Deep in the Act: Chapter 2

Fang Chi set down the phone, feeling a bit tightness in his chest, so he took off his glasses, stood up, and opened the large south window of his consultation room to let the cool breeze in. The call had been from Zuo Linlin. She was a ballet dancer with bright spirited phoenix eyes. She liked to smile and had a dimple. She was tall and thin, well matched with him. Her skin was fair and her long hair always carried the scent of citrus or mint.

Fang Chi furrowed his brows. She was his ex girlfriend.

They had met in America and dated for over a year. For him this absolutely counted as a marathon. They had skied in Colorado, sunbathed in Florida, ridden horses in Texas, until he returned to China for her…

Someone knocked on the door. It was Secretary Feng, speaking in a gentle yet cold voice: “Dr. Fang.”

“Come in.” He turned back.

Secretary Feng twisted the door open, wearing a water blue dress: “The 3 o’clock appointment is here, Mr. Lin Guoqiang.”

Fang Chi nodded: “Have him wait ten minutes.”

He was very tired. He closed the window and walked back to his desk. Beside the phone lay a piece of paper covered with details Zuo Linlin had mentioned. Right in the middle was a name circled in red: Gao Zhun.

Her current man. Fang Chi put his glasses back on, his two fists pressed against his chin, recalling her complaints on the phone: “He’s not that kind of person. He’s very… very gentle, very sensitive, very… artistic, I mean, he’s a refined person…”

“Mm hmm,” Fang Chi didn’t want to hear about that person’s good qualities at all: “What do you think his problem is?”

“He doesn’t sleep.”

Fang Chi tore off a sticky note: “Do you know the reason?”

“He seems to be afraid of the dark. Sometimes he has nightmares too.”

“And?”

“He suddenly stopped driving. He won’t even go to parking lots.”

Car, Fang Chi put a star on the paper: “Had an accident?”

“No, he won’t go shopping with me, won’t go to movies, he frequently breaks cups, spaces out watching TV…”

“How long has he been like this?”

“Over a month. Charles, I really had no choice, otherwise I wouldn’t have called you…” Her voice trembled, seeming to cry: “I want to make it work with him, really. I’m willing to try anything!”

Fang Chi grew irritated: “What else?”

The other end of the phone went quiet for a moment, then said: “He drinks. Maybe also… I found a bottle of sleeping pills in the liquor cabinet this morning. A third of it was gone.”

“He didn’t drink before?”

“A little, red wine, about one bottle every two months. After finding the sleeping pills I checked the liquor cabinet. It was full, all new bottles.”

Alcohol abuse, drug dependence. Fang Chi stopped writing, a thought flashing through his mind: “How is your relationship,” asking this was merely to satisfy his own nasty curiosity: “in all aspects.”

“We… we’re okay. He comes home after work. We talk, cook together,” she hesitated for a while, finally getting to the part Fang Chi was interested in: “…I asked, but he didn’t respond.”

Not active sexually, Fang Chi drew two heavy horizontal lines below: “What about friendships?”

“In his line of work, at his level, there aren’t any real friends, but…”

Zuo Linlin said that two days ago he had had an unpleasant incident with a colleague, and it got physical. Aggressive behavior? Fang Chi put a question mark, then asked about his parents. He was from a single parent family, raised by his mother since childhood. Smart, everything had gone smoothly for him.

“Charles, preferably today. I’ll have him come see you.”

Fang Chi pressed his lips together, smoothing the curls at his forehead: “My last appointment is at two thirty. Have him come after four.”

The first call after three years of breakup ended just like that. Fang Chi felt very uncomfortable in his heart. This was jealousy, a negative emotion. He knew. This was what he treated. A psychologist. In the most bustling district of Shanghai, he had a two hundred square meter consultation room, a Freudian style recliner, a secretary with no expression, and a pile of patients he couldn’t get through.

Knock knock knock, Secretary Feng knocked again: “Dr. Fang, shall I show Mr. Lin in?”

Fang Chi lifted his gaze from the sticky note, sweeping across the bright, somewhat neurotic white walls, and the slogan on the wall “Change the world, start by changing yourself.” With his habitual evaluative expression, he slowly looked toward the door: “Please come in.”

Marital relationships, social disorders, depression, Fang Chi dealt with these people all day. When the last patient wiped away tears and left the consultation room, it was three forty two. He took off his glasses and rubbed his eyes, looking at the wall clock. Outside the door, Secretary Feng’s high heels clicked toward the main entrance. Clearly the person had arrived. Gao Zhun. This was the person Zuo Linlin had broken up with him for.

Arriving more than fifteen minutes early indicated he was a careful and meticulous person, possibly type A blood. Fang Chi briefly listed an outline of questions. By the time he reached the fifth point, Secretary Feng outside suddenly laughed lightly, that kind of cheerful laugh. She wasn’t married yet, Fang Chi thought. This was normal. He continued writing questions. After only two more, he put down his pen, unable to continue.

He didn’t want to give this Gao Zhun any consultation at all. Alcohol abuse, insomnia, distracted, he deserved to have problems! He was trying hard to control his emotions when Secretary Feng knocked: “Dr. Fang, Mr. Gao is here.”

Fang Chi was impatient: “The time hasn’t arrived yet.”

Secretary Feng wanted to say something, but a deep gentle voice interrupted her: “Miss Feng, it’s fine. The appointment was for four. I’ll wait.”

Fang Chi’s anger flared up instantly. He crumpled the question paper and threw it in the trash, put on his glasses, and looked toward the door: “Please show Mr. Gao in.”

The door opened, Secretary Feng’s blue dress flashed, and she let in a sharply dressed man in a suit. He wasn’t very tall, even half a head shorter than Fang Chi. His short hair was combed very nicely, with a somewhat delicate feeling. The suit was high end, the waistline cinched quite flirtatiously, yes, flirtatiously, that was exactly the word Fang Chi thought of. The tie was a Hermes commemorative edition. It seemed his income was substantial.

“Hello.” Gao Zhun greeted first, with little expression. He had a memorable face, large womanlike eyes, narrow small lips, his jaw pressed tight against his shirt collar. His whole body had a kind of tensed dynamism.

“Hello.” Fang Chi smiled. This was his occupational disease, establishing rapport with clients: “Mr. Gao, please sit.”

In the middle of the consultation room were two black chairs arranged at a diagonal. He circled out from behind his desk, and on the third step noticed Gao Zhun’s expression. He was staring at the door about to close with an expression close to terror.

“Mr. Gao?” Fang Chi tested.

Gao Zhun was clearly startled, jumping back in fright. It was this step that made Fang Chi certain he had a problem.

“Mr. Gao, please sit.” Fang Chi sat down first with pen and notebook, becoming full of interest. He looked at Gao Zhun pityingly, watching him sit down reluctantly, his vintage leather bag draped diagonally across the chair leg: “Is this your first time receiving psychological counseling?”

The door clicked shut. Gao Zhun swallowed, not answering. He wore cologne, a very pleasant scent. Fang Chi examined him up close. Good taste, well bred, at least appearing flawless: “Mr. Gao, first meeting, let’s chat casually. Don’t feel pressured.”

“Okay.” Gao Zhun answered very gently, lightly directing his gaze toward Fang Chi, then quickly moving away after brief contact.

“Mr. Gao, what do you do for work?”

“I do art investment.”

“What specifically?”

“For artworks and design products within ten degrees of latitude and longitude, I have pricing authority.”

“Did you study art in university?”

“Art management. Did some printmaking.”

Talking about work and educational background, Gao Zhun seemed to relax a bit, because that was his area of success. But Fang Chi keenly noticed that he was always concerned about that door, secretly measuring it with the corner of his eye. Claustrophobia? He noted it in his notebook.

“You and Linlin are boyfriend and girlfriend?”

Gao Zhun was startled for a moment, but his expression was quite normal: “She’s my fiancée.”

The three words “fiancée” made Fang Chi very unhappy. He nodded. Gao Zhun clearly didn’t know about his relationship with Zuo Linlin. She hadn’t told him: “She had you come see me, and you don’t have any resistance?” He smiled against his will, carrying a kind of rugged casualness: “Most people don’t like seeing psychologists.”

Gao Zhun wasn’t infected by his mood. His right index finger rubbed the tip of his nose: “She cares about me very much. She said you two are friends. I thought it would be good to meet.”

Some people make this movement when hesitating. Fang Chi, like a high schooler observing his crush, carefully observed him. He knew he was lying: “She said you have insomnia.”

To his surprise, Gao Zhun changed his tone, somewhat sharp, somewhat challenging: “Dr. Fang, you never have insomnia?”

This was a defensive state. Fang Chi smiled: “Of course I have times when I can’t sleep. I usually listen to music or watch TV. What about you?”

Gao Zhun’s face froze. His thin lips moved, his narrow pointed red tongue came out to lick the corner of his mouth: “I… drink a bit. In my line of work I can’t stay up late.”

“Oh,” Fang Chi deliberately dragged out his voice: “Then have you tried sleeping pills?”

He didn’t look at Gao Zhun, but could feel Gao Zhun staring at him unblinkingly. The air congealed, like a silent contest of strength. Fang Chi wasn’t afraid. He was best at using this kind of silence. Gao Zhun was at a loss. His pretty large eyes darted left and right for a while, finally yielding under the pressure. He took a deep breath, closed his eyelashes and opened them again: “Is there water?”

Fang Chi set down his pen and paper, got up to pour him water. The instant the water dispenser switch was pressed, Gao Zhun said lightly from behind: “I’ve tried.”

Fang Chi immediately seized the opportunity: “How long?”

He handed him the water. Gao Zhun held the cup but didn’t drink: “About a month.”

How to describe his expression? Fear, loneliness, lost and disoriented. Fang Chi had definitely seen this kind of expression before, but couldn’t recall it at the moment: “Did it feel good after taking it?”

“…No.” Gao Zhun gradually relaxed, his waist pressing back against the chair back. This was a signal letting Fang Chi know he could go further. He slowed his tone, carrying a hint of coaxing, slowly drawing closer: “If you don’t take it, what happens?”

Gao Zhun followed his train of thought: “I’ll have nightmares.”

“What kind of nightmares?”

“Always the same dream. I…”

He wanted to say “I walk down the parking garage alone,” but the words stopped at his lips. To prevent these words from coming out, he even covered his mouth. Fang Chi watched with his own eyes as cold sweat flowed down his smooth forehead. He was enduring tremendous pain.

For Zuo Linlin’s sake, Fang Chi should have pushed him harder, but he didn’t. Instead he reached out, wanting to support those thin shoulders. Gao Zhun didn’t give him the chance. Like a woman having a nervous episode, he spilled the water from his cup just to avoid his suddenly outstretched hand.

The situation was very awkward. Fang Chi wanted to give a bitter smile, but controlled it: “It’s fine.”

“Sorry, sorry… sorry…” Gao Zhun repeated again and again. Fang Chi casually glanced at him and discovered that the corners of his eyes were actually wet.

“Are you scared?” he asked.

Gao Zhun immediately denied: “No no, just… you’re too close to me.”

Fang Chi thought about it, then stood up: “Let’s try.”

“Try what?”

“Try to find a safe distance you can accept.”

Gao Zhun wanted to use a smile to refuse this suggestion: “Don’t joke Dr. Fang, two grown men…”

Fang Chi didn’t want to beat around the bush with him anymore: “Mr. Gao, now I can be certain, you have a problem.” He paused to let this sentence carry more weight: “And, I can responsibly tell you, I can solve your problem.”

Gao Zhun’s mouth hung slightly open, looking up at him attentively. This was exactly what Fang Chi wanted, cooperation: “Your insomnia, fear, interpersonal relationships, I can help you adjust all of them to optimal condition.”

These words clearly held great appeal for Gao Zhun. He eagerly said: “How?”

Fang Chi locked onto his eyes: “I need you to trust me.”

Gao Zhun immediately answered: “I trust you!”

Fang Chi shook his head: “First, I need you to tell me the truth.”

The fire in Gao Zhun’s eyes dimmed. He lowered his proud neck, habitually gripping that Patek Philippe on his left wrist, vulnerable and struggling: “Give me some time…”