When the Water Marks Are Still Wet

The scene of her mother's suicide in the bathtub is an ice pick wedged into Li Yan's bone marrow. The funeral was hasty, and the father's response was only silence and a business card - Mo Yu, an authoritative psychologist in the provincial capital. The calculating father regards money as a master key, and his daughter's "heart problems" can only be solved with money. He even refuses to show up and only relies on his housekeeper's phone to learn about "progress." Mo Yu had an assistant whose eyes were like a clammy snake, sliding past Li Yan with a sticky and scrutinizing look. Li Yan tried her best to prove that she was "normal": "You are too self-righteous. What do you say? My dad listens to you. You all want to force me to death, don't you!" Li Yan completely lost control of her emotions. "I'm not sick, I'm not crazy. How many times do I have to tell you all day long before you believe it! You spy on me, you usurp my memory, you are a monster!" His father rushed into the house, dragged the roaring Li Yan out of the house, and stuffed her into the back seat of the parked car. The engine roared, and Li Yan became quiet, without any expression or movement. The car window reflected his father's indifferent profile like an ice sculpture, and his cold promise: "I will take you home when you have recovered from your illness and are no longer crazy." Her father rarely came to visit her at Baita Hospital. For five years, he made an unforgettable confirmation: She and her mother in the bathtub were of the same type. In despair and pain, Li Yan split out a second personality, which is the homophone of Song Ye, Song Ye. Song Ye's voice was wrapped in a palpitating, sweet and fragile sense of attachment, gently shaking her crumbling rational defense line: "Yanyan, if I really didn't exist in this world, would you come to me?"