PDLP Chapter 396 The two sisters carry lanterns to cross the "Jiao" River
Chapter 396 The two sisters carry lanterns to cross the "Jiao" River
The two sat side by side in the long corridor at sunset, the wind making the bamboo shadows sway gently.
Du Xiaobing clutched his chest, his brow furrowed in worry:
“Little Sizi, these past few days my chest feels like it's being pressed by a millstone, pricked by needles, just like when Xi Shi clutched her heart. But I'm clearly not a beauty, why is God so unfair? I can't concentrate on my studies during the day, and I wake up in a fright at night when I close my eyes. Mother says I'm ‘overthinking,’ but I know this isn't something that can be resolved with a simple ‘think more positively.’”
Xiao Sizi placed the lamp between the two of them, sat cross-legged, as if setting up a small courtroom.
He spoke slowly, "It's not your heart that hurts, it's your emotions. You've been burning anxiety like fuel these days, and now your chest is steaming. When the fire burns, it naturally hurts."
Du Xiaobing sighed: "But I can't tell—is this a mental illness, or a mental 'illness'?"
Little Si smiled, mimicking the doctor's tone: "If the pain can walk on its own, reaching your arms, chin, and back, accompanied by cold sweat and nausea, then it's your heart complaining, and you need to see a doctor quickly. If the pain is like a dragonfly skimming the water, coming and going quickly, it's mostly anxiety causing trouble. Does your chest pain linger?"
Du Xiaobing thought for a moment and shook his head: "It's like a cat, jumping onto your lap and then jumping away. Especially when you first wake up in the morning, it's all dazed and confused."
“Then it’s the latter.” Little Sizi nodded. “But even though cats are mischievous, they still need to be stroked. Come, let me teach you a few tricks.”
She pulled a small square piece of paper from her sleeve and read aloud a string of words, like reciting poetry—
"The first move is to inhale and exhale slowly, turning the breath into a thread, circling it around your heart three times, and then slowly exhaling."
The second strategy is to take a walk, not necessarily a long journey, but just a few steps, letting the natural wind blow away your anxiety.
The third tip is to soak your feet at night. The water should be hot and the soaking time should be long enough. Sprinkle a few pieces of orange peel on the surface of the water to smooth out the wrinkles from the day.
The fourth technique involves pressing two acupoints: Neiguan (PC6) is like a pass, and Tanzhong (CV17) is like a city wall. Use your fingertips as soldiers to gently tap the city gates, three fen (approximately 0.5 cm) on each acupoint, five taps on each. When it hurts, the "soldier" retreats.
Du Xiaobing listened intently, and his chest seemed to relax a little, but he still whispered, "But I'm afraid I won't be able to hold on."
Xiao Sizi raised his hand and slapped her on the shoulder: "Then lie down. Lie down where you fell for a while. The earth won't laugh at you, and the sky won't fall. Get up when you've had enough—after all, even the sun has to sink a little before it rises."
Du Xiaobing suddenly laughed out loud, mimicking her tone: "Okay, then I'll lie down tonight, I'm sure I'll be happy tomorrow."
The bamboo shadows swayed, and the two shadows overlapped, like a painting slowly healing.
The following evening, on the hill behind the academy, the pine trees rustled in the wind. Du Xiaobing sat on the stone steps, hugging his knees, a thin layer of sweat on his forehead, as if he had just escaped a nightmare.
Sizi carried a small paper lantern with a grinning raccoon painted on the lampshade. The light flickered, casting swaying shadows of the two people.
Du Xiaobing: "Sizi, am I really overthinking things? Am I being too dramatic?"
Xiao Sizi raised her hand and flicked Xiao Bing's forehead: "Pretentious? If your leg were broken, would you call yourself pretentious? Your brain can also sprain its ankle, you just can't see it. Ha, if just thinking about it can grind a person down like this, then thoughts are knives. — This is called anxiety disorder, and it can't be dismissed with a simple 'I've been under a lot of stress lately'."
She pulled a thin booklet from her pocket, the cover of which read "The Anxiety Relief Booklet," and handed it over.
"Remember on the first page: If you experience sharp, throbbing chest pain, ask yourself three questions first—"
First, can the pain spread to the left arm, chin, and back?
Second, have you ever been sweating profusely or panting heavily?
Third, can the pain be endured for thirty minutes without letting go?
If both are true, go to the doctor immediately; don't delay. If not, it's most likely just anxiety and superstition.
Du Xiaobing nodded, his breathing slowing slightly.
Little Sizi turned another page: "Remember this—"
Although the knife is sharp, it has a scabbard. The scabbard has three layers:
The outer layer is called 'cognition', the middle layer is called 'medicine', and the inner layer is called 'microbes'.
Du Xiaobing blinked: "Microbes?"
"Yes, a freshly baked story from the future. There was a group of Irish scholars who transferred the gut bacteria of socially anxious patients into the stomachs of mice, and the mice actually learned to avoid their own kind. Thus, the world realized that the thousands of troops in the gut could remotely control the lights in the head."
Du Xiaobing touched his stomach and smiled bitterly: "So it turns out that my restlessness day and night is because the little one in my belly is rebelling."
“Therefore,” Little Sizi closed the booklet, “it also requires a three-way coalition to subdue it:
First, cognition – find a wise and articulate person to help you strategize and rewrite 'what if' as 'even if'.
Second, medications—the five golden flowers, with SSRIs as the leader, can save lives from fire and water, but require careful control by both the doctor and the dosage.
Third, microorganisms—eat more vegetables and less sugar, let beneficial bacteria reign supreme; if 'bacterial agents' are ever developed, then ask them to act as our inside agents.
Du Xiaobing looked up: "Then... what if I can't find the doctor for a while, and I can't swallow the medicine?"
Xiao Si pushed the lamp in front of her, and the wick popped and burned.
"Then light your own little lamp first! Do you know that lamp oil has four flavors?"
"kerosene?"
"Well, the first ingredient is 'movement'—briskly walk three thousand steps every day to drive away anxiety with sweat; the second ingredient is 'stillness'—soak your feet for twenty minutes before bed, adding three qian each of orange peel and mint, letting the heat soften your thoughts; the third ingredient is 'companionship'—tell your mother, brother, or a trusted friend: 'I'm in pain right now, and I need you to sit beside me, even if you don't say a word.' The fourth ingredient is 'thought'—write down your worst thought of the day, and then write next to it: 'It came, but it wasn't me.'"
Du Xiaobing gazed at the lamplight, a hint of moisture welling in his eyes: "Even if I write it down, I still can't get rid of it?"
Little Si patted her shoulder: "Then write another line—'I have lit the lamp, and the sky will eventually brighten.'"
Remember, you are not alone. There is a bridge over the underground river, its piers formed by the outstretched hands of millions. With each step you take, the bridge grows longer.
The wind in the pines suddenly stopped, and the lamp wick stood firmly. Du Xiaobing took a deep breath, as if inhaling the lamplight into his chest.
“Little Sizi,” she said softly, “I’ll go back and soak my feet in hot water tonight, then write the first ‘thought paper.’ Tomorrow… if I’m still in pain, come with me to see that talking gentleman, okay?”
Little Si grinned, revealing a smile exactly like the raccoon on the lantern: "Alright. If you can't walk, I'll carry you; if you're afraid of the dark, I'll carry the lantern. We'll cross the river step by step."
The lights flickered, giving them a gentle nod in agreement.
On the third night, as darkness fell, a single lamp shone through the window of the Hundred Herbs Cottage as usual.
Du Xiaobing sat with his knees drawn up to his chest at the table, on which lay seven blank sheets of paper, like seven empty bowls waiting to be filled with soup. Xiao Sizi rolled up his sleeves, carrying a small copper kettle, from which steam rose, the aroma of medicine mingling with the breeze through the pines, wafting into their nostrils.
Du Xiaobing frowned: "Little Sizi, it's like seven naughty ghosts live in my heart, taking turns causing trouble—anger, sorrow, fear, depression, hostility, doubt, and a strange wind that blows with the seasons. They're driving me crazy."
Little Sizi placed the copper kettle on the table, making a clinking sound, and said with a smile, "Perfect timing! I have seven kinds of soup ingredients here, one strange and one flavorful. After we finish drinking, we'll put them back at the bottom of the pot. Come on, tell me your names first—"
Du Xiaobing slammed his hand on the table: "The first strange thing came the fiercest, called 'Anger'. When I got angry, my face turned pale and my fingertips turned purple, as if a ghost was choking me."
Little Si sprinkled a pinch of "cooling grass": "Remember—the character for anger can be broken down into 'slave heart.' Close your eyes for three breaths, hold the character 'slave' in front of you, and ask yourself: 'Would you rather be a slave or a master?' If you are still angry after three breaths, breathe the fire onto the paper, tear it up, and throw it away. Anger should not last more than three incense sticks."
Du Xiaobing lowered his head: "The second strange thing is 'sorrow'. I can't eat or drink, tears are pouring into my lungs, and I cough like a broken bellows at night."
Little Si Zi tossed in a "sweet aftertaste plum": "When you're sad, force a smile into a crescent shape—even a fake smile can fool the nerves. Go back and reminisce about the past, pick three of the happiest things, and savor them like plums, the sourness turning into sweetness. Remember to talk to someone, don't let your sadness turn into bitter wine."
Du Xiaobing shrugged: "The third strange thing is 'fear'. I'm afraid of people during the day and afraid of the dark at night. My heart beats like a drum."
Little Si sprinkled a pinch of "calming flowers": "Write the worst outcome on paper, then write 'If that happens, I will still have a breath left.' Fear is most afraid of being seen through. Every time you write it down, it shrinks an inch."
Du Xiaobing sighed: "The fourth strange thing is 'depression,' like clothes in the rainy season that can never be dried."
Xiao Sizi put down a packet of "Changhuai Tea": "Look at the sky from the opposite direction—the back of the dark clouds has a silver edge. Tomorrow I'll go to the market, find a few old men to play chess with, and sing a couple of off-key tunes. Laughter is the wind, blowing away the mold of melancholy."
Du Xiaobing clenched his fist: "The fifth strange thing is 'hostility,' seeing everyone as a hedgehog."
Little Si Zi tossed down a "transparent green crystal"—actually a piece of green tea: "Imagine the other person's thorns as feathers, treat the workplace as a stage, and just play your own role well. When hostility rises, take a sip of green tea first, and theanine will light a calming incense for you."
Du Xiaobing scratched his head: "The sixth oddity is 'suspicion.' I'll uproot anything that's even the slightest disturbance."
Xiao Sizi handed over a "self-reflecting mirror"—actually a blank sheet of paper: "Every night before bed, write down one of your strengths, and then write 'Whom have I trusted today?' The more you polish the mirror, the brighter it becomes, and suspicion will have nowhere to hide."
Du Xiaobing smiled wryly: "The seventh oddity is the strangest. It's so hot in the summer that it's unbearable, and so cold in the winter that it's unbearable."
Little Sizi finally sprinkled a handful of "Four Seasons Beans": "Practice in the sweltering heat of summer and the freezing cold of winter. In summer, use sweat to extinguish the inner fire; in winter, let the sun scorch your bones. Remember—emotions also have their seasons; go with the flow, don't fight them."
Seven ingredients were added to the pot, and the broth gradually became clearer. Little Sizi scooped a bowl and handed it over.
“Take a sip, and one monster will be driven away; after seven sips, the seven monsters will turn into seven pills, which you can collect in your palm. If they cause trouble again, show them the pills—tell them: ‘I recognize you. If you dare to cross the line again, I will chew you up and make new soup.’”
Du Xiaobing held the bowl and drank it all in one gulp. The bitterness hit first, followed by a lingering sweetness.
Outside the window, the crescent moon hung like a hook, catching a wisp of pine breeze. Du Xiaobing let out a long sigh, the gloom between his brows dissipating considerably.
“Little Sizi,” Xiao Bing said softly, “does this Seven-Flavor Soup have a name?”
Little Sizi put away the copper kettle, stood with his hands behind his back, and laughed:
"Let's call it—'Master's Soup'."
Anger, sorrow, fear, depression, enmity, doubt, and seasonal winds—these seven strange things are all fleeting visitors; only you are the master.
"Night Talks at Baicaotang: Headaches and Panting"
As the night deepened and the dew grew heavy, only a lantern remained in the courtyard of Baicaolu. Du Xiaobing hugged his knees, his forehead still damp with sweat. The warmth of the "master's soup" from earlier was still lingering in his chest, yet a lingering ache remained, like a wisp of gossamer, clinging to his temples.
Xiao Sizi placed the medicine pot on the bluestone steps, sat down first, rolled up his sleeves to his elbows, revealing an old scar on his forearm. In the flickering lamplight, the scar looked like a sleeping little snake.
Du Xiaobing (in a low voice)
“Little Sizi, you just said that the Seven Monsters are all just passing through, but I still feel like there’s a string in my head that’s being tightened inch by inch. The clinic can’t find the cause of the problem, they just say that I’m ‘thinking too much’.”
Xiao Sizi looked up, her gaze softening for a moment, as if she had suddenly remembered her past.
"Ah Bing, when I was twelve, I also had a headache. It wasn't a cold, indigestion, or the horns on my head... but it was—"
Si Zi pointed to her chest, "My emotions were suppressed too much, like a simmering pot, with steam rushing into my brain."
Du Xiaobing was slightly taken aback: "Emotions can grow teeth?"
Little Sizi smiled, but the smile was tinged with bitterness: "It didn't just grow teeth, it could bite people. Back then, I had to memorize my lessons every day, and if I couldn't, I would be punished with a ruler. I was both scared and resentful, but I dared not say anything, so I could only grit my teeth. Over time, my head felt like it was wearing an iron band, and I would wake up in pain every night. The doctor couldn't find any real cause, and only prescribed Sichuan lovage and angelica, but little did he know that the root of the problem lay in the three words 'dared not say anything'."
She pulled a neatly folded old piece of paper from her bosom, unfolded it, and revealed densely written small characters on it—
"Psychogenic headaches, also known as somatic headaches, are caused by long-term anxiety and depression, which over-energize the sympathetic nervous system, causing muscle tension and blood vessels to constrict, resulting in pain. Four out of ten people with depression will complain of headaches."
Du Xiaobing's hand holding the paper trembled slightly: "Then how did you remove the iron hoops later?"
Little Sizi held the paper up to the lamplight; the flame licked the ink, and ashes scattered.
"Three keys, I'm handing them to you, and also to the me of yesteryear."
The first step is called "Speaking Out"—shout your most feared words three times into the wind. The wind won't laugh at you.
The second step is called 'deconstruction' – write down the thoughts that flash through your mind when the pain strikes, and then refute them one by one: 'Will I really fail the exam for the rest of my life?' 'Will I really be abandoned by everyone?' Deconstruct them until they become untenable.
The third method is called 'muscle relaxation'—close your eyes and imagine a drop of warm water sliding from your brow to the tip of your nose, to your lips, and to your neck; wherever it touches, the muscles feel like they're melting. Do this three times a day, and you'll have fewer teeth to relieve headaches.
Du Xiaobing closed his eyes, his breathing slowly becoming longer, as if a drop of warm water had truly fallen between his brows. After a while, he opened his eyes, his gaze brightening slightly.
Xiao Sizi suddenly changed the subject, patting her chest: "Besides the headache, have you ever had trouble breathing?"
Du Xiaobing nodded vigorously: "Yes! Sometimes it feels like being paralyzed by a ghost, with a heavy stone pressing on my chest, making it hard to breathe."
Little Sizi placed his hands on either side of his ribs and demonstrated: "Back then, our bodies were shouting 'Run!' When primitive people encountered a tiger, blood rushed to their limbs, but their lungs temporarily shut down so their legs could escape first. Now there are no tigers, but there are mountains of homework, bills, and favors, so—"
She suddenly clenched her fist, and "her chest roared as if it were a tiger."
Du Xiaobing smiled wryly: "But I can't escape."
"Then trick your body and tell it 'it's safe'."
Little Sizi taught her to place her hands, one on top of the other, over her chest and slowly count her breaths—
"As you inhale, think to yourself: 'I see a tiger.'"
As you exhale, say: 'But the tiger has already gone far away.'
After ten breaths, the heavy weight on your chest will loosen.
Du Xiaobing did as instructed, and after counting to the seventh breath, a little sweat appeared on the tip of his nose, but he exhaled a long breath of stale air.
Xiao Sizi suddenly reached out as if to touch her temple, but stopped half an inch away, only passing the warmth of her palm through the air.
"Ah Bing, remember this—"
Headache is not the enemy; it is the cry of a prisoner.
Chest tightness is not a monster; it is a warning bell.
If you understand their language, they will stop biting you and instead lead you home.
The lantern flickered, and tiny sparks burst from its wick. Du Xiaobing looked up and saw two clusters of fire reflected in Xiao Sizi's eyes.
She said softly, "Then from tonight onwards, I will learn to be my own translator."
Little Si laughed loudly, picked up the burnt-out ashes, and casually scattered them into the night sky. The ashes swirled in the wind, like a silent firework, announcing the departure of old pain.