"Wait a minute!" Ji Chuan suddenly spoke up, "It’s not entirely that. This isn’t a commonality! Yan Huan, you also got sick the last time you went to the countryside. But on the day you got sick, there was no wind! So, the wind isn’t the commonality!"

"Then that won’t work." Jason dismissed the newly established internal connection with one sentence, "This has to be something present every time you fall ill."

"Isn’t it okay just once?" Yan Huan didn’t quite understand the formation of this psychological illness; she really couldn’t figure out why she would get sick when the wind blew.

"Of course it matters. I need to dig deep into the internal connections beyond the surface of things."

"Dust." Ji Chuan squinted his eyes, meticulously recalling the situation that day, "I’m sure it’s the dust. The reason you mentioned the wind is that the wind often stirs up dust. And it’s also the dust you can see and feel. If you’re more specific, you should be afraid of the smell of dust, right?"

"Dust? Yan Huan, are you afraid of dust?" Jason asked, puzzled.

"Dust? Not afraid! How could I be afraid of dust?" Yan Huan was very confused by the conclusion reached by Jason and Ji Chuan.

"Why you would be afraid of dust, that’s something you need to ask yourself." Jason softened his voice, gently guiding her, "Did you experience something? An event related to dust on site. And a substantial amount of dust, think about it!"

"No." Yan Huan denied immediately, "I never remember experiencing anything related to dust. If there truly was, it would be during military training."

"Did anything happen? For instance, being hit by a drill instructor? Or the training was so bad that you were laughed at by your comrades? And so on..."

"No."

Jason was constantly trying to enlighten Yan Huan, but the answers he received were always negative.

Outside, the sunset’s afterglow tinged the sky red.

Inside, the light began to gradually dim down.

This whole afternoon of inquiry didn’t make a breakthrough. Jason was a bit tired; he stretched, looked at the empty coffee cup, and said to Ji Chuan, "Could you please get me another cup of coffee?"

Ji Chuan got up, turned on the lights in the room, and it became warmly bright inside.

Two steaming cups of coffee were brought in, Yan Huan didn’t need any, so Jason commandeered both: "I’m sorry, but I need a lot of coffee while working! In a certain sense, this is also a psychological dependency."

"Go ahead and drink. Let’s take a break and then continue." Ji Chuan sat down beside Yan Huan, noticing the fatigue on her face, he asked with concern, "How are you feeling? Are you okay?"

"Yeah, yeah." Yan Huan rubbed her slightly throbbing temples, "About this issue, I really can’t think of anything. My memory is completely blank! Frighteningly blank!"

"It’s okay. Don’t worry! As long as Jason is here, there’s no problem that can’t be solved." Ji Chuan reassured her.

Despite this reassurance, Yan Huan was still a bit worried.

Jason sipped his coffee, carefully observing Yan Huan’s expressions.

As she uttered certain words, there was a noticeable flicker of avoidance in her eyes, clearly indicating there was falsehood in her earlier responses.

Why lie?

"Yan Huan, has this illness ever caused you any trouble? Or, has it ever made you keenly want to be cured?" Jason asked.