4 Contradiction

Page 1/3

Fang Qingzhao leaned forward, struggling to stay seated, her palms pressed on the table as her whole body trembled in distress.

“Fang Qingzhao, surely you don’t still naïvely believe that you’ve just lost a few days of memory?” Ji He slowly straightened up, looking down at her from above, enunciating each word clearly, “Do you really still remember who you are?”

Fang Qingzhao pressed her hands against her head, breathing heavily and chaotically, her ears filled with the relentless echo of her own voice, while in her mind, countless voices simultaneously cast doubt.

From her throat, she painfully forced out a few words: “You’re lying to me—you’re shaking my conviction!”

This suspicion somewhat eased her pain. She gathered her strength, lifted her head with effort, and gritted her teeth: “You’re distorting my perception.”

Ji He’s expression plainly read, “Stubborn and unrepentant.” He hooked a chair behind him with his foot and swung it beside Fang Qingzhao, then, with a long stride, sat down shoulder to shoulder with her. In front of her, he picked up a tablet, opened a video, and pressed play.

It was a rather informal recorded lecture.

About a dozen invitees sat casually in two rows, led by a middle-aged man in the center, who gave a simple introduction about memory deletion and modification to the students below.

Fang Qingzhao immediately recognized a figure sitting in the back row of the crowd.

A beige shirt outlined slender shoulders and neck, the hem casually tucked into the waistband, showcasing an elegant figure. With a detached expression, sitting outside the warm yellow light, she appeared like an indifferent bystander.

Watching herself through the screen, Fang Qingzhao felt as if she were looking at a stranger.

Ji He fast-forwarded the video to the latter half, skipping to the student Q&A session.

The middle-aged man pointed to a young man with a buzz cut, who suddenly stood up and spoke clearly and articulately: “Teacher Liang, may I ask, do different memories lead to different ways of thinking? Do different ways of thinking change a person’s character? What truly determines a person’s personality—memory or instinct? If a person with false memories still has a personality, is it the original personality? If a person’s behavior and character truly change due to altered memories, what should that be considered? Isn’t this a violation of ethics? In a sense, I even think it’s no different from killing. It kills the past ‘me’.”

Fang Qingzhao’s throat tightened painfully at those exact words, and she held her breath. Instinctively, she wanted to stand up but was pressed back down by Ji He.

The middle-aged man listened kindly throughout the young man’s speech. After a brief pause, he nodded and replied in a somewhat muffled tone, relaxed: “By your logic, a psychologist treating dissociative identity disorder is also killing. Humans can only endure their own pain and cannot accept external help. Mental illnesses should not be treated at all because whether through medication, hypnosis, or simple guidance, all affect a person’s thought and consciousness.”

The young man, roused, said passionately: “So you control their thoughts, manipulate their brains? Many extreme criminals believe themselves to be righteous saviors. But I believe humans have no right to write others’ destinies. You cannot guarantee that it will always exist and develop in an ideal way. It will destroy the stability of society!”

“We must absolutely respect others’ wishes,” Teacher Liang said kindly. “Student, when the person in pain to the point of wanting to die is yourself, I think you will not care about so-called ethical issues. Like those waiting for organ transplants—if surgery is possible, they won’t care whether the organ comes from a good or bad person, or even from another species. They just want to live.”

Whispers of suppressed discussion filled the room.

Teacher Liang smiled and asked, “Any further questions?”

The young man, repeatedly frustrated, wanted to continue arguing but dared not speak harshly due to the teacher’s status. His gaze swept the room, landing on Fang Qingzhao, who sat quietly in the back row, eyes vacant, seemingly indifferent and annoyed by the ongoing debate. He considered her the easiest target to break through. Regrouping fiercely, he demanded: “May I ask the person behind… Senior Fang, right? Do you also agree with your mentor’s view?”

Page 2/3

All eyes instantly turned toward her.

Fang Qingzhao snapped out of her daze, sighed faintly, straightened up, took the microphone handed forward, and answered the young man’s question calmly and gently: “I don’t think so.”

“So you—uh… hmm…” The young man’s fiery spirit suddenly lost its outlet. His mouth opened and closed before regaining his composure. “Why?”

Fang Qingzhao answered matter-of-factly: “Because it conflicts with the common values and sense of right and wrong held by the people.”

The young man was stunned by this sudden burst of moral clarity, unable to imagine such a simple answer was what he should hear here. He stood there dumbfounded, neither agreeing nor disagreeing, suspecting a linguistic trap.

Fang Qingzhao added: “Actually, I’m not a member of this research team. I was only invited to audit my mentor’s lecture and was unexpectedly pulled on stage.”

Teacher Liang glanced back at her, then turned and said, “We allow any voice. Scientific progress should not be restricted.”

Fang Qingzhao had intended to hand back the microphone but withdrew her hand upon hearing that and continued: “Science is indeed limited, teacher, because humans are not machines and have basic moral concepts. Human society is not a wild jungle; it has laws and order.”

Teacher Liang responded: “Of course, we abide by basic boundaries. But order does not exist to judge right and wrong.”

A girl beside Fang Qingzhao lightly nudged her elbow, signaling her to pass the microphone, but Fang Qingzhao seemed not to notice. “Order exists to maintain stability. Therefore, individual will cannot represent right or wrong; that only leads to absolute chaos. Who has the right to decide what kind of people are abnormal and should be eliminated or treated? I believe even the person themselves cannot make this judgment lightly because human thought is constantly changing.”

Teacher Liang turned to face her squarely: “I am also promoting stability. Mimetic animals can change their forms in different environments, but they don’t actually become a leaf in the rainforest or a handful of sand in the desert. Just like abnormal people cannot masquerade under normal social rules forever.

“No matter how emotions lean or how right and wrong are distinguished, this is an unavoidable reality. They hope to return to normal, so we provide methods.”

Fang Qingzhao on the screen remained calm-faced.

Offscreen, her expression was fierce.

Ji He’s left arm circled her shoulders from behind, restraining her urge to flee.

Each word lingering in the air was like a sharp needle, piercing through her eardrums into her brain, intending to dissect, confuse, and destroy her.

The person on the screen continued slowly: “But teacher, isn’t the word ‘normal’ the most hurtful? Cutting down those who cannot adapt until they are unrecognizable, stuffing them into a fixed mold to make them the same as those around them—to socialize, to work, to smile, to live—is that what ‘normal’ means?”

Teacher Liang was visibly shaken, his voice trembling as if a blade had pierced deep into his flesh, revealing unmasked pain. After a moment, he murmured, “Emotions are inherently irrational, Qingzhao.”

The audience on stage fell silent, and the students below, unaware of the full story, were infected by the atmosphere and stopped whispering.

The entire room plunged into dead silence.

After a moment, Fang Qingzhao spoke firmly but without aggression: “Yes, rules are rational, emotions are irrational. Using rules as a standard but constantly swayed by emotions only twists and inflates desires in the opposite direction. This world is full of arrogant losers and pitiable weaklings begging others to look up to them.”

Mr. Liang’s hoarse voice quickened, trembling with unresolved turmoil: “Every advancement in technology breaks conventions. Time and again, facts prove that many unacceptable ideas are just ignorant thoughts!”

“Perhaps I am a rigid person. I do not know where the boundary of ethics lies—what is progress beneficial to humanity, and what crosses the line into desecration of human existence itself, so I do not want to be a judge,” Fang Qingzhao said. “Maybe in ten or twenty years, society will accept the deletion and modification of brain information, and there will be sound regulations, perfect technology, and a harmonious atmosphere—then I would support it. But now, I do not believe it is a product suited for this era…”

Fang Qingzhao slapped the tablet, trembling as she pressed stop, then, unable to bear it any longer, slid from her chair and knelt on the ground in pain.

Ji He watched coldly as she struggled and groaned on the floor, not offering a hand but speaking indifferently: “Fang Qingzhao, when I asked if you really remembered who you were, your heart rate jumped to 142. But when I mocked your project, it stayed steady around 70. Sound familiar? You’re like a pre-programmed question-and-answer machine, reciting without emotion. There are so many logical flaws in your reasoning, and yet your body has already given the most direct feedback. Haven’t you noticed at all? Then you’re truly finished.”

Sweat and tears covered Fang Qingzhao’s face as she curled into a ball, muttering incoherently: “No… wrong—impossible—”

The young man was frightened by her reaction. He leapt up as if his seat were on fire and ran to the door, shouting: “Doctor! Doctor, come quickly!”

Soon, several medical staff rushed in.

At this moment, Fang Qingzhao dreaded others’ scrutinizing eyes. She struggled, burying her face in her arms, shouting fiercely: “Go—away!”

The surrounding noise blended into a roar like an explosion, yet she still heard two voices:

“Is she really breaking down and going mad?”

“Then you’d better ask San Yao. I’ve already spent so many resources accompanying her here playing house—what more do you want?”

Fang Qingzhao’s eyelids grew heavy and closed. Her consciousness blurred once more.

Page 3/3