"I’ve been wanting to do this for a while," "but since Miss didn’t instruct me, I didn’t dare to presume. I’ll have someone report in tomorrow," Yun Ya said indifferently, "Meet me by the car at JP0518 in the underground parking lot of The First People’s Hospital at noon tomorrow." After hanging up the phone, Yun Ya stood by the roadside and waited for a while, but still no taxi was in sight. She didn’t realize that there was someone trailing her from not too far behind. Yan Song pushed his bike, watching Yun Ya’s slim figure hesitating in the dark, the wind blowing up the edges of her wine-red skirt, making her appear even more unsteady—like a lotus leaf beaten by the rain drifting in the wind, causing his heart to rise and fall with the billowing skirt, unable to find any solid ground. At that moment, he was very angry, angry at her lack of trust. What exactly did she take him for? In fact, he was unwilling to admit that his greatest fear was the fear itself: She was like a wisp of smoke, standing right before you, but no matter what, you couldn’t hold on to her. That feeling of not being able to control her was unbearable, so he was afraid of hurting her, and chose to leave. He waited a long time downstairs, thinking she would come out to explain. He had already decided that he must teach her a lesson, but after a long wait, she still didn’t appear. He desperately thought, she must not have him in her heart at all. That feeling at the time was like falling into a bottomless abyss, and it was the first time he tasted heartache. Ji Yunya, I won’t bother with you anymore. Tʜe source of this ᴄontent ɪs novel★fire.net He said to himself in his heart, like a child throwing a tantrum. He waited a long time at the entrance of the neighborhood. It wasn’t safe for a girl to walk alone at night; if something happened to her, his mother would never let him off when she got back. So, it wasn’t that he was concerned about her; he was just worried about his mother’s blame. It was during this time that he calmed down and figured out a lot of things. Last night she was fine when helping him with his English, but this morning something was off. Something must have happened last night. What could have happened at his place? Yan Song suddenly recalled the time after a banquet when Yun Ya went mad and bit herself frantically. Could it have been self-inflicted? In that moment, Yan Song felt a piercing cold in his heart. He took out his phone and called Su Jun, "Hey, Eldest Young Master Yan, what made you think of calling me? The sun must have risen from the west... "Cut the crap, I just have one question for you." Su Jun sat up straight, "What is it?" Yan Song slowly rubbed his fingertip, feeling as if her soft touch was still lingering on his skin. His eyes narrowed, and his voice was low and cold. "What causes someone to self-harm?" Su Jun’s family ran a hospital, and having been exposed to medical knowledge from a young age, he was something of a small medical encyclopedia. That’s why Yan Song thought of asking him first. Su Jun chuckled, "What else could cause self-harm but psychological issues? It’s what’s commonly called mental illness. Don’t tell me, Master Yan, that you’re inclined to self-harm? That would be utterly absurd." Su Jun felt the breathing on the other end pause abruptly, sensing something was not right. He asked in a lower voice, "What’s the matter, really?" "If someone bites themselves and strangles their own neck, but otherwise acts like a normal person, what does that mean?" Su Jun frowned, "There’s a serious inclination toward self-harm; this sounds quite severe. Preliminary judgment would be schizophrenia. Is this a friend of yours? Bring them to my dad’s hospital someday. I know a neurology expert..." Su Jun hadn’t finished speaking when the call was disconnected. Schizophrenia—Yan Song furrowed his brows, how could it be ? He couldn’t imagine how such a beautiful and gentle girl could be suffering from severe schizophrenia. Just thinking about it was frightening. But his experiences left him no choice but to believe. At that moment, a slender figure walked out from the neighborhood. Yan Song watched from a dark corner as she emerged. Her chestnut hair flowed down her back, shining with the luminescence of a silvery moon under the moonlight. Her features were delicate and beautiful, as if sculpted with care by the hands of God. Yet the signature warmth in her smile was nowhere to be found. Her face was expressionless, aloof and cold, yet it bore an air of lofty disdain, stunning and frightening to behold. Yan Song’s brows tightened. The Yun Ya he remembered was always gentle. That smile had become a mask that seemed fused to her cheeks, making him almost believe that it was the truest part of her.