But he would also develop a stress disorder afterward, completely refusing chocolate, and even experiencing a conditioned reflex of vomiting whenever he ate this food.
Luo Mu’er had observed that his vomiting, like some eating disorders, was initially a self-punishment and self-loathing he forced upon himself. But it soon evolved into a genuine stress response, to the point where he couldn’t even touch anything with a chocolate flavor.
—Obsessive, self-controlled, stubborn. Once he decided on something, he would continuously reinforce his self-awareness, deeply etching it into his mind and catalyzing it into a part of his behavioral instinct.
This personality typically wouldn’t change.
Luo Mu’er never imagined that his so-called brother would one day be able to overturn his self-awareness—if he wasn’t lying.
Something stirred deep in Luo Mu’er’s heart, seemingly wanting to attempt something, but hesitating.
After a while, he coughed with complex meaning, unzipping his assault jacket to reveal a corner of an inner scarf: “…Noah.”
“Look at this, Noah,” he gently grasped Si Nan’s chin to make him look at him, this time deliberately using a softer touch: “Do you remember?”
Si Nan glanced at it.
“The year my mother passed away, I flew from New York to Los Angeles to attend her funeral,” Luo Mu’er said slowly. “And you were there too. After the funeral, I walked alone into the forest, and it was raining.”
Suddenly you walked over and gave me this scarf…”
“‘Aren’t you cold?’ you asked me then. And my response was to wave the scarf away and angrily tell you to get lost. You didn’t speak again, looked at me for a while, and then turned to walk out of the forest.”
Many years later, Luo Mu’er could still vividly recall every detail of that moment, including his brother’s pale face wrapped in a black coat, his eyelashes moistened with fine raindrops, and the arc of his coat’s corner when he turned and left silently.
But it was also the last time, so Luo Mu’er never had the chance to verify the hypothesis he had repeated countless times—if he had responded differently then, would many things have been different?
“The next day when I left Los Angeles, I returned to that forest, picked up your scarf, and have kept it ever since.”
