Chapter 15: Chapter 15: Xu Huaian Has PTSD

Dabao carried two bowls into the east room, eating while feeding his father at the same time.

Gu Qinghuan specially lit a kerosene lamp for them, then took Beibei with her to eat in the main hall.

After finishing the roast chicken, Gu Qinghuan sneaked into her space again and took out a few bottles of Telunsu milk, poured them into bowls, and let the two kids drink it all. The bottles were tossed back into the space to destroy the evidence.

Once everyone was full, it was time to wash up and go to bed—there weren’t any other evening activities.

The kitchen still hadn’t been tidied up, and there was no firewood at home, so they couldn’t heat any water.

Gu Qinghuan fetched a bucket of well water, took out four new towels from her space—one for each person—and they all washed up quickly and simply.

Dabao carried a small clay pot from the east room outside, emptied it, then rinsed it thoroughly before bringing it back in.

Gu Qinghuan understood—this was for his father’s needs. What a filial child. Many adults wouldn’t take such careful care of their parents, and he was still just a kid.

She couldn’t help but sigh: children from poor families grow up fast.

Beibei, the little girl, was sensitive and quickly noticed Gu Qinghuan’s gaze. She hurriedly grabbed her hand and said earnestly, “Mom, Dad isn’t a bad person. He’s the best person in the world.

Don’t believe what the villagers say. Dad let himself be tied up for our sake. Otherwise, no one could beat him.”

By the end, the little girl’s voice was choked with emotion.

Gu Qinghuan patted her back to comfort her.

“When Dad first came back, he was actually really nice. He’d often take us up the mountain to pick fruit. But then, one time, we ran into a wild boar on the mountain. The boar almost hurt my brother, and Dad killed it with his bare hands, punch after punch.

After the boar died, Dad’s eyes turned red, and he started running like crazy through the woods. When the villagers came to carry off the wild boar, Dad suddenly went wild and started attacking everyone.

No one could stop him. Then, all of a sudden, he seemed to snap out of it.

Not long after, some village kids bullied my brother, and Dad fought with the villagers again to protect him. After he came to his senses that time, he agreed to let them tie him up.

My brother and I know it’s because he’s afraid he’ll lose control and hurt us by accident. That’s why he let them tie him up.”

The little girl’s account made Gu Qinghuan think of something.

Xu Huaian had been discharged from the army because of mental health issues; his illness wasn’t congenital.

This sounded a lot like what’s called post-traumatic stress disorder—PTSD—a psychological condition that occurs after someone experiences or confronts extreme stress, leaving them with severe psychological aftereffects.

From Beibei’s description, both of his episodes were triggered by specific situations: when someone close to him was threatened or attacked, or when he saw something highly stimulating.

“Does he have more clear-headed moments, or more episodes? How does he usually act?” Gu Qinghuan asked urgently, wanting to confirm if Xu Huaian really had PTSD.

If so, it was truly tragic—a war hero treated like a madman, tied up in a dark room, suffering both physically and mentally. She couldn’t imagine how he had survived.

“This past year, he’s been clear-headed less and less. He often can’t sleep, just stares wide-eyed until dawn, has nightmares and wakes up screaming.

Sometimes he talks to himself, or suddenly gets really angry and refuses to cooperate with anything. If strangers come in, he gets agitated and reacts violently.

But when he’s lucid, he’s very gentle. He teaches us how to survive, what’s edible in the mountains and what isn’t, and even teaches me and my sister arithmetic.” Dabao had overheard their conversation and joined in.

Dabao even took out a little bundle he’d brought and showed it to Gu Qinghuan. Inside were Xu Huaian’s things: some documents, a few hospital slips, and a heavy bundle of hard objects.

The hospital reports didn’t say much—just vaguely noted psychological and mental problems.

Gu Qinghuan opened the hard bundle and was stunned on the spot.

Having grown up in peaceful times, she had never seen so many military medals before—and they all belonged to one person.

There was even a first-class merit medal among them.

That was no small feat—a living recipient of a first-class merit award. This medal meant he had given everything for his country and people, with no thought for himself.

As a soldier of the people, he had truly lived up to his duty.

Gu Qinghuan admired his willpower. Before he got sick, he must have been an outstanding soldier—a national hero.

She thought, I have to do something for him.

Gu Qinghuan summarized Dabao and Beibei’s descriptions: insomnia, nightmares, irritability, easily startled, hypervigilance, anxiety, escapism, and being trapped in memories.

This completely matched the symptoms of post-traumatic stress disorder.

She was basically certain: Xu Huaian had PTSD.

She knew about this illness because, some time ago, PTSD had gone viral online, so she’d learned a lot about trauma-related psychological disorders.

Unfortunately, PTSD wasn’t officially recognized by the American Psychiatric Association until the early 1980s, and effective treatments only emerged in recent decades.

So, an outstanding soldier was misdiagnosed as mentally ill because of post-war psychological issues and forced to leave the army.

Even his own parents treated him like a lunatic, tying him to a bed for over a year, and eventually just threw him out to die. In the book, his fate was to die an unnatural death!

How ironic, how absurd.

Gu Qinghuan’s lips trembled, and tears slid down her cheeks—tears of sympathy, pity, and admiration for this poor soul.

Even in this state, he still worried about hurting others, willing to confine himself to a tiny room, needing help with every basic need. For a normal person, that was unimaginable.

Gu Qinghuan gently patted the two children’s heads. “Don’t worry. Your father will get better.”

“Really?” The two children looked at her with tear-filled eyes, hardly daring to believe it.

“Really. I promise I’ll find a way to treat him. But for now, you two need to go to sleep.”

Just like the night before, the two kids slept in the east room with Xu Huaian, while Gu Qinghuan slept alone in the west room.

Before bed, Gu Qinghuan poured three cups of spiritual spring water for the two kids and Xu Huaian, only relaxing once she saw them drink it.

Xu Huaian didn’t want to drink, glaring at them with bloodshot eyes and baring his teeth. This time, Gu Qinghuan wasn’t as scared as before. Instead, she went over and helped him drink it herself.

The spiritual spring water could subtly nourish the body and improve constitution—she hoped it could help his illness, even if just a little.

The kang bed in the room had been cleaned spotless by the two kids. The old bedsheet from the original owner had been used for Xu Huaian that afternoon, so she just spread it out in the east room for them to sleep on.

Gu Qinghuan also brought over the old cotton quilt for them to use at night. The weather was getting colder, and they needed covers at night.

Two kids and one thin adult—the quilt just barely covered them. Xu Huaian was too tall, so his feet stuck out, but it was better than nothing.

She really didn’t know how they’d survived previous winters.

Dabao looked at Gu Qinghuan worriedly. “You gave us the quilt—what about you? Won’t you be cold tonight?”

Gu Qinghuan, of course, had her own ways. The big villa had plenty of quilts, and she could sleep there at night—it was much more comfortable than the kang bed.

But to keep Dabao from worrying or feeling guilty, she reassured him, “I’m planning to make a new quilt anyway. You guys can use this old one. Besides, I have a thick cotton coat—covering up with it is just as warm as a quilt. Don’t worry.”

Seeing how serious she was, Dabao finally relaxed and lay down.

Gu Qinghuan blew out the kerosene lamp. “Good night. Go to sleep now.”

Beibei sweetly echoed, “Good night, Mom.”

Dabao also silently whispered in his heart, “Good night, Mom.”"