Chapter 31 Extra

Hu Yi was a seasoned psychotherapist.

Lately, he had been handling a particularly difficult case—a patient with years of dissociative amnesia, accompanied by severe depression. The patient held a prominent identity, and like most wealthy and powerful elites, was highly resistant to psychological treatment.

By the time he was finally forced to seek help, his physical and mental state had deteriorated to the point where his life was in imminent danger. The team had tried medication, but with little effect; multiple therapy sessions failed to pinpoint the root cause.

The patient was transferred to Hu Yi and recommended for hypnotherapy.

Initially, the patient was against this treatment method. Hypnosis required mutual trust between hypnotist and subject, and full cooperation from the latter. During earlier consultations, the patient exhibited numerous negative psychological defense mechanisms, suggesting he might not be suitable for hypnosis.

But hypnosis wasn’t a backup option—it was the only method left that might break the bottleneck, given the failure of all other treatments.

The doctors still hadn’t identified the root cause, which was key to curing the illness.

Hu Yi explained to the patient, “Treatments like Cognitive Behavioral Therapy, Trauma Therapy, and psychoanalysis are all causal in nature. In other words, we need to know the cause before we can address the consequences.”

After careful consideration, the patient wavered. “The cause… So, the things I can’t remember—hypnosis can help find them?”

Hu Yi nodded. “Hypnosis allows us to enter your subconscious. The things you can’t recall consciously are veiled by the illness. Though you can’t remember them in reality, they still exist in your subconscious world.”

“After hypnosis, you and I will go into the subconscious world and ask about all the things I’ve forgotten?”

“It’s not that simple,” Hu Yi didn’t want to overpromise. “The subconscious is a state not yet perceived by consciousness. Even in successful hypnosis, your subconscious acts within that dimension—you won’t know you’re being hypnotized; and in reality, you and I can’t talk directly to ‘him.’ How much useful information we retrieve, what results we achieve—none of this can be guaranteed. There’s also the possibility of unsuccessful hypnosis, or unexpected events in the subconscious…”

The patient interrupted, “More often a failure than success?”

“With the hospital’s current evaluation—yes. So whether to accept hypnotherapy is ultimately up to you.”

Seeing his hesitation, Hu Yi couldn’t help adding one more point of persuasion.

“The goal of hypnosis isn’t just to find the root of the illness. Through memory tracing, I can also help you lessen the trauma and amplify the joyful parts, reducing depressive emotion.”

The session ended there.

Hu Yi said goodbye, emphasizing, “See you next time.”

He sincerely hoped the patient would accept treatment.

Both of them knew—if he gave up, in his condition, it meant he was giving up on life.

A week later.

The patient returned to the hospital and told Hu Yi he was willing to be hypnotized.

Thus, the treatment officially began.

The subconscious was a deeply mysterious realm.

Some said dreams were connected to it. Others said the soul linked to it.

A hypnotist, through hypnosis, opened a path to the patient’s subconscious. The patient’s soul—or rather, their “consciousness”—took on a form in that world chosen by the patient themselves.

That consciousness could be guided by the hypnotist, as though held by an invisible thread.

But the thread wasn’t entirely secure. The consciousness could break free from the hypnotist’s control.

To prevent the patient’s consciousness from becoming lost, Hu Yi established two awakening methods at the outset.

Method One: Light-triggered awakening. When the patient’s subconscious encountered strong light, it signaled the end of hypnosis. This was the standard method.

Method Two: Special awakening. If the standard method failed, Hu Yi had created a backdoor in the subconscious. He would guide the patient to a “safe house” in the subconscious—a final refuge the patient named and built himself, where the hypnotist stored their therapy data.

When the “consciousness” saw that data, it would recognize the truth of the world and awaken. Like someone lost in a surreal nightmare who suddenly realizes it’s just a dream—everything becomes clear.

This treatment proved more difficult than any Hu Yi had ever handled.

The patient’s illness was long-standing. His subconscious was bizarre. Even when hypnosis succeeded, no useful information was found.

If the trauma wasn’t in the subconscious, they would need to go deeper—into the unconscious.

That would make hypnotherapy vastly more complex.

In reality, the patient and therapist existed in the same world. In the subconscious, the patient was tethered by a thread to the therapist. If the patient lost direction, the therapist could gently pull on the thread.

But in the unconscious, the thread couldn’t reach. The therapist could no longer intervene—it was up to the patient alone.

Greater risk, greater difficulty.

The patient chose to trust him, chose to continue treatment, so Hu Yi didn’t give up.

He spent a long time analyzing the patient’s blank memories and possible trauma, organizing and categorizing them from prior sessions.

With Hu Yi’s help, they manifested in the subconscious as various “rooms.”

Unfortunately, this led to a new problem.

The patient took the form of a rabbit in the subconscious. The rabbit refused to approach the rooms containing trauma. It viewed all rooms as “locked.”

Hu Yi tried to create a guide to lead the rabbit, but the rabbit couldn’t trust this virtual guide. The distrust triggered rejection responses that repeatedly interrupted hypnosis—let alone going deeper into the rooms.

At this point, the therapy was going nowhere.

Meanwhile, the patient’s symptoms visibly worsened.

Then came a miracle during the 23rd hypnotherapy session—Hu Yi was surprised to find the patient had created a new guide.

The new guide wasn’t controllable, didn’t respond to Hu Yi’s instructions, and led the patient’s consciousness on its own. Hu Yi immediately realized the danger and ended the session with strong light.

The awakened patient described the experience as “relaxing and pleasant.”

Though he couldn’t recount the specifics of that world, the positive feedback was unprecedented.

With that encouragement, therapy had reason to continue.

Hu Yi cautiously proceeded with the next session—and something went terribly wrong.

The patient’s consciousness was led into a room by the new guide and stopped responding to Hu Yi. That part was expected. What wasn’t expected was that the silence lasted an entire week.

His consciousness drifted in the unconscious. His body survived on IV nutrients… In layman’s terms, he became a living dead—brain active, but no control over his body.

During that week, Hu Yi endured unimaginable stress.

In his entire career, he’d never seen anything like it. The potential consequences were terrifying.

The patient could die at any moment due to brain death or organ failure.

He had severe mental illness. Without the hypnotist’s guidance, he couldn’t avoid subconscious and unconscious trauma. Even if he woke, he might fall into complete psychosis.

All Hu Yi could do was attempt strong light awakenings on a regular schedule, hoping the patient would respond.

Both were lucky.

On the eighth day, the patient awakened.

This awakening had nothing to do with Hu Yi’s skill—it was pure luck. The consciousness happened to be in the subconscious at that moment, so the method worked.

And the feared aftereffects never materialized.

In the post-awakening consultation, the results of hypnosis showed: the patient could recall painful memories from childhood, adolescence, and youth. His joyful memories had been strengthened, and the traumas had been reduced.

He requested to continue treatment.

Hu Yi judged the risk too great and strongly advised against it, but the patient insisted.

To ensure safety, Hu Yi focused on the new guide during the next session.

Strangely, at first, the new guide didn’t appear. The rabbit, as before, refused to approach the remaining two rooms.

Just as Hu Yi was about to end the session, the guide suddenly appeared.

Before Hu Yi could issue any commands, the guide’s actions triggered the patient’s pain.

Sitting in the therapy chair, the patient’s upper body convulsed violently.

Since his consciousness hadn’t yet reached the unconscious, Hu Yi quickly spoke to him to calm him.

“Adjust your breathing. Deep breaths. Whatever you’re seeing—stop.”

The patient’s hands clenched as if holding something, muttering the word “photo.”

“Repeat after me. Begin now,” Hu Yi told him. “Deep breaths. Put the photo down.”

After adjusting his breath three times, the trembling stopped.

Hu Yi immediately triggered strong light—but it failed.

That meant the patient had again entered the unconscious.

For the first time, Hu Yi realized the new guide might not be “good.”

The subconscious figure created by the patient could be good or evil. Until now, the guide had seemed helpful. But this time’s stress response suggested it might be harmful.

Hu Yi repeatedly triggered strong light.

The situation worsened.

Hours later, he noticed the patient responding to instructions—but the light still didn’t wake him.

This meant he was back in the subconscious but disoriented, lost. The new guide now seemed far more likely to be malicious.

So he asked, “Who’s with you?”

The patient shook his head, lips clamped shut.

“Relax. Try to feel—judge whether it’s kind or hostile.”

The patient seemed to be on guard.

Hu Yi gently said, “Yin Xian, you don’t need to talk to it. Just answer me.”

“It’s kind. It means no harm,” the patient replied.

“You’re sure?”

“I’m sure.”

Hu Yi’s priority was to end the hypnosis.

“You must leave Little Rabbit Island immediately.”

“I can’t help you. You’re on your own. If you don’t go now, your consciousness will be trapped in the subconscious forever.”

He repeated the backup awakening plan, word for word.

“Remember what we agreed on? In the nightmare you can’t wake from—go to the safe house and find the paper you left there.”

The patient murmured a girl’s name—likely that of the suspicious new guide.

Hu Yi noted the name and quickly resumed the awakening attempt.

“Hide. Go to the safe house. Remember—don’t give her the paper in the safe house.”

For some reason, this command heightened the patient’s stress.

He began convulsing again and no longer responded to the light or instructions.

Once more, he fell into the unconscious world.