Deep in the Act: Chapter 12

Fang Chi grabbed Gao Zhun’s hand and said unhappily, “So you did this to yourself?”

There was a large scrape on the knuckles of Gao Zhun’s right hand, red turning to purple. “I broke the mirror in the company restroom.”

“We have a term for that called reversal,” Fang Chi looked genuinely angry now, his gaze sharp and severe. “Someone else hurts you, and then you hurt yourself in an even worse way.”

Gao Zhun lowered his head and mumbled, “I won’t do it again.”

“Tell me about this colleague of yours.” Fang Chi let go of him and leaned back in his chair.

Gao Zhun seemed reluctant to talk about this person, his words vague. “Not a colleague. A subordinate. A young kid.”

Fang Chi raised an eyebrow. “What kind of person?”

“Studied sculpture. Very talented. His father is my business partner. Didn’t want him doing creative work, wanted him to take over the family business, so he’s been with me lately.”

Fang Chi suddenly remembered that Zuo Linlin had mentioned Gao Zhun had had a falling out with a colleague, and that there had even been a physical altercation. “Have you had friction with him before?”

Gao Zhun sighed. “Yes.”

“What happened?”

“Similar to this time,” Gao Zhun looked deeply embarrassed. “Probably… it’s my problem.”

Fang Chi wrote in his notebook: tendency toward self blame.

“Nothing specific really. It’s just… he gives me a very strong sense of pressure,” Gao Zhun clasped his hands together, his fingers twisting until they turned white. “He’s very tall, very solidly built. Sometimes he’ll suddenly put his hand on my shoulder. You know I’m afraid of being touched, especially by aggressive people like him. I told him not to touch me, but he… I feel like he doesn’t respect me.”

“How doesn’t he respect you?” Fang Chi pressed further.

“He’ll… suddenly scare me,” Gao Zhun’s face reddened, as if he didn’t want Fang Chi to see his incompetence. “He’s still young. Maybe he thinks it’s fun. But I… really can’t take it.”

Seeing Gao Zhun’s fingers digging deep into his palm, Fang Chi suddenly grew agitated, even wanting to pull his hand away. “Alright, let’s… we…” He had a moment of confusion. “Let’s try the empty chair exercise.”

He stood up, pulled his own chair over to face Gao Zhun, then stepped back a few paces, watching him from a corner a bit farther away. This seemed to help him calm down. “Try to imagine. Imagine that this subordinate is sitting in that chair right now. Say to him what you want to say.”

Gao Zhun looked somewhat bewildered, turning back to look at him repeatedly. Each glance made Fang Chi feel more agitated. “Don’t look at me,” he pointed at the chair. “Talk to ‘him.'”

“I don’t like him. I have nothing to say to him. Can I… can I just talk to you?”

Fang Chi practically forced himself to refuse. “Then tell me how much you don’t like him. The purpose of this exercise is to get you to say the things you can’t say out loud.”

“Well… Justin,” Gao Zhun steeled himself to face the empty chair. “I’ve told you before, I don’t like people touching me. Every time you put your arms around me from behind I feel very… uncomfortable. I hope you can pay attention to that from now on.”

It was definitely a superior speaking to a subordinate. For some reason, Fang Chi was already starting to hate this Justin. His mind was full of images of him crossing Gao Zhun’s boundaries, that straight set of shoulders, that slender waist, those hands flinching in fear… the kid had violated all of them… Suddenly, he realized he had lost focus, like a fresh graduate who had just started working.

Gao Zhun, meanwhile, gradually got into character. “For example, at that auction in Macau last time. I know you were very excited since it was your first time following up, but I’m your superior. You shouldn’t, and you can’t do that kind of thing. That’s why I hit you…” Once he started talking, he found he couldn’t stop at all. This process of self disclosure made him relax, even giving him a kind of liberating pleasure. “This Expressionism tour exhibition too. When I’m with you… you treat me like I’m a woman!”

“Hold on a moment,” Fang Chi interrupted him. “Why do you say you feel like a woman when you’re with him?”

Gao Zhun panicked a little. That sentence had slipped out unintentionally. “Be, because he’s so big and tall. The kind of real man my mother talked about is probably like that. He can easily lift painting frames that I can’t lift. He makes me feel very… effeminate.”

Effeminate. That was a misleading word. Fang Chi walked over. “Gao…” He almost called him Gao Zhun. “Mr. Gao, can you tell me what your definitions of male and female are?”

Gao Zhun was like a student eager to get the teacher’s praise, afraid that what he said wouldn’t be the answer Fang Chi wanted. Fang Chi noticed this, so he said, “Alright then, I have a few words here. Help me categorize them.”

The words he gave were: responsibility, strength, snow white, temptation, tears, and flame. Gao Zhun answered without hesitation. “Responsibility and strength are male. Snow white and tears are female. Flame should be male. Temptation…” He seemed to have some doubts about this word. “Is female, right?”

“There’s no right answer,” Fang Chi’s response surprised him. “Actually, this kind of binary classification is problematic in itself. Do you think women have no social responsibilities? Or that the beauty of female athletes isn’t a beauty of strength?”

Gao Zhun was stunned. Fang Chi continued, because he wanted to break Gao Zhun’s fixed values. “White men’s skin is snow white. When you think of flame, you might think of fiery red lips. As for tears, they’re not a privilege exclusive to women either.”

Gao Zhun was completely lost. Fang Chi calmly returned to his starting point. “So being ‘effeminate’ is not a man’s sin, just like left handed people don’t need to be corrected.”

A tear spilled from beneath Gao Zhun’s left eyelash, light and quick, sliding all the way down his cheek. Gao Zhun subconsciously wiped at it, only then realizing he was crying. He was somewhat flustered. “No, no, men and women are just like that. Everyone thinks so…” As he spoke, he licked his lips anxiously. “What you said might make sense, but I…” He gripped his wrist painfully. “There’s something wrong with me, otherwise I wouldn’t have that kind of dream…”

“What kind of dream did you have?” Fang Chi asked with concern.

“I…” Gao Zhun stopped.

“Was it like those dreams you had before?” Fang Chi probed indirectly.

“No, different,” he started avoiding Fang Chi’s gaze. “This dream was very… strange.”

Fang Chi sat down in the chair across from him, looking straight at him. “Can’t you tell me?”

Gao Zhun started trembling, stubbornly refusing to make a sound. Just as Fang Chi was about to give up, he suddenly said, “I dreamed I turned into a woman.”

Fang Chi frowned, but immediately composed himself. This expression couldn’t be discovered by the patient. “How do you know the you in the dream was a woman?”

“My toes hurt, because I was wearing high heels,” Gao Zhun’s entire face went pale, not daring to look at him directly. “And my voice, and…”

He bit down on his teeth. Fang Chi thought of something and made a bold guess. “Was there someone else in the dream?”

Gao Zhun looked at him in surprise, his cheeks rapidly turning red.

“Who was it? Someone from real life?” Fang Chi moved his chair closer, shortening the distance between them, so as to give the other person a sense of security.

Gao Zhun’s face went pale again. Fang Chi watched with his own eyes as the color drained from the corners of his mouth. His heart ached, and he really didn’t want to see him suffer anymore. “That person… was it me?”

Gao Zhun covered his mouth, his two eyes widening in terror and shame, like some animal under a gun, struggling in its final moments. Fang Chi already knew the answer, but the next question he had to ask. “What were we doing?”

Gao Zhun’s tears burst out like a dam breaking. “I’m… I’m sorry, I’m sorry!”

“No need to apologize,” it seemed it was exactly what Fang Chi had thought. He had encountered this kind of patient before, not a small number of them. Most of them started having this kind of dream after developing dependence on their doctor. “A lot of people are like you. It’s nothing.”

Fang Chi’s calmness made Gao Zhun relax. He asked timidly, “Really?”

“Really.” Fang Chi smiled gently. He didn’t tell him that the ones who had this kind of dream were all female patients, and most of them had suffered domestic violence or sexual assault. On this point, Fang Chi made a mental note with a question mark.

“I feel like I’m very… cheap. When I woke up I hit myself, really!” Gao Zhun was eager to express his apology to Fang Chi, leaning forward as if he were about to fall into that embrace. “Please don’t look down on me, please don’t…”

Fang Chi reached out to embrace him, but held himself back. “Do you know why you had this kind of dream?”

He thought Gao Zhun would shake his head, but unexpectedly he nodded, saying in despair, “I know.”

He thought Gao Zhun would shake his head, but unexpectedly he nodded, saying in despair, “I know.”

This meant the problem still lay in the traumatic event. Fang Chi pressed on. “You still don’t want to tell me what happened?”

Gao Zhun covered his eyes, resisting with silence. Fang Chi had no choice but to settle for the next best thing. “If saying it out loud causes you pain, you can act it out for me.”

Some PTSD patients refuse to talk, but tend to reenact their horrific experiences. He thought Gao Zhun would be willing to try, but unexpectedly his physical reaction was extremely intense, his muscles shaking so hard the chair rattled.

“Alright, alright,” Fang Chi quickly comforted him. “Or… let’s try a different approach. Can you imagine that thing one more time, and show me?”

Gao Zhun lowered his hand, looking at him with hazy eyes. Fang Chi said, “I know this is equally difficult for you, but we have to overcome it. I want you to be healthy, with only smiles and no tears.”

Gao Zhun was engaged in a fierce internal struggle. Fang Chi knew this, so he gave him an extra push. “I’ll stay with you. For me, will you try?”

Gao Zhun showed a kind of coquettish dependence, like a child afraid of getting a shot. He simply wanted to make Fang Chi happy, and nodded hesitantly. Fang Chi pointed at the large red Freudian couch in the corner. “Lying down will be more comfortable.”

Gao Zhun lay down as he said. The chair was very soft, steadily supporting his entire body, like Fang Chi’s hand, making him truly relax. Fang Chi brought over a chair. Normally sitting a meter away from the patient would be enough, but this time it was Gao Zhun, so he chose to sit close by. After thinking for a moment, he took his hand. Gao Zhun trembled, then immediately gripped back. “Don’t let go of me…” he said, making Fang Chi’s heart ache. He replied indistinctly, “I won’t let go. You… you can start now.”

Gao Zhun closed his eyes and entered his memories. Fang Chi knew nothing of that world, and could only watch him quietly, connected to him through one hand and his emotions. A pale face against the large red chair, Fang Chi suddenly realized Gao Zhun was very beautiful, long eyelashes like a girl’s, a forehead like the chill of early spring, lips like apricots… His hand tightened, Gao Zhun’s fear came through, and soon tears were sliding down the sides of his nose again, pooling in the hollows at the corners of his mouth.

What exactly had he been through? Fang Chi’s mind was a mess, unable to find a direction to break through. He thought of his timidity, his terror, his neuroticism, he thought of that dream… just now he hadn’t explored what exactly they were doing in the dream. Were they talking intimately, embracing, or kissing? Could Gao Zhun have homosexual tendencies? No, probably not… Even if he did, what did that have to do with his traumatic experience?

He couldn’t analyze any further, because Gao Zhun’s reaction was growing stronger and stronger, his hand gripping his so hard it hurt. Suddenly, as if he had been stabbed viciously, Gao Zhun sprang up from the chair, sobbing hysterically. Fang Chi glanced at his watch. Less than five minutes. This meant it was a sudden event, and it came on fast, the stimulus very strong. He supported his back, slowly rubbing it. “It’s okay. You did very well. Don’t be afraid. I’m right here.”

Gao Zhun never let go of his hand, gripping until his fingertips went numb. Fang Chi had no intention of pulling away either. He thought what Gao Zhun needed most right now was a hug, but he wanted him to ask for it himself. “Mr. Gao, do you remember the physical contact exercises we did before?” He went to wipe his tears, and Gao Zhun took that hand too, nodding into his palm. Fang Chi said, “I want you to take the initiative this time. Just a hug. Can you do it?”

Gao Zhun raised his head awkwardly, looking at him very seriously, as if trying to make out that face. Then slowly, mixed with shame and longing, he opened his arms toward him, like a baby chick with imprinting behavior, throwing itself into a safe embrace. Fang Chi hugged him back. This is a good start, he thought. Step by step like this, Gao Zhun would eventually tell him the whole story of that incident. “That’s enough for today. You did very well.”

Gao Zhun nodded along with his encouragement, and the two of them just held each other like that, as if frozen in time. When Fang Chi looked at his watch again, fifteen minutes had already passed. The session had gone over by ten minutes. Gao Zhun felt very apologetic, apologizing repeatedly. Only when he put on his coat and was about to leave did he remember. “Right, Dr. Fang, are you free this weekend?”

Fang Chi was a bit surprised. Gao Zhun normally probably didn’t invite people out much, and looked very awkward. “Linlin said she hasn’t seen you in a long time, and she wants to thank you too, to invite you out…”

Fang Chi actually had a pile of excuses waiting for him, the kind he used on Zuo Linlin, one sentence and he could brush her off. But Gao Zhun had such a humble look, talking to himself in embarrassment. “I told her you’re very busy, probably don’t have time, so…”

Fang Chi heard it. He wanted him to go, and was very afraid of being rejected. So he leaned against the edge of his desk, looking at him with a playful expression. “Sure,” he smiled, a bit dashing. “You guys set the time. Call me Friday night.”