Only after the door to his mother’s room had shut did Chen Youzai dare slip out to bathe. The showerhead in the bathroom had long since peeled and worn. From the earlier fight, his hands were swollen and mottled with bruises, dotted with countless small cuts—so much so that even holding the showerhead sent sharp stings through his fingers.
There was a mirror in the bathroom. From head to toe, Chen Youzai examined himself carefully. The wounds on his body were too many to count. Turning around, he could faintly make out the dark bruising spreading across his buttocks. Though he washed as cautiously as he could, he still brushed against his injuries from time to time, forcing him to grit his teeth and endure the pain.
Better not apply any medicine… he thought as he lay in bed.
He had injured that boy; sooner or later, the boy’s friends would seek revenge. And who knew whether his mother’s anger had truly subsided? Perhaps she had merely grown tired of beating him—tomorrow, she might continue.
Summoning all his strength, Chen Youzai rolled over, pulled the blanket over his head, and resorted once more to his tried-and-true method of forcing himself into sleep.
“You trying to suffocate yourself?”
His mother’s voice suddenly sounded right above his ear.
Chen Youzai’s eyes flew open. He turned over hastily—only for pain to erupt from five or six places at once. He yelped, sucking in sharp breaths.
Seeing his mother staring at him, he quickly forced his expression to change, swallowing back the pain and managing a strained grin.
“Mom… why aren’t you asleep yet?”
Mrs. Chen stared at him for a long moment before issuing a command: “Take off your clothes.”
Chen Youzai panicked at once, clutching the blanket tightly to his chest, eyes wide with alarm. “M-Mom… what are you doing? You’re not going to strip me and beat me again, are you?”
“I’ll strip you, beat you, and then toss you out the window when I’m done,” she replied, narrowing her eyes with the expression of a ruthless stepmother.
Though Chen Youzai knew she was joking, he still found it hard to comply.
“I’m checking where you’re hurt. I’ve got medicine for bruises.” In her hand, she held a tube of ointment.
At that moment, Chen Youzai nearly burst into tears. Seeing the conflicted look in her eyes—equal parts anger and concern—his nose suddenly stung.
“Don’t start that nonsense. Cause less trouble and I’ll be happier,” she said, reaching for his blanket.
“Mom, Mom!” Chen Youzai hurriedly stopped her. “I’ll do it myself.”
Her face darkened slightly, though a faint smile lingered. “Now you know shame? I gave birth to you. I raised you from nothing—you think there’s anything I haven’t seen?”
That’s true… Chen Youzai thought, recalling with lingering fear, I wet the bed once as a child, and you made me sleep on a mat for half a year without sheets…
“Hurry up! What are you acting shy for? You used to run around naked in front of me all the time…” She laughed heartily.
Chen Youzai flushed red. Did I really have such shameless days…?
But seeing the smile on her face, guilt slowly crept into his heart. It had been a long time since he had seen her smile like that. Back then, he had been foolish; now, he was no better. Though he had only been gone two years, for more than a year she had not even been facing her real son.
“Mom… I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been so willful…” he said, forcing an awkward smile—his swollen cheeks making the expression strained and uneven.
Her hand suddenly stopped.
The shock on her face surpassed even when she had learned he had beaten someone into the hospital. After staring blankly for a while, she reached out and touched his forehead, muttering, “This child… you’re not running a fever, are you?”
“Mom…” Chen Youzai sighed helplessly. “I mean it. All these years, I’ve made you lose face in front of others. I’m ugly, I don’t study properly, I’m always causing trouble… no wonder even Dad—”
“Don’t mention your father!” she snapped sharply.
Chen Youzai shuddered.
Silence filled the room for a long while. Finally, she tossed the ointment onto his bed. “Apply it yourself. I’m done with you.”
As she turned away, Chen Youzai noticed her eyes were slightly red. He did not know whether they had been so from before—or only just now.
If it had been earlier, it meant she still cared for him.
If it had only just appeared… then she must have thought of something painful.
Whatever the reason, he knew one thing: she was not well at heart.
And her pain stirred his own—because now, she was the only family he had left.
Holding the ointment in his hand, he did not apply it. Instead, he stared out at the night sky beyond the uncurtained window, recalling the lantern that had once hung from the tree.
He wondered whether the night sky above the Third Prince was the same as his own. He did not even know in what realm of time and space the prince lived. During those two months there, he had been like a fool, believing that even if he left, he could easily return.
But now… he did not dare go back. Perhaps he could not return at all.
If he did go back, how much time would have passed there? Perhaps the Third Prince had already ascended the throne, surrounded by consorts. Or perhaps he had left the capital with the real Mu Xueshi, wandering the world together.
And what if, upon returning here again, his mother had already grown old, her hair white?
Would they truly… never meet again?
Turning his head, Chen Youzai looked at the silver coin buried within his clothes. A sudden urge rose within him—to crush it into dust.
It’s all because of this damned thing… dragging me into this absurd transmigration, leaving me in such a miserable state… and now I sit here pining over another man.
With that thought, he struggled to reach for the clothes atop the wardrobe, intending to throw the coin away—cast it somewhere he would never see again. Or destroy it entirely, so he would harbor no more illusions and live an ordinary life henceforth.
Yet whether it was his body resisting him, or his will betraying him, the moment he tried to move, pain engulfed him. His teeth ground together with a harsh creak as he curled up beneath the blanket like a shrimp, unable to even open his eyes.
Forget it… tomorrow, then…
The next morning, Chen Youzai dragged his battered body to school as usual. Along the way, no matter who greeted him, he ignored them. If someone cursed him or deliberately shoved him, he pretended not to notice.
Not only did he fear upsetting his mother—he simply no longer cared.
“Well, well, Lord Chen, what happened? Got yourself decorated today? You’re looking more and more like a street thug,” someone mocked the moment he stepped into the classroom.
Laughter erupted.
Chen Youzai acted as though he heard nothing, walking straight to his seat. Morning study had begun; scattered voices reciting texts filled the room, yet the boy’s taunts rang clearly in every ear.
“What, went to fight again for your dream lover?” the boy continued.
At that, a girl stood up and snapped, “Say what you want about him, but stop dragging me into it. It’s disgusting.”
The boy seemed to have been waiting for that. As soon as she spoke, he turned to watch Chen Youzai with interest.
But Chen Youzai showed no reaction at all. Since his books had been taken away by scrap collectors, he only had a single surviving notebook, upon which he now rested his head, preparing to sleep.
Finding it dull, the boy turned away.
As Chen Youzai closed his eyes, a thought struck him—the girl who had spoken… was she not the one he once secretly admired?
Now, looking at her, he suddenly felt that the beauty he once saw in her could not even compare to the maids in that small courtyard.
Realizing he was once again drifting toward thoughts of the Third Prince, he abruptly sat up, flipping through his notebook to distract himself.
That flip revealed a slip of paper tucked within.
It was a note someone had written to him—judging by its contents, it was from that very girl. She had written that he should stop sending her those nauseating, lovey-dovey messages. Reading them while looking at his face only made her want to vomit.
Originally, Chen Youzai had no intention of engaging. But the arrogance in her tone stirred discomfort in his chest. After some thought, he picked up a pen and wrote a reply, passing it to her.
He wrote that he had been out of his mind before, which was why he had written such things, and that he would never do so again.
Yet the moment the note reached her, upon hearing it was from him, she crumpled it and threw it to the ground—then even kicked it away.
Anger flared in Chen Youzai’s heart, but for the sake of dignity, he did not argue with her.
At noon dismissal, he happened to run into her again. She was chatting as she walked and did not notice him; by the time she did, her shoulder had already brushed against his clothes.
“How disgusting!” she exclaimed, making a retching face and spitting on the ground.
She shot him another glare and turned to leave—but Chen Youzai suddenly grabbed her and yanked her back, nearly causing her to fall.
“Who are you calling disgusting?” he asked calmly.
The girl froze, staring at him in disbelief. When she came to her senses, he stepped closer.
“Say that again.”
His voice was steady.
Ordinarily, she would have dismissed his behavior as posturing, even laughable. But now, something in his eyes was different—something real… something unsettling.
“Has he gone crazy?” another girl whispered, tugging at her.
“I’m not crazy,” Chen Youzai said coldly, his gaze fixed on the girl he once admired. “I wrote you that note in class today just to tell you—don’t act so high and mighty just because someone chased after you. There are plenty of girls better than you. I could grab a dozen off the street if I wanted.”
“You said I was crazy? Fine—I was crazy. Back then. If I hadn’t been crazy or stupid, how could I have ever liked you?”
“And let me tell you something else—stop hovering in front of me. Looking at you makes me sick.”
When he finished, the girl stood frozen.
Her companion quickly comforted her, “Don’t get mad. He’s just unbalanced—mentally twisted. Remember when you stepped on his shoe the other day? He wouldn’t even clean it. The footprint is still there. He must’ve taken the wrong medicine today…”
Chen Youzai had already turned to leave, but upon hearing this, he stopped and looked back.
“Which pair of shoes did she step on?”
The girl sneered. “Which else? The ones on your feet. Not only are your eyes deformed, they don’t even work.”
Without another word, Chen Youzai bent down, removed his shoes, and walked straight to the trash bin—then threw them in.
Both girls stared in shock.
Slipping his bag over his shoulder, Chen Youzai walked away casually. Before leaving, he added, “Better not let me see you again. It reminds me of the past—and makes me realize just how useless my eyes were.”
“H-he… I… I was insulted… by Chen Youzai…?” The girl stammered, trembling with anger. She stared at the trash bin for a long while before storming off with her friend.
Along the way, Chen Youzai felt an immense sense of release. His mood lightened.
When he returned home, he tidied up his things and went straight to the kitchen to help his mother.
At first, she thought he was there to cause trouble. Yet he actually began washing vegetables in a proper manner. Her expression changed instantly. Grabbing his collar, she demanded, “Speak! What trouble did you cause at school this time?”
“Nothing…” Chen Youzai said blankly. “I just saw you come home from work and start cooking… it looked tiring. We don’t have homework now with the exams coming up, so I thought I’d help.”
Seeing his serious expression, she found it impossible to reconcile this with the boy who had been holed up playing games just days ago. Still uneasy, she wiped her hands, took out her phone, and called his homeroom teacher.
Even after hanging up, her expression remained unchanged. She stared at him for a long while, muttering, “Impossible…”
She even reached out to feel his forehead again—no fever.
At dinner, Chen Youzai rushed to wash the dishes. Not only that, he cleaned the entire house, threw all the laundry into the machine, rolled up his sleeves, grabbed a bucket, and began mopping the floor.
There was not the slightest trace of relief in his mother—only unease.
And not just her. His teachers and classmates were equally stunned by his transformation. For several days in a row, Chen Youzai behaved impeccably at school and diligently at home, taking on every chore.
Yet Chen’s mother could neither eat nor sleep in peace.
After raising him all these years, she knew him too well. Without some deeper turmoil, he would never become so driven overnight.
With the college entrance exams approaching, she feared that such instability might affect his performance.
At last, she resolved to take him to see a physician of the mind.
Futile Devices Scans 
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