HL 4

What marks? He hadn’t been drinking or hooking up lately…

Suddenly realizing something, Xu Nanxiao shoved his chair back and bolted for the bathroom. Sure enough, in the mirror, he saw the hickey Lu Yingjie had mentioned.

Then he reached behind his back, yanked his T-shirt off in one motion, and stopped breathing—

There were horrifying hickeys all over his chest too!

The same man who’d just been flippantly talking about the taste of women had now been “tasted” himself.

His slightly rounded, full pecs were the hardest hit area—whoever it was seemed to have found them particularly enjoyable, sucking on them like nipples until they’d swollen to the size of mountain grapes, a whole size bigger than the other side.

But he hadn’t drunk a drop in days—let alone been picked up while blackout drunk.

Could someone have broken in while he was asleep?

Xu Nanxiao felt the space around him expanding rapidly while his own existence shrank, everything turning into a fisheye lens view.

He imagined a stranger’s tongue gliding over his skin, those hands touching him in places he didn’t know about, and he couldn’t hold it in anymore. He doubled over the sink and vomited violently.

He nearly heaved up his liver. His legs went weak, almost buckling beneath him, and he nearly collapsed onto the bathroom tiles. Lu Yingjie kept pounding on the door from outside, asking frantically what was wrong.

After what felt like an eternity, Xu Nanxiao wiped the saliva from his mouth, rinsed, and finally mustered some strength.

His jaw was clenched tight, the corners of his eyes red from vomiting—but those were definitely not tears. In the mirror, he looked like a furious leopard.

Xu Nanxiao swore he would find that hooded bastard and make him wish he were dead.

After that day, no further abnormalities appeared on Xu Nanxiao’s body, and the security camera footage showed nothing unusual.

That’s right—Xu Nanxiao never imagined he’d install cameras in his own home like some lone girl living by herself.

No matter how much he hated to admit it, an indescribable dread had taken hold of him.

He didn’t understand why chunks of his memory were missing. In what hidden corners of his life had even more disgusting things happened?

And this wasn’t even happening while he was drugged or unconscious—otherwise how could the kissing photo be explained? In that picture, he was clearly awake.

Someone had tampered with his consciousness.

His brain had been violated.

As a result, Xu Nanxiao subconsciously began to resist any state of unconsciousness. The most direct effect was severe insomnia.

He could take sleeping pills, but they affected athletes too much—his stamina plummeted, his mind felt foggy, and he had no energy. As a boxing coach, even a momentary lapse in training could lead to injury, so he quickly stopped the medication.

Weeks passed. Xu Nanxiao’s head pounded daily from lack of sleep, and finally, at Lu Yingjie’s insistence, he went to the hospital.

But after registering and hearing the psychologist’s rates, he decided he’d rather die outside than let these con artists take his money. Just as he was storming out of the consultation room toward the elevator, a familiar voice called out to him—

“Brother Yingjie?”

Xu Nanxiao turned and found none other than his brother’s professor standing behind him.

“Professor Ying, what a coincidence.” Though polite on the surface, the irritation from his insomnia made his expression sour.

Ying Yusheng didn’t seem to mind. His eyes shimmered as he looked at Xu Nanxiao, adjusting his silver-rimmed glasses. “What a coincidence. What brings you here?”

“Insomnia. Came to see a doctor.”

“Oh. How did it go?”

Xu Nanxiao said bluntly: “They wanted to charge me eight hundred an hour. I think they’re the ones who need their heads checked.”

Ying Yusheng blinked, then laughed. He paused thoughtfully for a moment before saying: “How about… I give it a try? For Yingjie’s sake, I’ll do it for free.”

“You?”

“I actually see patients at the Sixth Hospital too and provide psychological training for the doctors. Back in the States, I was even an honorary member of the NGH.”

Looking at this young man roughly his own age, Xu Nanxiao was skeptical. But since it was free, he figured he had nothing to lose.

So Ying Yusheng led Xu Nanxiao to his own psychological consultation room.

The room was exceptionally quiet—soundproofing panels seemed to have been installed, so voices were swallowed the moment they left your mouth.

“Have a seat.” From the moment he stepped into the room, Ying Yusheng’s tone shifted. It became low and soothing, as if wrapped in a warm blanket left out in the sun.

“I’ll use hypnosis to help you sleep.”

With that, Ying Yusheng turned on a record player. An unfamiliar melody filled the room—not quite music, more like some kind of white noise. As Xu Nanxiao listened, his breathing gradually slowed, and a wave of drowsiness washed over him.

“What is this?”

“Our university is collaborating with the hospital on a clinical application project for hypnosis—Yingjie is on the research team too. This special white noise is one of the results. It stimulates the brain to release alpha waves and override existing frequencies. Pretty effective, isn’t it?” Ying Yusheng said with a smile, his tone confident.

To most people, that kind of professional explanation would build trust in the therapist. But for a man like Xu Nanxiao, whose pride ran in his very veins, it made him feel patronized—and he became resistant.

“Hypnosis? Who are you kidding? This isn’t a movie.”

Ying Yusheng’s smile stayed fixed on his face like a clay mask. “You don’t believe me?”

“You can try to convince me.”

Ying Yusheng said slowly: “I was planning to take it slow, but now I’ve changed my mind.”

“Hah. Give it your best shot.”

One way to gain a client’s trust is to lower your own posture; another is to establish authority. For a troublemaker like Xu Nanxiao, the second approach might work better.

Xu Nanxiao’s vigilance was at its peak—and that was exactly what Ying Yusheng needed. Extremes reverse; a taut bow snaps easily. All it took was a gentle push to turn the force back on itself.

“Come, hold my hand.”

Xu Nanxiao hesitated, but after a moment’s thought, he reached out. The instant his hand was about to close around Ying Yusheng’s, a sudden burst of static erupted from the record player—like a popping balloon.

In that moment of divided attention from information overload, Xu Nanxiao felt the wavelength of the noise invade his brain entirely, forcibly interrupting the rational monitoring of his prefrontal cortex.

The next second, Ying Yusheng suddenly wrapped his arms around Xu Nanxiao’s shoulders, pulling him into a full embrace. But Xu Nanxiao’s body felt weak—he couldn’t struggle.

“It’s all right. You’re safe now. There’s nothing to fear.” Ying Yusheng’s voice seemed almost magical, dropping to a whisper, carrying a long, deep guide. “While you sleep, I’ll stay with you. No one will come near you.”

Would that bastard not show up here?

Could he finally sleep?

The tiny cracks in Xu Nanxiao’s conscious dam kept widening. The rigid muscles at the back of his neck visibly relaxed and sagged.

“With each inhale… you draw in… deeper darkness… with each exhale… you release… your last bit of strength.” The final three words came out as a sigh, yet carried the authority of finality. “Sleep.”

Xu Nanxiao’s shoulders collapsed. The taut lines of his back vanished completely, and he slumped downward like a sandbag losing its support.

Just before his eyelids closed completely, he felt Ying Yusheng’s strong arm steady his waist. The man looked down at him from above, a smile in his eyes that Xu Nanxiao couldn’t read.

Don’t… look at me like that.

Xu Nanxiao’s thoughts faded as his vision went dark.

After an unknown length of time, Xu Nanxiao woke with a start.

He sat up quickly, looking around in a panic. Ying Yusheng was sitting beside him, one leg crossed, an open book resting on his lap.

The curtains had been drawn at some point, leaving only a thin gap. Sunlight forced its way through the slit, casting a razor-sharp beam that perfectly enveloped Ying Yusheng.

His jet-black hair was gilded with a golden edge, making him look almost saintly.

Like a priest in a cathedral.

Startled by his own absurd thought, Xu Nanxiao frowned. Just then, Ying Yusheng noticed he was awake, closed the book, set it aside, and asked with a smile:

“Awake? How was the hypnosis?”

Ying Yusheng had asked this question before, and Xu Nanxiao had scoffed at it. But after sleeping so deeply, denying it now would just be stubbornness.

“…Not bad.”

He felt awkward saying it. His face reddened, he avoided looking at Ying Yusheng, and every word seemed squeezed through his teeth.

To most people, he looked like a leopard thumping its tail impatiently on the ground.

But Ying Yusheng thought he looked more like a cat.

No—rather, Xu Nanxiao could only be a kitten in front of him.

The feeling after hypnosis was completely different from taking sleeping pills. His body felt refreshed, as if all fatigue had been swept away—like a glass jar scrubbed clean, gleaming clear in the sunlight.

Xu Nanxiao stretched, but when he looked down, something felt off. He suspiciously tugged at the drawstring of his sweatpants.

He had a bit of OCD about this—the bow on the drawstring had to be perfectly centered. But now, it was crooked. Had he forgotten to adjust it when he’d loosened his pants earlier? Or had Ying Yusheng accidentally knocked it askew when moving him onto the couch?

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” Xu Nanxiao let go of the drawstring and ultimately didn’t dwell on it.

“By the way.” Ying Yusheng suddenly picked up his phone and leaned slightly closer to Xu Nanxiao. “Add me as a contact? If you have insomnia again, you can come to me for hypnosis.”

Honestly, Xu Nanxiao wasn’t good at handling overly familiar types like Ying Yusheng. But he did need the man, so he nodded in agreement.

“Xu Nanxiao.”

“Ying Yusheng.” After introducing himself, he smiled brightly. “Great—finally know your name.”

Watching Ying Yusheng’s happy expression, a thought suddenly struck Xu Nanxiao—

Could the hooded man be this guy? His hypnosis skills were insane—couldn’t he make people do his bidding without them even knowing?

But the timing didn’t match.

When the hooded man took those kissing photos, Xu Nanxiao hadn’t even met Ying Yusheng yet. Not to mention Ying Yusheng didn’t seem gay—but even if he were, if he could hypnotize someone into doing whatever he wanted, why would he bother showing up in person and risking suspicion?

Xu Nanxiao couldn’t come up with a single reason.

No timing, no motive.

“Hm?” Seeing Ying Yusheng’s curious look, Xu Nanxiao let out a long sigh. He pinched the bridge of his nose and temporarily set aside the absurd speculation.

Not only did Xu Nanxiao sleep well on the day of the hypnosis, but he didn’t suffer from insomnia for several days afterward.

When Lu Yingjie heard that Xu Nanxiao’s insomnia had been cured by Ying Yusheng, he was especially surprised. He asked tentatively: “Professor Ying offered to help you on his own?”

“Yeah.” Xu Nanxiao took a sip of beer.

“…I didn’t expect him to be that kind of person.”

“What do you mean?”

“Nothing, nothing.” Lu Yingjie quickly explained. “Professor Ying seems approachable, but he’s always kept to himself. I thought he was the type who’s warm on the outside but cold on the inside—the kind who keeps people at a distance.”

“Is that so?” Xu Nanxiao bit into a grilled mushroom nonchalantly. “I thought he was pretty nosy.”

Lu Yingjie composed himself, then asked: “So how did the hypnosis work?”

“I’ve been sleeping well lately. I was thinking—if it starts wearing off, I’ll go see him again.”

Lu Yingjie froze, then asked carefully: “You two already made plans for next time?”

“We exchanged contacts. He said to reach out if I need him.”

Lu Yingjie’s mood suddenly dropped. He gripped his chopsticks, head lowered, and said nothing.

“Yingjie, do you know hypnosis?” Xu Nanxiao asked suddenly.

Lu Yingjie was startled, then answered honestly: “I know the basics, but I’m definitely not as skilled as the professor. He’s incredibly good in this field.”

Xu Nanxiao had actually looked Ying Yusheng up online—the man did have real credentials. He was said to be the youngest Changjiang Scholar at P University and had helped the police solve major cases as a hypnotist. During a previous interview, his good looks had even made him briefly internet-famous.

But Xu Nanxiao just didn’t like him—especially those eyes.

“Practice hard. Once you’re good enough, hypnotize me,” Xu Nanxiao said without thinking. “That way I won’t have to go to Ying Yusheng.”

Lu Yingjie perked up immediately, smiling sweetly: “Mm!”

Hypnosis, as it turned out, wasn’t a one-time fix. Xu Nanxiao only got a week of relief before he couldn’t sleep again.

He texted Ying Yusheng, who agreed without hesitation. They set a time, the same place as last time—the psychological consultation room.

When Ying Yusheng arrived, Xu Nanxiao was already waiting outside.

Xu Nanxiao was truly strikingly handsome—tall, with great taste in clothes. His dark brown leather jacket toned down some of his wildness, making him appear more composed. Passing men and women couldn’t help but steal glances at him.

“Mr. Xu.” Ying Yusheng didn’t want to seem overly familiar and risk annoying Xu Nanxiao, so he chose this more formal address. “Sorry to keep you waiting.”

He opened the door and gestured for Xu Nanxiao to enter.

Xu Nanxiao didn’t say anything outwardly, but Ying Yusheng could clearly see that he was much more relaxed than last time—his expression and movements no longer resistant. The hypnosis had been successful; Ying Yusheng had established authority in his mind.

“Like last time, please lie down on the couch.”

“Oh.”

Xu Nanxiao lay down obediently.

“Let me go over the precautions for hypnosis. The effectiveness of the treatment depends heavily on the trust we build. Please try to keep an open mind, follow my guidance, and allow the experience to unfold naturally…”

As he spoke, Ying Yusheng’s voice gradually faded.

Xu Nanxiao sensed something was wrong and looked at the other man, only to find him staring intently—not at his face, but lower down. More precisely, at his ankles.

Xu Nanxiao looked down curiously.

He had long legs and often couldn’t find pants that fit properly—they were fine when he stood, but rode up when he lay down. Now, the hem had crept up, exposing his ankles, and…

Two deep handprints on his ankles!