Players, Please Board the Train

In the office, Tang Guangbo was organizing the medical records on the desk. Seeing Xu Huo come in, he smiled and gestured for him to pour his own water.

Xu Huo poured two cups of water and placed one in front of him.

Tang Guangbo took out his medical file, “Feeling any better today?”

Xu Huo gave no definite answer, turning his head to look at the sunlight outside the window.

Tang Guangbo did not mind, “Let’s talk for a bit first. After you take your noon medication you can go downstairs for a walk, but don’t go near the perimeter wall.”

“Do you remember what happened yesterday?” Tang Guangbo picked up his pen to take notes, “In your last dream, you mentioned your older brother and the government, and it sounded unpleasant.”

Xu Huo looked at him, “Dream? Am I not sick?”

Tang Guangbo gave a surprised smile, “Isn’t that what we agreed on? You clearly know you’re sick and you understand better than other patients how to control yourself, but you don’t like to call it a fantasy, so during treatment we replaced that word with ‘dream’.”

“I proposed using the term dream because I think you’re very lucid. Everything in the fantasy feels like an entirely different life—exciting, yes, but in the end you still have to return to reality.”

Xu Huo twirled his finger around the rim of the water cup, “How long have I been here?”“The most recent inpatient treatment lasted four months,” Tang Guangbo said. “You’ve come several times over the years, intermittently, but this is the longest continuous treatment.”

“Was I like this before?” Xu Huo asked. “Talking about players and games since I was a kid.”

“No way.” Tang Guangbo took another file from the drawer and handed it to him. “The game Dimensional Rift has only been popular for half a year, and it has recently been widely banned.”

“I don’t remember playing that game,” Xu Huo said.

“That’s normal, don’t worry.” Tang Guangbo said. “The human brain is like a massive storage container. Normally, memories closest in time are clearer and more detailed, but everyone differs. The brain autonomously filters out memories it deems unimportant.”

“You can try memory regression.”

“The first time I came to the Seventeenth Hospital, a doctor taught me how to gamble,” Xu Huo said.

Tang Guangbo nodded. “That left a deep impression on you. Each time you do memory regression you add more details.”

He motioned for him to continue.

“Later I got addicted to gambling, using every possible method—betting money, racing cars, when I was on a streak I even wagered my life.” Xu Huo seemed to sink into the memory.

“For about ten years, my parents and my older brother always cleaned up after me. It wasn’t until my brother was killed that I quit gambling.”

“But back then I was arrogant and ignorant and offended a lot of people. Even when I wanted to get out, others wouldn’t let me. The last big gamble was when I first went to Ting City—I lost everything I could lose.”

“Then I entered the game. I had just left a dungeon with Yan Jiayu, and the next moment I was here.”

“Yan Jiayu…” Tang Guangbo wrote the name down. “This is the first time you’ve mentioned her.”

“Have I never said it before?” Xu Huo asked. “I met her the first time I entered the game.”

“I said earlier your dream keeps getting refined,” Tang Guangbo said. “Actually you’re someone who enjoys thrills, but your family upbringing lets you clearly tell right from wrong, so your dream versions always end in tragedy.”

“For example, in the first treatment in your dream, because you were too young to accept yourself, a doctor teaching you gambling appears. You added last time that he was using drugs to control you.”

“You’re very intelligent. Many of those bets were conducted online. During that period people did come to cause trouble for you, but nothing too severe. You were coming to the hospital a lot then. You realized you were at risk of losing control, and after regaining self-control, your brother’s death became the turning point that made you quit gambling.”

“Even the dream about going to Ting City and losing a bet so you end up as a low-tier actor there for ten years is your mind’s way of trying to use ordinary calm life to suppress the craving for stimulation.”

He adjusted his glasses as he spoke. “Afterward you were indeed better for a while, but then you fell back into the game.”

“It wasn’t that extreme. People can’t suppress themselves forever or something worse will happen. Using ‘another life’ to vent those emotions is actually beneficial for you.”

Xu Huo watched him; Tang Guangbo had repeated the same gestures three times in a row: adjusting his glasses, sipping water, smoothing the corners of the medical file.

“What kind of person am I in my dream?” he asked.

Tang Guangbo chuckled softly, “Probably a learned but deeply scheming player. Not just me, many people in the hospital cameo in your stories—except Dean Lin, I and the other medical staff, and the patients here all appear.”

“Sorry.” Xu Huo apologized.

“No need for that. I actually feel rather pleased,” Tang Guangbo smiled. “At least in your story I’m portrayed as an erudite person.”

Xu Huo smiled as well.

“But being lost in the dream all the time isn’t good,” Tang Guangbo’s smile faded and he spoke more seriously. “Memories can be locked or unlocked. Unlocked memories are easy to recall, but locked ones require a bit of technique.”

“You can imagine the brain as a locked door. The memories you truly forgot are the locked ones—some secured with a single lock, some with many. Every time you regress memory you can open these locks once. The more times you open them, the less secure the locks become. Once you wake from the dream and become aware that your memories are locked, opening them won’t be difficult.”

Xu Huo looked at him. “Doctor Tang, you’re amazing.”

They had only met a few times before, yet he had still been influenced by him to some degree.

Tang Guangbo politely finished his notes and asked Yu Qingqing to take him out for a walk.

“Are you done talking?” Yu Qingqing pushed the door open with a hint of anxiety, taking Xu Huo by the hand and heading out.

Xu Huo could tell she wanted to speak but held it in until they reached downstairs before opening her mouth. “You told Doctor Tang already, right? Tell me more. Last time I became a player, what happened afterward?”

Xu Huo shook his head, “You weren’t in it this time.”

Yu Qingqing was a little disappointed but soon brightened, “Doesn’t matter, go ahead, tell me.”

Xu Huo brought up Yan Jiayu again, but Yu Qingqing looked puzzled and asked, “There’s no one by that name in the hospital. Where did you see that name?”

“Are all the people in my story people from the hospital?” Xu Huo asked.

“Not necessarily.” Yu Qingqing said. “The characters who matter most are those you see often. Like me— in your dream I’m your cousin. Dai Wenqian, who doesn’t like you, is the antagonist. Zhou Ning, who’s good to you, is a companion.”

“Dai Wenqian isn’t a villain,” Xu Huo said.

Yu Qingqing waved her hand, “Whatever, I think it’s close enough.”

At that moment, noise came from upstairs.