Hypnotherapy

"We could actually try working together to deceive her." Number Two sounded somewhat hesitant.

"Let's hear it."

"According to our psychologists' analysis, the bond between you two has reached the highest level of love and belonging in Maslow's Hierarchy of Needs. With a foundation like that, one-sided deception would naturally be unlikely to work."

Zhang Youzhi thought that made a lot of sense, so he added:

"Of course I know that. I've always felt we had a connection, that whenever something happened to one of us, the other could sense it. Right after I got my test results, she called me. If I hadn't pulled myself together in time, she probably would've suspected something."

Number Two's voice continued over the phone.

"Yes, deceiving her would be difficult, but planting subconscious suggestions would be quite easy. Here's the situation, Mr. Zhang.

During our company's regular review meeting yesterday, our psychologists and hypnotists jointly submitted a report on subconscious hypnosis.

The report suggested that we could try implanting false memories and subconscious suggestions in your girlfriend. This might allow her to overlook the fact that you've died in her daily life, sparing her the emotional pain.

It could also reduce the memories and associations arising from the time she spent with you."

Zhang Youzhi thought the proposal had some merit.

"Hypnosis, huh... Your company has quite a few talented people. This is a good plan. I think we can go ahead with it. Pairing this hypnotherapy with the relationship-expert approach should work pretty well." Zhang Youzhi chuckled twice, with no discernible emotion.

"We're very glad you think so. This would be our company's first attempt to use hypnotherapy on a client, so we need your authorization."

"Are there risks?"

"The main risk is that your girlfriend might break through the mental fog our hypnotists and psychologists create for her... In other words, if your girlfriend traces the hypnosis back to its source and recovers all her memories..."

"I get it. Your hypnosis is like putting a paper screen over a window for her, right? Once she pokes through it, it's all over." Zhang Youzhi sighed.

"Exactly. That's why we'll need your cooperation, as well as her father's. We'll need to take certain steps afterward to minimize the chance of that paper screen being punctured-our hypnotists will reinforce it as much as possible."

"Such as?"

"While you're still alive, we need you to remove as many reminders of your life together as possible, so familiar surroundings won't bring back memories. Delete the pictures of you together from her phone, and so on. The specific steps will be up to you."

"I understand. Thank you."

"Of course. It's our job."

Zhang Youzhi checked the balance in his mobile wallet. There was a little over seven thousand yuan. After some thought, he transferred six thousand to his bank account, then opened JD.com and bought the mid-to-high-end phone she had always wanted.

Tricking her into deleting her photos wasn't realistic. Better to coax her into switching phones at the right moment, then quietly hide the old one. That should take care of it.

Their memories together were mostly tied to their rented place in Yimeng and the university they had both attended. As long as Li Douyu stayed away from those two places, there shouldn't be a problem.

That would pretty much erase all traces of him from her memory.

He had twelve hundred left.

Thirteen days to live. Assuming he didn't need to eat on the last day, that gave him a hundred yuan a day.

With that budget, lodging would be a problem too. It looked like Zhang Youzhi would have to prepare to live on the streets.

Naturally, the train departing from Longnan Station wasn't taking him to visit some supposedly terminally ill high school classmate. The chat logs and everything else had been fabricated in advance by the funeral-services company to help Zhang Youzhi leave early.

When buying his ticket, Zhang Youzhi had casually picked one of the farthest destinations, a small city he had never heard of.

Four thirty in the afternoon.

After getting off the high-speed train, Zhang Youzhi found himself in an unfamiliar city. The station wasn't in the city proper, but out in the suburbs.

"Hey, young man! Need a ride downtown?" A driver waved to Zhang Youzhi from a distance.

Zhang Youzhi shook his head. The drivers around stations charged far too much. He only had twelve hundred yuan, and his most pressing concern was finding somewhere to stay.

With a backpack on his shoulders, Zhang Youzhi drew on his experience of traveling frequently and managed to find a bus stop near the station.

Sitting on the bus, Zhang Youzhi began to think about his final resting place.

First, he had to find somewhere that would ensure he could survive the first ten days. Food, water, and shelter were all essential.

These were his final days. He ought to live them with a little quality.

Second, his plan was to force himself through the last three days of his life using those two pills, making sure he could still take care of himself. Then he would use his remaining time to reach somewhere deserted, tidy up his appearance, and quietly leave with dignity.

That would ensure his death didn't disturb anyone.

Dying in the middle of a road would be rather inconsiderate.

Perhaps it was all the morphine he had injected earlier, but Zhang Youzhi felt strangely wired.

He had already turned off his phone's satellite location tracking, but kept its internet connection active so he could contact the necessary people at the very end.

This place was far enough from both Longnan and Yimeng. Judging by the climate, it was probably somewhere in the far north, colder than either of those places.

Six in the evening.

He had reached the city proper.

It was worth mentioning that Zhang Youzhi was sitting on an orange seat on the bus, one reserved for the elderly, infirm, disabled, pregnant, and young children.

The bus was crowded. At the next stop, several more passengers boarded, including an old man.

"Excuse me, young man. Could I have your seat? My legs aren't very good."

He wasn't aggressive. His voice was gentle, and he merely bent over slightly to ask Zhang Youzhi.

He had a slight limp. His legs really did seem to give him trouble.

Looking at the bus full of primary school children wearing red scarves, Zhang Youzhi felt that, as a twenty-five-year-old, he ought to set an example.

Zhang Youzhi braced himself against the handrail and stood up.

Perhaps he had strained too hard. Or perhaps his lungs were about to burst.

Whatever the reason, he suddenly began vomiting mouthful after mouthful of blood.

It also spattered the old man's white beard with scarlet spots.

Then blood surged from his throat like a fountain. The tissues Zhang Youzhi had prepared beforehand couldn't keep up at all; they were soaked through almost instantly.

The people on the bus who noticed what was happening fell silent for a moment, then erupted into chaos.

This wasn't Zhang Youzhi's fault. Morphine could only block the pain, not alleviate the disease. His lungs were probably full of blood by now. He should count himself lucky they hadn't developed edema. What was a little coughing up blood, as long as he wasn't vomiting pieces of his organs?

His remaining thirteen days were only theoretical. In reality, Zhang Youzhi could die at any moment.

But the other passengers didn't know that. Nor had anything like it crossed their minds.

The old man's expression visibly froze. He nearly fainted from fright when he couldn't catch his breath.

The primary school children on the bus went quiet for a moment, then began screaming one after another. Some were even frightened into tears.

With his mouth full of blood, Zhang Youzhi gave the old man an apologetic grin. Then, drawing on his experience covering classes for Li Douyu, he barked a couple of stern orders at the children to keep quiet, barely managing to settle them down.

Then he spat out several more mouthfuls of blood.

The blood burst out like a lake breaching its banks, splashing onto his clothes, his shoes, and everywhere inside the bus, like oil spattering from a pan whose lid hadn't been put on in time.

The trembling old man was utterly stunned.

So were the other passengers.

Just then, the driver noticed the commotion and hurriedly stopped the bus.

Zhang Youzhi had only just managed to get up and hadn't found his balance. The momentum sent him crashing to the floor, leaving him sprawled in the pool of blood he had made.