Chapter 108: Twenty-One

Because she’d overheard some kind words about Ye Can from others at lunch, Lin Zixi added a generous helping of avocado—Ye Can’s favorite—to her vegetable salad at dinner.

Ye Can cradled a big bowl of salad and boiled chicken breast, plopped down on the living room sofa, and dug in. Lin Zixi sat on the adjacent sofa, propping her chin in her hand, her eyes fixed unblinkingly on her.

Perhaps overwhelmed by that intense gaze, Ye Can hugged her salad bowl and shifted slightly to the side, dodging Lin Zixi’s line of sight. The usually shameless girl shoveled food into her mouth, a bit embarrassed, before mumbling, “Why are you staring at me like that? Do you have something to say?”

Lin Zixi shook her head. “Nope. Can’t I just look a little longer at the person I like?”

Ye Can let out an “Oh,” hesitated for a moment, then said, “Fine, whatever. But you really don’t have anything to tell me?”

Lin Zixi blinked. “Nope? Why, do you have something to discuss with me?”

Ye Can muttered, “Not really. I just worry you might be dealing with some trouble and not telling me about it.”

Lin Zixi got it instantly—she knew Ye Can was asking about the scandal. She smiled and gave her a reassuring look. “I’ve already handled the trouble. You just focus on preparing and throw yourself into work.”

Ye Can showed no particular reaction to that. She simply devoured the salad in just a few bites, then told Lin Zixi, “I’m off to play mahjong then. If I get back late tonight, you go ahead and sleep.”

Lin Zixi nodded. “Okay.”

Sure enough, the coordinator soon knocked on the door to round everyone up. Jiang Yue and Ye Can headed to the large living room next door, where they joined members from the other groups to start a mahjong game. Ever since Guan Shengkai came up with the idea of using mahjong to bond the actors, the hall reliably opened tables every evening after eight.

At first, Ye Can had been extremely reluctant to join in. With no other choice, Lin Zixi had sacrificed her own comfort and coaxed her into it by sharing a bed. After that, over the following stretch of time, Ye Can played hundreds of rounds at the mahjong table with the other actors, laughing all the way. Gradually, she didn’t even need to be called—she started joining in proactively.

Lin Zixi took note of every one of these little changes.

After Ye Can left the room, Lin Zixi cleared the dishes from the table and headed into the bedroom.

Ever since taking on the role of Ye Can’s manager at the start of the year, Lin Zixi—now backed by a powerful supporter—suddenly found her work over a hundred times easier than before.

No more looming deadlines breathing down her neck, no more clients endlessly demanding endless revisions with their unreasonable nitpicks. It gave her perpetually tense brain a much-needed break.

Aside from the hectic adjustments during the filming of Not Known to Others, Lin Zixi had gained heaps of free time once Ye Can joined the Dongshan crew.

That spare time let her earn her professional manager certification. It allowed her to brainstorm new outlines while Ye Can trained and knock out some casual writing tasks. Most importantly, it gave her the space to properly assess Ye Can’s mental state.

As early as when they joined the Not Known to Others crew, Lin Zixi had wanted to take Ye Can to the hospital. But Ye Can was so deathly afraid of hospitals that Lin Zixi had no choice but to connect online with Ye Can’s former attending physician and discuss her current condition.

Using some discreet methods, Lin Zixi got the doctor the answers she needed from Ye Can. She even tricked her into a hospital visit under the guise of a checkup, getting a full report on her physical health and pinpointing the root of her issues.

From a scientific standpoint, Ye Can was perfectly normal physically. But mentally, her condition was dire. Without medication or forced treatment, she’d stay trapped in this state forever.

Just as Lin Zixi had suspected from the start, the doctor agreed: after drowning, Ye Can’s brain had been deprived of oxygen, causing partial memory loss. Her second personality had taken over the main one, leading to her current situation.

And that second personality might have even relegated the original to the subconscious.

Ye Can’s second personality was like a wild, bratty kid—manic and erratic, but far less aggressive than the first. In fact, it could even be called gentle.

Once they reached that conclusion, Lin Zixi immediately looped in Ye Shen. Together, they consulted the doctor and settled on a treatment plan.

Ye Shen believed that if the second personality could stabilize, she’d be willing to let the first one go. Of course, whether to abandon it or not wasn’t entirely up to her.

It all depended on Ye Can’s own situation.

Still, Ye Shen felt that the current Ye Can was happier than before. Forgetting the past might not be such a bad thing.

At the very least, it let them set aside those shattered, suffocating memories and build a new kind of relationship.

With the decision made, the doctor advised close observation of Ye Can’s mental state for now. If no other abnormal behaviors cropped up, they could potentially maintain the status quo indefinitely.

Of course, for someone with mental fragility, the key was avoiding excessive stress.

Lin Zixi followed the doctor’s orders to the letter, always indulging Ye Can’s every whim. But deep down, she realized she held a uniquely special place for Ye Can. If anything, Ye Can obeyed her words more often.

The doctor saw that as a positive sign.

“Humans are social creatures. Even the most reclusive loner has one or two people in this world they’re tied to—or who are tied to them.”

“These could be blood relatives, or lovers.”

“Of course, there’s also the type who connects with nature, merging body and soul with the world around them. But Ye Can clearly isn’t that type. For her, being with you is a very good thing.”

“It shows that deep down, she still craves human connection. Or at least, she still finds beauty in this world.”

“When a person can still see beauty, it means they still hold onto hope. And those with hope won’t easily abandon the world.”

That conversation with the doctor still lingered in her mind. When Lin Zixi heard that Ye Can wouldn’t easily give up on the world, a strange wave of relief washed over her.

So she asked the doctor, “In a situation like this, what should I do?”

The doctor’s answer was almost mystical: “Be like an elder guiding her. Help her experience more of the world’s beauty. Walk more, see more, get close to nature, feel the kindness between people.”

“That will soothe her extremism and her resentment.”

Resentment felt like such an odd word. At least, Lin Zixi had never seen any grudge against the world in Ye Can. What flickered in her eyes was more a profound indifference.

She scorned the world, her gaze full of disdain, as if her whole body bore scars that set her apart from it all.

When she’d first appeared in this world, she couldn’t mesh with anything here. But now, she’d made real progress.

Lin Zixi sat down at her desk, opened her laptop, clicked into an encrypted folder, and pulled up a document to start typing—

【Doctor Shen:

Hope this email finds you well.

Ye Can’s condition remains stable today. She has no objections to my arrangements for work or daily life and keeps putting in solid effort. But in some ways, she’s showing changes.

Ye Can has always come off as arrogant. Aside from me, she hasn’t shown much kindness even to Ye Shen. The one time she did was half a year ago, when a girl named Liang Yu gave her a chicken drumstick, and she helped her out in return.

As you know, beyond retaliation or necessary talk, she rarely interacts with people—almost like she’s trying to minimize contact. But today at lunch, after my friend said something like, “Teacher Lin must be so happy to have you,” she actually looked at my friend properly for once and even complimented her.

She thinks having a friend like that is my good fortune. Does that mean she gets how precious that kind of bond is?

Or maybe not—she probably does value it, but she still won’t easily form connections.

Oh, right, I mentioned the mahjong before. I’ve realized she doesn’t actually enjoy it. Following your advice, I had her try other games, but she didn’t like those either, or get addicted. She doesn’t treat acting like a passion or hobby, more like a job.

But lately, I’ve noticed she’s genuinely happy playing mahjong with her colleagues. So, does that mean she’s starting to accept—and even enjoy—the ease and pleasure of human relationships?

She’s slowly integrating into this world, right?】

Lin Zixi finished typing, double-checked for typos, and hit send to Ye Can’s attending psychiatrist.

This marked the hundredth day of her correspondence with the doctor. Before this, she’d already sent over a hundred emails.

Through these daily updates, she’d witnessed, bit by bit, Ye Can’s gradual fusion with the world—and with her.

After sending the email, Lin Zixi tapped the desk and stared at the encrypted folder’s hundred-plus messages, a surreal feeling settling in.

I’ve sent so many emails to a psychiatrist. Maybe I’m the one who’s sick, not Ye Can.

Maybe Ye Can doesn’t even exist in my world. Maybe she’s just a figment of my imagination?

Otherwise, how could every part of her, every little action, hit exactly what I like?

“Because she is everything to me.”

Lin Zixi’s fingers paused over the keyboard. She leaned back in her chair, gazing at those words on the screen, falling into a long silence.

After a while, she let out a soft chuckle and saved the document.

She murmured lightly, “Whatever. Let’s just call it a confession to that little tyrant.”

Sappy words like that, she could never say to Ye Can’s face. But without a doubt, they were straight from her heart.

So there was no need to delete them.