Yue Wuhuan had a long history of self-harm attempts and his psychological state was severely compromised, prone to uncontrollable outbursts. Thus, promises should be taken with caution.
The Bonding Mark could prevent self-harm, but activating it required the use of a spiritual bead, which would only worsen Yue Wuhuan's psychological state and make him even more distrustful of treatment. It was the worst method for preventing self-harm.
Without hesitation, Song Qingshi eliminated the option of using the Bonding Mark. Other magical methods with similar effects were designed for tormenting enemies and were not significantly different. Song Qingshi had considered other means to treat psychological distress, such as hypnosis or erasing traumatic memories. However, hypnosis had its limitations, and erasing memories could harm the spirit. Yue Wuhuan had been taken under Xie Que's wing at the age of eight; the amount of memory that would need erasing was too great, and there was a high risk of causing irreversible damage.
After ruling out all unsuitable options, the only answer left was modern psychology.
The subject Song Qingshi was least proficient in was psychology. It wasn't that his academic scores were poor, but psychology required deep emotional engagement and internal analysis with the patient. He could barely handle his own social anxiety, much less manage a high-difficulty case like Yue Wuhuan.
The overachieving Song was once again gripped by the fear of an insurmountable problem, even dreaming of failing the subject.
He promptly removed all items that Yue Wuhuan could use for self-harm from his chamber and scanned Yue Wuhuan's vital signs multiple times daily using his spiritual sense. It wasn't until he noticed Yue Wuhuan staring blankly at the koi pond one day that he decided to take a leap of faith.
And so, the unreliable psychologist Song was forced into operation...
Song Qingshi meticulously formulated a treatment plan. He added calming herbs to Yue Wuhuan's medicinal decoctions and used soothing incense to aid sleep at night, substantially reducing the frequency with which Yue was jolted awake by nightmares. Among the few psychological treatment methods he knew, he ruled out those that were inappropriate or unattainable, ultimately deciding to try Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy.
Rational Emotive Behavior Therapy, a cognitive therapy created by Dr. Albert Ellis in the 1950s, emphasizes the role of individual will and rationality. The first step is to establish a strong working relationship with the patient to instill self-confidence. Then the therapy aims to dispel the patient's misguided self-perceptions, encouraging a more accurate self-understanding and a return to a healthy life.
The theory sounds simple, but implementation is an uphill battle.
Song Qingshi's favorite way to relieve stress is through studying and problem-solving. After racking his brain for a long time, he found inspiration from his own encounters in the library, where he had been approached by girls. He decided to pick a challenging book, pretend he couldn't understand it, and ask Yue Wuhuan for help. Upon receiving an "I don't know" as an answer, he could then naturally invite Yue to join him in searching for the answer in the library, all while subtly encouraging him to find joy in acquiring knowledge and building self-confidence.
There was once a girl who persistently tried to chat up Song Qingshi. He encouraged her to focus on her studies, instructing her on exercises and test-taking. Her grades improved dramatically, and she was accepted into a prestigious graduate program. During her graduation ceremony, she cried, thanking Song Qingshi for curing her of her infatuation.
Infatuation is a form of psychological disorder, right?
Thinking of this accidentally successful case, Song Qingshi felt a surge of confidence.
...
His original self was a bookworm. The library of the Valley of the Medicine King housed tens of thousands of books, mostly related to medicine and poisons.
Afraid that picking a professional text would reveal his intentions, Song Qingshi carefully selected a book called "Chronicles of the Jade Terrace," a travelogue of the immortal realms, from a dusty corner.
The travelogue was written thousands of years ago by a celestial scholar from the Confucian school and depicted a certain celestial realm. Given his preference for rationality over romanticism, and a lack of interest in poetry and literature, Song Qingshi found the text baffling.
Yue Wuhuan had completed his five medicinal baths, dispelling the residual medicinal effects in his body, and was currently recuperating while waiting for the future Six Pulse Reviving Soup treatment.
Convinced that Song Qingshi had no designs on his body, Yue Wuhuan dropped the coquettish act. He bundled up his hair with a green jade crown, wore a simple blue robe, and locked the collar high around his neck, revealing nothing suggestive. He seemed like a rigid ascetic, allowing no room for emotion.
Even though Song Qingshi had declined his use of the term "servant" to refer to himself, all he received from Yue Wuhuan were monosyllabic responses like "Yes," or "Alright." Song Qingshi, clutching the book, watched him from a corner for a long time. He feared both Yue Wuhuan's overt sensuality and his genuine coldness, more so the possibility of rejection.
Here he was, trying to provide psychological treatment, yet he'd handed over a book full of inappropriate content to a patient who had a psychological trauma related to it—a massive blunder.
Both regretful and embarrassed, Song Qingshi's ears reddened. He wanted to cry but couldn't.
Yue Wuhuan was the first to recover. Noticing the expression on Song's face, he realized it was a misunderstanding and offered consolation, "The majority of the celestial scholar's works are about landscapes. This is an exception. If you're interested in his style, you might enjoy 'Tales of the Sea Pearl Pavilion,' 'Secret Realms of a Thousand Mountains,' or 'The Endless Sea'."
Song Qingshi nodded gratefully, storing the recommendation.
Another awkward silence ensued, lasting a full two minutes.
Song Qingshi knew he couldn't let the silence drag on. Trying to find a silver lining in the awkward moment, he initiated small talk, "What is 'Tales of the Sea Pearl Pavilion' about? I've never heard of it, but it sounds interesting. Would you mind telling me?"
Yue Wuhuan paused for a moment, unsure how to describe it, and then recited the entire piece for him.
Although Song Qingshi was not particularly skilled in poetry and prose, he wasn't a fool either. After listening, he realized that the so-called celestial scholar was merely a pedant who used flowery language and obscure references to feign depth, ultimately creating empty and tedious literature.
Yue Wuhuan respectfully asked, "Would you like to hear more?"
Song Qingshi suddenly felt something was amiss. While he prided himself on his intelligence and memory, it was limited to well-written texts and had to be deliberately committed to memory. Who would bother memorizing such drivel? And recalling it flawlessly, understanding every subtle reference? He cautiously asked Yue Wuhuan, "Have you read many books? Where did you read them?"
"I was tutored by the Grand Tutor in my youth and read some books with Xie Que," Yue Wuhuan answered honestly, assuming that Song was probing into his past. "Mostly, I read them in the Golden Phoenix Manor. After satisfying the Manor's master, I would ask for permission to enter the library. Rest assured, I only read miscellaneous books, not daring to touch the sacred texts."
The library at the Golden Phoenix Manor was extensive. Yue Wuhuan had hoped to find a way to free himself from the books, but the Manor's strict rules prevented him from reading any sacred texts. He had once bribed the library's caretaker with his body to get hold of a couple of low-level sacred books but found no way to use them.
Song Qingshi knew the scale of the Golden Phoenix Manor's library, which far exceeded that of the Valley of the Medicine King. Even the miscellaneous section had tens of thousands of books.
Song Qingshi urgently inquired, "Do you remember all those books? Can you recite them?"
"I remember the books I've read, roughly over ten thousand volumes. If you require, I could recite them," Yue Wuhuan hesitated.
Song Qingshi drew a sharp breath, feeling his throat tighten. Casting aside his therapy plans, he hastily gathered various pens, inks, and rulers. He then recreated several intelligence tests he had taken before and had Yue Wuhuan complete them.
Initially puzzled by the strange shapes and questions, Yue Wuhuan quickly got the hang of it after Song's guidance. He finished the test effortlessly, handing it back promptly.
After tallying the score, Song Qingshi felt like he was suffocating. He had barely qualified for a high IQ society, relying on hard work to make up for his shortcomings. But Yue Wuhuan's offhand score was 162, tying with historical records and entering the realm of extraordinary genius. Considering different worldviews and educational backgrounds, the score could be even higher. The devastation and anger that Song Qingshi felt were immeasurable—how could such a potential history-making genius be reduced to this state? It was an affront to human dignity.
Yue Wuhuan looked puzzled at the tear in the corner of Song Qingshi's eye, unsure why it had appeared.
Hastily wiping away his embarrassing tears, Song Qingshi told him solemnly, "Wuhuan, you are incredibly intelligent."
"Master, it has no significance," Yue Wuhuan slowly regained his composure and lowered his gaze, thinking sarcastically that no one cared whether he was intelligent or not; they only cared about his performance in bed.
The corner of his mouth curled into a derisive smile, his eyes revealing countless hidden malice. This so-called intelligence only made him endure more pain than others. "This is the immortal realm—a world of beasts where the strong prey upon the weak."