Everyone's a Nutcase (Technique)

Apart from her weak yang energy, Gula didn't seem to have any major problems.

"Why won't you go outside?" I asked directly.

She stayed still with her back to me. After a long silence, she answered with one word: "Disgusting."

"What's disgusting?" She didn't seem to have any major physical problems either, so I was genuinely curious.

She was silent for a long time, then turned around and looked into my eyes.

She stared for another long while, as though debating whether to tell me.

I waited quietly the whole time.

I didn't know whether she wanted to help herself or just share, but eventually, she asked, "When you go out, especially to crowded places like buses, subways, malls, and restaurants, have you ever wondered whose mouth the air you're breathing in came out of?"

"Huh?!" I froze. What kind of bizarre question was that?

She frowned, her expression conflicted. "Whenever I think that the breath I'm taking might have come out of the mouth of that scruffy, fat middle-aged guy next to me, I can't help wanting to throw up."

"You... really are something!" I couldn't help marveling. "I've honestly never considered such a profound question."

Nothing stood up to too much scrutiny. I gave it some serious thought, and once I did, the image was so vivid that even I started feeling sick.

Gula must have noticed that I looked ready to throw up, because she began giggling happily.

Seeing her delight in my misery, I asked, "When two people share their suffering, it gets cut in half, right?"

"Hahaha! Isn't it disgusting? Does refusing to go out mean there's something wrong with me?" She spoke with complete conviction, looking as though she'd found a kindred spirit.

I frowned. "Now that you've put the idea in my head, I'm thinking even further. It might not even have come out of his mouth up top. It could have come out of the hole down below, then gone straight into your mouth. Tsk, tsk, tsk..."

The moment she heard that, she looked utterly unwell. Fighting back her nausea, she swallowed hard twice, but finally couldn't hold it in and ran to the bathroom to throw up.

"Hahahaha!" Now it was my turn to laugh.

I was secretly relieved that I'd sat near the door, a good distance away from her. Otherwise, she might not have been able to talk to me at all before having to run off and throw up.

She kept vomiting while I kept laughing without a shred of conscience.

President Chen stood at the stairs holding a plate of fruit. Hearing the strange noises in the room, he couldn't decide whether to come up or go back down.

Still laughing, I waved him away from the doorway. He hesitated, then retreated downstairs.

Gula kept throwing up until she was like a deflated ball, then slumped weakly back into her chair at the desk. She looked at me resentfully, probably without even the strength to tell me to get lost.

I smiled. "I was only joking. Why did you take it seriously?"

She gave me another fierce glare.

"There's nothing wrong with you. You just think too much. At most, you've got a bit of a psychological issue," I said.

"You're the one with something wrong with you," Gula muttered defiantly, pouting.

"You really are something. You even figured that out," I agreed.

She paused, carefully considering whether I meant that sincerely or sarcastically.

I straightened up and explained very seriously, "Actually, everyone has some degree of mental illness, with slightly different symptoms. There's depression, obsessive-compulsive disorder, schizophrenia, delusional disorder, and so on.

"These conditions share one common feature: your brain isn't under your control.

"In everyday terms, you think too much.

"A lot of people will casually say, 'Just stop thinking so much.'

"But the truth is, nobody can control their brain and stop thinking simply because they decide to.

"Sit quietly in meditation for three minutes, and you'll discover that your brain isn't under your control at all. All sorts of thoughts keep popping up, far, far more than you normally notice.

"Our brains are supposed to serve us, to be tools we use to solve problems, yet we can't control them.

"So everyone has some mental issues, whether mild or severe."

"Hehehe!" Gula laughed happily. "Well said. That sounds very reasonable. Looks like I'm not the odd one out after all."