Psychological Clinic.
Zhou Suisui sat on a white armchair.
She looked at the elegant, capable middle-aged woman across from her, who wore gold-rimmed glasses, and spoke calmly.
“Dr. Bai, I’m sure Sister Wu has already told you why I’m here today.”
Dr. Bai nodded. “Miss Zhou, you can tell me whatever is troubling you.”
Zhou Suisui pressed her lips together, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the armrest beside her.
“In what circumstances would a man treat a woman well without any conditions?”
“For example?”
Dr. Bai’s voice was gentle, carrying a quiet note of reassurance.
Zhou Suisui released her grip and relaxed her tense shoulders.
“Even when he knows she’s a bad person—when she’s done so many things to hurt him and his family—he still can’t bear to be harsh with her. He keeps indulging her, again and again… It’s as if… he doesn’t care whether she’s good or bad at all. He’s normally a very clear-headed person, but whenever he’s around her, it’s as though he loses all sense.”
Dr. Bai adjusted her glasses and looked at her gently. “Are you sure the person your brother loves is Su Wan?”
“What do you mean?”
“Or perhaps I should put it another way. Are you sure what your brother feels for Su Wan is love?”
“…”
Zhou Suisui froze.
Did her brother really love Su Wan?
And what exactly was love?
Dr. Bai slowly continued, “Recently, the matter between Eldest Young Master Zhou and Su Wan has caused quite a stir. It’s been trending repeatedly, so I happened to take notice.”
“From a psychological perspective, when a person develops an obsession with someone that goes beyond normal limits, there are generally three possible reasons.”
“First, a savior complex. He feels responsible for saving the other person. He treats her misfortune as his own responsibility and believes that he’s the only one who can help her.”
“Second, the sunk-cost effect.”
“And third—the most important reason—emotional projection.”
“Emotional projection?”
Zhou Suisui was completely confused.
Dr. Bai looked at her and asked, “Considering these three possibilities, do you still think your brother truly loves Su Wan?”
“He probably does… Otherwise, why would he…”
“No.”
Dr. Bai gently interrupted her.
“Love requires mutual reciprocity. But your brother doesn’t need anything from Su Wan in return. Even when she hurts him, he can tolerate it.”
“This isn’t love. It’s a bond that goes beyond love. He has projected some missing part of himself onto Su Wan.”
“A bond?”
“Go home and think about it carefully. Talk to your brother.”
Dr. Bai paused before adding, “Talk to him and ask whether there’s some deep-seated emotional knot that he cares about more than anything.”
“If that’s the case, he won’t be able to untangle it on his own. Just as flowers need sunlight and rain, fish need water, and people need air… Over time, he’ll come to depend on outside people and things to give himself a way to breathe.”
After leaving the psychological clinic, Zhou Suisui remained silent the entire way.
“What did the doctor say?” Jiang Ruitian asked anxiously.
“She said… my brother’s feelings for Su Wan might not be love. They might be some kind of emotional projection,” Zhou Suisui said quietly.
Jiang Ruitian seemed to think of something and let out a heavy sigh.
“Actually, Brother Sui’an has had a hard life too… Uncle and Aunt passed away so early. He was only a teenager when he had to hold the entire Zhou family together. When he was sick, he didn’t dare complain. When he was tired, there was no one he could talk to. Whatever was on his mind, he could only keep it bottled up.”
Hearing this, Zhou Suisui’s nose suddenly stung, and the ache in her heart grew even stronger.
When she returned home, the first thing she asked Cui Wu was, “Sister Wu, where’s my brother? How is he?”
“Miss, Young Master refuses to let the family doctor examine him, and he won’t let anyone near him,” Cui Wu said helplessly. “I’ve searched everywhere, but I still haven’t found him.”
When she heard that he had refused to let the doctor examine him, Zhou Suisui’s emotions, which had only just settled, began surging violently again.
She gritted her teeth in frustration. Couldn’t he listen to anyone for once?
Worried about her brother, Zhou Suisui wanted to go look for him.
But then she remembered what Dr. Bai had said. After a moment of silence, she turned and went upstairs instead.
Back in her room, she began searching frantically through the bed and cabinets.
Where was the key to the attic?
The key her brother had forcibly pressed into her hand that day… Where had she put it?
Zhou Suisui anxiously ran her fingers through her hair.
She forced herself to calm down and carefully retraced what had happened that morning.
That’s right—the space beneath the bed.
She crouched down, lifted the edge of the bedsheet, and struggled to reach underneath.
Sure enough, the key was lying quietly beneath the bed.
She had found it.
She picked up the key, left the room, and headed straight for the attic on the top floor.
As far back as she could remember, she had never once been here.
The servants in the house had forbidden her from coming upstairs, and her brother had always stopped her from entering this part of the house.
There was only one key to the attic.
Ever since she was little, the attic door had remained locked, and the key had always been in her brother’s possession.
She had once been curious about it.
But every time, her brother would become angry and forbid her from coming up, no matter what.
Only occasionally, during their conversations, would he mention in passing that before she turned three, she had loved playing hide-and-seek in the attic.
But who could remember anything from before the age of three?
Click.
The lock opened.
Zhou Suisui pushed the door open, a flicker of surprise crossing her eyes.
She had assumed that, after being left unopened for so long, the attic would be a mess, covered in dust.
But the reality was precisely the opposite.
The attic was spacious and filled with all kinds of things, yet everything was spotless.
Every item had been arranged neatly, without a speck of dust anywhere.
Standing in the doorway, she felt a strange sense of unfamiliarity rise within her.
This was clearly her own home, yet she couldn’t find even the faintest memory of this place.
She slowly walked farther inside, her attention drawn to something hanging beside the window in the distance.
It was a huge wedding photograph.
Her heart suddenly began to race, and without realizing it, she lightened her steps as she approached the photograph inch by inch.
Ever since her parents’ deaths, her brother had sealed away everything related to them.
He had stored it all in the attic.
Only now did she realize that she could no longer remember what her parents looked like.
All she could recall was a vague, indistinct impression.
Her father had broad shoulders and loved to carry her on his back, pretending they were riding horses.
Her mother would sit quietly nearby, watching them play, her face filled with a blissful smile.
Unease, nervousness, and a faint, inexplicable anticipation intertwined in Zhou Suisui’s heart.
At last, she stopped in front of the photograph.
She reached out and gently touched the gentle-eyed man in the picture.
So… this was my father.
She and her brother really did look like him. They were practically identical.
The corners of her lips lifted, but tears fell first.
Then her gaze slowly shifted to the woman sitting beside him on a white European-style chair.
The smile on her face instantly froze.
She stared blankly at the woman in the photograph.
It felt as though all the blood in her body had frozen in that moment.
Dr. Bai’s words echoed over and over in her mind.
This isn’t love. It’s emotional projection.
He has projected some missing part of himself onto Su Wan.
Suddenly, the wind blew in through the window, carrying the sound of a faint sob.
Zhou Suisui turned around in shock.
When she saw the figure curled up in the corner, her heart was crushed into a mangled mess.
“Brother…”
The tears broke free in an instant, spilling from her eyes.
The attic was utterly silent. The old wall clock ticked steadily onward.
Only her brother’s stifled sobs remained, like the mournful cries of a wounded little animal.
