Exorcism in Los Angeles? Just talk it out!

A ray of afternoon light shone through the floor-to-ceiling windows, lazily spreading across the floor.

A heavily made-up woman slumped onto a leather sofa, crossed her legs high, tossed her purse aside, and began to speak animatedly.

"Dr. Li, my daughter keeps saying she has depression and mental illness, and she refuses to study or go to school. I suspect she's lying to me."

As she spoke, she gestured incessantly with her hands, her ten fingers adorned with gleaming gold rings that dazzled the eye in the light. Her thickly drawn eyebrows were tightly furrowed, resembling two angry caterpillars straddling her forehead.

"This girl has been rebellious since she was little, and her grades aren't good. I'm worried she won't get into a prestigious university, so the pressure I put on her... is a little bit too much."

She gestured with her thumb and forefinger, indicating "just a tiny bit," her tone carrying an unquestionable air of self-assurance. "But I haven't really pressured her. I only let her attend two hours of after-school tutoring each day, two hours at most. Where does she get the pressure?"

She paused, her tone suddenly rising, "Don't you see the kids in the east, studying until midnight, their hair turning white from lack of sleep? That's real pressure. I've been very lenient with her."

"Indeed, it's quite comfortable here with America..." Li Ang nodded, sitting opposite her with one leg crossed over the other, his posture relaxed and his expression as calm as an autumn pond.

He didn't rush to speak, but simply lowered his head and gently pushed the freshly brewed cup of coffee beside him towards him.

"Miss, don't rush, take a sip first to warm your stomach."

The woman took the cup, but only held it in her hand. Steam rose from the rim of the cup without her even glancing at it, and continued talking non-stop, "She's been spoiled by me since she was little. She's our only precious daughter, and I'm making her study so that it's for her own good."

"It's very tough here in America. There are few job opportunities. If you don't get into a prestigious university, it will be difficult to find a job in the future. You can only do low-level service jobs."

Li Ang raised his eyelids slightly and slowly asked, "Please wait a moment, what's your daughter's name?"

"Ding Moli, that's the name I gave her, her nickname is Lily." A fleeting, almost imperceptible tenderness crossed the woman's face.

Li Ang continued, "And you? What's your name?"

"My name is Hu Jia."

How old are you?

"I'm forty-five this year—" The woman stopped abruptly halfway through her sentence, her eyes sharpening as she turned her head to look Li Ang up and down with a forced smile.

"Hey, no, I mean—Dr. Li, are you even qualified? My husband paid so much money to have you come and treat my daughter, not to pry into my privacy."

Li Ang calmly put down his cup, interlaced his fingers, looked directly at her, and said in a calm but clear tone, "I have a general understanding of your condition."

Schizophrenia is a curable illness.

He paused, then continued, "Illegible risperidone microsphere injection and olanzapine long-acting injection once a week, plus one zolpidem tablet before bed. With consistent treatment, symptoms can be significantly relieved."

The consultation room was silent for almost three seconds.

"...Who are you talking about?"

Hu Jia's smile froze. Her brows furrowed deeply, and she slammed her coffee cup down heavily on the coffee table with a sharp crack. "Dr. Li," she said angrily, "are you deaf? I was talking about my—daughter."

"I know you're talking about your daughter."

Li Ang was not swayed by her tone; his voice remained calm and unhurried. He rummaged through the first-aid kit beside him and pulled out a small round mirror, its surface polished to a shine, reflecting the light overhead.

He didn't explain, but quietly handed over the mirror. "Take a look first."

Hu Jia was clearly a little impatient, but she still took the mirror, snorted, and casually glanced inside—

Then—it felt like I was nailed to the spot.

The hand slowly loosened.

The coffee cup slipped off the edge of the coffee table and shattered on the floor, scattering ceramic shards and quickly soaking a large area of ​​the carpet with dark brown coffee.

Nobody cares about it.

Because the face reflected in the mirror was that of a sixteen or seventeen-year-old girl.

Her skin was delicate, almost translucent white, with thick, slightly curled eyelashes, a poorly drawn eyeliner at the outer corner of her eye, and an overly bright lipstick on her lips—

With heavy makeup, she looked like a child who had stolen an adult's clothes, yet she couldn't hide the innocence and youthful energy that was inescapable in her bones.

That was her daughter Ding Moli's face.

She conceived at the age of 29, suffered vomiting terribly during pregnancy, and spent a full seven hours on the operating table during childbirth.

From the moment that cry echoed down the corridor, she held the child in her hands, watching him grow day by day, year by year. Every inch of him was witnessed by her own eyes, and she could never mistake him for someone else.

From the time he was learning to speak, he vowed to love her for a lifetime, but later, when she failed her exams, he was so angry that she broke out in pimples every day.

But a daughter is a daughter; even if she were reduced to ashes, she would still recognize her…

only……

The person in the mirror is my daughter, so who am I?

...?

"This...this is impossible."

Hu Jia's voice was as soft as the wind blowing through the tips of grass, her fingers began to tremble, and she almost dropped the mirror.

She looked up, her eyes filled with fine red veins, her face gradually turning from ashen to deathly pale. Her lips moved, but the words that came out seemed to have been pulled from the deepest depths: "When...when did I become so young?"

Outside the window, a cloud slowly obscured the sunlight, dimming the light in the room.

The cup of hot coffee beside Li Ang, which was still more than half full, had quietly lost its steam at some point.

A chilling, unsettling atmosphere filled the air, a chilling mix of malice and jealousy...

Li Ang neither dodged nor frowned; he simply picked up the now-cold coffee and took a small sip.

"Please answer one question for me first: Do you love your daughter?"

Hu Jia was taken aback, as if he hadn't expected him to ask this question at this moment.

He then contorted his expression into an almost ferocious grin, his voice hoarse yet carrying a stubborn force, and slammed his large hand on the table, roaring, "Nonsense! What mother in the world doesn't love her child?"

She paused, her gaze sharpening. "You still haven't answered me—who am I?"

A chill seemed to suddenly rush into the air, like a silent tide, washing over the floor, the sofa, and every inch of the space.

Li Ang put down his cup, took out a neatly folded old newspaper from the bottom of the medicine box, unfolded it, flattened it, and pushed it in front of her.

"Take a look at this first..."

The paper was slightly yellowed and wrinkled. In the bottom right corner was a brief, unassuming news item, just a few dozen words: "Somewhere, at night, an accidental rear-end collision; one person died after being taken to the hospital but could not be saved." The name field simply read: "..."

Hu Jia.

The accompanying image is a photograph.

It was her, no doubt about it.

"Then I..." Hu Jia's fingers gripped the edge of the newspaper, her knuckles turning white, her eyes gradually unfocusing, like a lamp slowly, slowly going out. She opened her mouth, and after a long while, finally managed to squeeze out half a sentence, "Then what exactly am I..."

Hu Jia's gaze was like ice, pressing down on him with a chilling intensity.

It seems... if Li Ang utters even a single wrong word, she will immediately tear him to pieces.

"To be precise—" Li Ang's tone was calm, as if he were stating an objective fact, without any extra emotion, "You are Ding Moli, a secondary personality that split off from the depths of her heart under long-term high pressure."

"The thing Hu Jia couldn't let go of most before she died was her hope that she could get into a good university. After you left, in order to accomplish this, she carried this burden on her shoulders alone, studying desperately. The burden was too heavy, and she couldn't breathe. Over time, her spirit began to give way—"

"So she created 'you'."

"A mother who pushes her to study. A mother who loves her but also puts pressure on her."

Li Ang paused for a moment, then said softly, "It's you."

silence.

Like a boulder sinking to the bottom of the water, it doesn't even cause a ripple.

Hu Jia slowly slumped into the sofa, her back pressed against the cushions. She felt as if all her energy had been suddenly drained away. Her hands rested limply on her knees, her eyes vacant as she stared out the window at the gray sky.

A very, very long time passed.

"Dr. Li," her voice was terribly hoarse, like it had rusted, "you just said, after death."

"Um."

Another silence.

"Then... what should I do?"

Li Ang looked at her and solemnly repeated the question: "I'll ask you one more time—do you love your daughter?"

Hu Jia closed her eyes.

His eyelids twitched slightly, as if he was suppressing something.

The word "love" was spoken softly, yet with unwavering certainty.

"Then you must disappear."

Li Ang didn't beat around the bush. His tone was neither cruel nor did it leave any room for compromise. "Cooperate with the treatment and gradually withdraw from her consciousness. If you stay, her illness will not be cured and will relapse repeatedly. Her body can't take it, and her mind and body will become more and more fragile until one day she completely collapses."

Hu Jia didn't speak, she just sat there, her shoulders trembling slightly, "...Okay."

She took a deep breath, covered her face with her hands, and her voice seeped out from between her palms, low and broken, with a sob in her voice, but not a wail, just a suppressed sob, one after another.

"Little Jasmine...my daughter..."

Hu Jia's tears flowed uncontrollably. "Mom really loves you so much..."

"Mom, I'm sorry..."

I'm so sorry for putting so much pressure on you...

Hu Jia looked up, tears streaming down her face, and said, "Doctor, please tell my daughter that her mother will always love her... As long as she is healthy and happy, I am willing to give anything for her..."

……

……

Treatment ended.

Li Ang slung his first-aid kit over his shoulder, got up and walked towards the door. Before leaving, he bent down to pick up the mirror from the floor, placed it next to the coffee table, and then gently closed the door.

In the hallway outside the door, a middle-aged man in a suit was pacing back and forth, his leather shoes making anxious and rhythmic clattering sounds on the floor.

His hair was neatly combed, but his tie was askew, and his cuffs were loose, as if he hadn't bothered with it. Seeing Li Ang come out, he almost ran to greet him, lowering his voice but unable to hide his excitement:

"Master! Master, how is it? Has that... that evil spirit that was on my daughter been driven away?"

"Repeat it." Li Ang interrupted him, his tone calm and his eyes resolute. "Your daughter has a mental illness, called schizophrenia, which is very common clinically."

Mr. Ding's lips moved, but he immediately changed his tune, "Yes, yes, schizophrenia. Can it be cured? Has it been cured?"

"It's cured." Li Ang pulled a prescription from the medicine box and handed it over. "It has a list of medications on it. Go to the hospital and get the medicine according to the list. Take one Sinox pill every night, without fail."

He paused, raised his eyelids, and a faint smile appeared on his lips. "Don't worry, your wife won't appear again."

Mr. Ding took the prescription, his hands trembling slightly. Overjoyed, he clasped his hands and repeatedly expressed his gratitude, "Thank you, Master Li! Thank you so much! Those monks, Taoist priests, and priests toiled for two whole months, burning talismans and chanting scriptures, but to no avail. I never expected to find you here..."

He shook his head, sighed, then smiled and said, "Science, it has to be science."

"Trust in science." Li Ang slung his suitcase over his shoulder and walked towards the stairwell, his tone nonchalant, without even pausing for a moment.

"Yes, yes! Trust science!" Mr. Ding nodded repeatedly from behind, his movements as fast as a quail pecking at rice.

After seeing Li Ang off, Mr. Ding took a deep breath and pushed open the door.

A strange smell, a mixture of incense and disinfectant, hits you.

The four walls were densely covered with yellow talismans of all sizes, some with corners peeling off, and some still covered with tape.

On the altar in the center of the hall was a statue of a Bodhisattva, with three sticks of incense, mostly burned out, stuck on each side, their ash falling silently.

There was a cross leaning against the wall, next to a stack of Buddhist scriptures, and next to that were several strings of prayer beads. Confucianism, Buddhism, Taoism, and Christianity were all represented, as if trying to block all avenues.

On the sofa, Ding Moli, who had removed her makeup, was curled up and fast asleep.

Without that thick layer of foundation and lipstick, her face returned to its original state—still childlike, with slightly furrowed brows, as if she were still thinking about something even in her sleep, her eyelashes gently covering her face, quiet as ever.

Mr. Ding stood by the sofa, without saying a word, just quietly watching her for a long time.

He bent down and gently touched her forehead with the back of his hand; her temperature was normal.

Okay, it's good that you're back.

He slowly straightened up, bowed to the statues and talismans on all four sides, and murmured, "Thank you, thank you, please bless me..."

Turning around and walking out, I stepped down, feeling a hard, jolting sensation from the sole of my leather shoes.

He lowered his head.

It was that solidified coffee, along with shards of ceramic, quietly frozen on the floor.

"Why is there ice?" Mr. Ding stood there, scratching the back of his head, his brows furrowed for a long time, but he couldn't come up with a solution.

After my daughter fell ill, we consulted many doctors who all said she was possessed by an evil spirit. In the end, this Master Li said she had schizophrenia...

What's with that bone-chilling cold in this room?

That's it.

He shook his head, stepped around the pile of shards, and walked towards the kitchen, intending to boil some water.

It's good that the person is back to normal.