"Hey, Mind Mentor, it's me—Life Mentor." Jack Young had his earbuds in, calling for backup: "If you're free right now, I want to consult you about something. If you're busy—I'll give you a minute to ditch your work, then I'll ask."
"You really just say whatever comes to mind! Fine, go ahead—what's up? You sound pretty troubled."
"Well, it's kind of complicated if I explain everything, but to sum it up in one sentence—" Jack Young took a deep breath, bracing himself to admit his flaw: "Lately, I feel like I've suddenly become kinda dumb-cute."
"What? Dumb-cute? Even if you add a couple extra 'cute' to it, that doesn't hide anything!" Senior Brother Mentor was curious now. "What's going on? Your brain suddenly stopped working?"
"Yeah, it's exactly that—my brain just stopped working out of nowhere." Jack Young gave a wry smile. "Lately, with a lot of stuff going on, anyone with normal IQ and no brain issues can see it clear as day. But me? I just ignore it. I mean, I'm not a genius or anything, but I don't have any major brain damage. Still, for some reason, sometimes I get this feeling like, 'I'm right in the middle of it, but can't see the big picture.' It's like my head is full of fog, and my brain's turned into mush."
"Huh?!" Senior Brother Mentor was totally intrigued. "Hold on, let me get set up!" He ran off to tell his assistant something, then picked up the phone again. Jack Young could hear Senior Brother Mentor grabbing pen and paper—he was getting serious. "Alright, I'm back, let's get started for real. With your mental strength, you should be sharp and quick-thinking. How come you're all mush? When did this start? How often does it happen?"
"It started when I unlocked the password lock in my Mindscape World."
"Oh! You managed to open that big door?" Senior Brother Mentor pressed. "What was inside?"
"Inside was an elevator, going all the way down. Each floor was a different scene, with different people acting out different stories. Every time I finished watching a story, I'd recover a piece of memory." Jack Young thought for a moment. "And that 'brain-mush' feeling? It always happens when I recover a bunch of memories at once. It's like... I suddenly become my old self again."
"Become your old self again?" Senior Brother Mentor drew an elevator on his paper, then divided it into lots of floors. "You mean your behavior, thinking, and feelings all revert to how you used to be?"
"Yeah, I know what you're getting at, and it's not like I'm trying to run away from my past. But what I really want to know is—why did I suddenly turn into such a dork? That's the real problem! All the theory in the world isn't going to help if you can't answer that!"
"Actually, for your situation, being a dork is perfectly normal." Senior Brother Mentor's voice was full of barely concealed laughter. "By the way, how much time did you lose to your amnesia?"
"A year or so."
"A year?! You might want to brace yourself then. Right now it's just occasional dorkiness, but soon it might go full-blown!" Senior Brother Mentor sounded like he was enjoying the drama. "Think about it—you've only lived twenty-six years. Take away the clueless toddler years, the wild brat years, the cringey teen phase, and your current personality is only about ten years old. If you erase a tenth of your 'cause,' it wouldn't surprise me at all if you suddenly stripped naked and ran through downtown Chongqing. The fact you're still talking to me like a normal person is honestly impressive!"
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"Hey, hey, hey, it's not like I lost a whole year's worth of memories! Just a small chunk, okay?" Jack Young protested immediately.
"Even if a CD is missing just one piece, it still won't play! And honestly..." Senior Brother Mentor paused. "I'd rather you forgot the whole year, honestly."
"Why?" Jack Young asked, surprised.
"Because a year is a long time, with all kinds of ups and downs. It's like a bowl of weird noodles—every flavor mixed together. That's called 'emotional dilution.' When you get those memories back, it's like eating those noodles again. Even if there's some nasty stuff mixed in, you can handle it. But..." Senior Brother Mentor's tone grew serious. "The more precise you are about what you forget, the nastier it'll taste when you remember."
Jack Young thought for a moment. "So what you're saying is, the reason I'm acting like such a dork is because, even if I was only occasionally dumb before, now all those dumb moments are being replayed together in a highlight reel? No wonder—in the memories I do have, I was sharp and capable at work two years ago, not this level of double-dumb."
"Exactly! That's the idea. If you eat salt a hundred times, it's fine. But if you eat all that salt at once—you're dead. If that's true for salt, imagine how it is with bitterness. Given your usual stability and complete personality, I wouldn't worry about your mental health. But when a whole year's worth of memories and feelings come flooding back all at once, it causes a 'reverse projection' effect. You'll end up reliving the past, and however dumb you were back then, you'll be just as dumb now. And because it all hits you at once, it's way more intense. You should be ready for that."
"Oh, man..." Jack Young deflated. Anyone hearing they might be headed for peak brainlessness wouldn't be too cheerful: "Is there any way to fix it, Master?"
"Honestly, there's not much I can do. I can only give you some basics—the rest is up to you." Senior Brother Mentor kept it short, knowing Jack Young didn't need a lecture. The mind is subtle and mysterious. If Jack Young can figure it out on his own, he'll get it eventually. If not, nothing anyone says will help. "Basically, psychogenic amnesia usually comes back in waves, starting shallow and getting deeper. Like your Mindscape Elevator—first you remember what you want to remember, then you go deeper into what you don't want to remember."
"So the real show's still ahead?"
"Yeah, so like I said—hang in there."
Well, Jack Young nearly blew a fuse. Seriously, Senior Brother Mentor had just talked his ear off and didn't give him a single useful suggestion. Still, Jack wasn't totally hopeless. No matter what the problem, there's always a positive and a negative way to look at it. Even in the face of a terminal illness, the optimist always has a better shot than the pessimist.
Bottom line: Never back down from your cringe-worthy past! Same goes for any enemy—when two meet on a narrow road, the brave one wins. Especially when the enemy is inside your own head, you’ve got to fight with all you’ve got!
"Hey, by the way, is someone playing music over there?" Senior Brother Mentor switched gears to small talk. "I can hear Chopin piano music, and whoever’s playing is pretty legit."
"You know music?" Jack Young perked up. "Are you for real, or just pretending? You’re not faking it, are you?"
"Isn’t that Chopin’s Etude, OP10-NO.4? Music is a friend of the soul, and psychologists are supposed to be super cultured, right? How could I not know? Whoever’s playing over there sounds pretty good. Go on, find out which maestro’s performing—I might buy the CD later."
"Maestro? Hahaha, you flatter me! That’s me playing." That’s right—Jack Young had been casually playing piano while chatting on the phone.
"You can play piano like that while talking on the phone?! Holy crap, you’re a legend!" Senior Brother Mentor couldn’t help but curse in awe from the other end.
Jack Young was about to say something modest when the front door rattled open—a key turning in the lock. It wasn’t just Jill coming in, but also a bespectacled, bookish-looking middle-aged man, probably in his fifties. The refined uncle stared straight at Jack Young, dumbfounded. Jack kept playing, smiled and nodded, then said to Senior Brother Mentor, "Alright, that’s enough for today. I’m hanging up."
Beep. Jack Young hung up, and throughout the whole thing, the music never stopped, not a single note missed or a beat out of place.
The whole scene seemed to have startled the uncle. After a long, deep breath, he blurted out the same thing Senior Brother Mentor had said: "You can play piano like that while talking on the phone?!"
He strode over, first checking Jack Young’s shoulder: "Good!"
Then he inspected Jack Young’s arm: "Good!"
Finally, he grabbed Jack Young’s hands and stared at them: "Good, good, good! Absolutely fantastic!"
With that, the uncle suddenly reached out and clapped Jack Young on the shoulder, his glasses practically sparkling: "Young man! Would you like to join our orchestra? The future of Chinese music depends on you!" And with that, he kept slapping Jack Young’s shoulder enthusiastically.
Jack Young, after a moment of stunned silence, did what any normal person would do when confronted with such a wild turn of events—he widened his eyes, dropped his jaw, and let out a sound: "Huh??"
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