face with both hands and let out a warped groan through her fingers. "She isn't mentally ill—the ancient energy fluctuations bounced his spiritual power back, and he actually thought it was a barrier created by her imagination—forget it. Let him keep taking her home and treating her slowly. Maybe when he is willing to let her true form fight the Heavenfrost Sword, he'll finally understand... Though after the fight, he'll probably think she's even more deeply traumatized." She sighed, lifted her face from her palms, and headed for the consultation room.

Inside, Lu Menge reclined on the sofa with her thermos in hand. Seeing Gu Yue enter, she flashed a victorious smile. "That doctor scanned me. He was terrified. He went to tell Wu Changkong—he should be explaining that I'm normal right now."

Gu Yue fell silent for a moment, then walked over and sat in the chair opposite her. She placed a handkerchief on Lu Menge's knee—the one Wu Changkong had given her earlier.

"He used a special channel to get this appointment today. He didn't sleep at all last night, and he was downstairs at six this morning because he was afraid you'd run off. He even put hot milk in the front passenger storage compartment—you didn't see it. In all of Eastsea City, he couldn't find a second person capable of getting Zhenhua to recommend a doctor overnight. But he found one."

Lu Menge looked at the neatly folded handkerchief on her knee, raised her head, and called, "Gu Yue." Her lips parted slightly.

Gu Yue stood and headed for the door, interrupting her in a calm voice. "No need to thank me. Figure out how to coax him."

Lu Menge leaned back on the sofa and lifted the handkerchief to wipe her cheek. The thermos beside her gave off a faint warmth. She stared for a long time at the pale gold embossed mark at one corner of the handkerchief on her knee, until the sunlight coming through the window made its base color shimmer in mottled patches. At the end of the corridor outside, the pharmacist passed the divided packets of pills through a small window. Wu Changkong accepted the paper bag and opened it to read the directions carefully. Then he walked toward the consultation room, pushed open the door with the medicine bag in hand, entered, and said evenly, "Dr. Zhang prescribed medicine. Take it for two weeks first, then come back for a follow-up. If it works, we'll continue."

Lu Menge stood from the sofa and looked at the medicine bag. She opened her mouth, wanting to say that doctor had it completely wrong—wanting to say she really was not sick—but every word that reached her lips was pressed back down by that handkerchief. She took the salary card from her pocket, placed it face down on the coffee table, and pushed it a short distance toward him.

"Take the salary card back—I'm not short on money. Then let's go eat."

She thought Wu Changkong would take it. He did not. He pushed the card back toward her, his tone as calm as usual. "Keep it. I'll keep transferring money into it every month."

"...I really don't need it—"

"Keep it even if you don't."

Lu Menge lowered her head and looked at the card without speaking. Her finger tapped lightly against its surface, then she put it back into her pocket. She took the medicine too. She had obediently come when he brought her to psychiatry. For the first time in all her long life, someone had mistaken her for a person with delusions, yet that misunderstanding felt softer than every truth she had ever heard. They would eat first. In a few days, she would find a way to let him know—she had not lied to him. She had simply lived too long, so long that even the truth sounded like a delusion. So long that there was only one person willing to slap a card onto a windowsill for her, then place a bag of medicine she did not need back into her hands.