Dr. Wang wasn't what Wanyin expected.
She was young, maybe early thirties, with short hair and wire-rimmed glasses. She wore jeans and a sweater, not the professional suit Wanyin had imagined. Her office at the shelter was tiny, just a converted bedroom with two chairs and a small table.
"Come in, sit," Dr. Wang said with a warm smile. "You must be Wanyin. Or should I call you Liu Yin?"
"I don't know yet. I'm still getting used to the new name."
"Then I'll call you Wanyin until you tell me otherwise." Dr. Wang pulled out a notebook. "Sister Mei told me about your situation. Amnesia from the accident, escaping an abusive relationship you don't remember. That must be incredibly disorienting."
"That's one word for it."
"How are you feeling right now? In this moment?"
Wanyin thought about it. "Scared. Angry. Confused. All of it at once."
"That's completely normal. Tell me about the scared part first."
"I'm scared he'll find me. Everyone keeps saying I'm safe here but I don't feel safe. I keep thinking he's going to show up and drag me back and I won't be able to stop him."
"Has he ever physically forced you to do things? Before the accident?"
"I don't know. I don't remember. But Chen Li, my old manager, she said he was controlling. That he isolated me from everyone. Made me dependent on him."
Dr. Wang made a note. "That's a form of abuse called coercive control. It doesn't always involve physical violence but it's just as damaging. Sometimes more so because it's harder to identify."
"Everyone keeps calling him an abuser but I don't remember him abusing me. How can I be traumatized by something I don't remember?"
"Your body remembers. Trauma isn't just stored in our conscious memories. It's in our nervous system, our reactions, our instincts. The fact that you're scared of him even though you don't remember why tells me your body knows he's dangerous."
That made sense in a horrible way.
"I keep having nightmares," Wanyin admitted. "Not memories, just feelings. Being trapped. Being watched. Not being able to breathe. I wake up and I'm terrified but I don't know why."
"That's your trauma expressing itself. Those feelings are real even if the specific memories aren't accessible yet."
"Will I get the memories back?"
Dr. Wang was quiet for a moment. "Maybe. Maybe not. Amnesia from head trauma is unpredictable. But Wanyin, I want you to consider something. Do you actually want those memories back?"
"What do you mean?"
"If remembering means reliving four years of emotional abuse, if it means feeling all that pain again, is that something you want? Or would you rather move forward without that weight?"
Wanyin hadn't thought about it that way. She'd been so focused on the frustration of not knowing, she hadn't considered that maybe not knowing was a gift.
"But if I don't remember, how do I learn from it? How do I make sure I don't end up in the same situation again?"
"You learn from how you feel right now. You learn from the stories of other women here. You learn from rebuilding your sense of self and your boundaries. You don't need to remember every specific incident to understand the pattern."
They talked for another forty minutes. About her family, about her fears, about the strange disconnect between who people said she was and who she felt like now.
"You keep referring to 'her' when talking about yourself before the accident," Dr. Wang noted. "Like it's a different person."
"It feels like a different person. I look at photos of myself with him and I don't recognize her. She looks happy sometimes but also... hollow. Like she's performing."
"That's actually very insightful. Many abuse victims describe feeling like they lost themselves in the relationship. Like they became a character playing a role."
"Is that what happened to me?"
"Probably. The good news is, you have a chance to rediscover who you really are. Without his influence shaping you."
After the session, Wanyin felt wrung out but also lighter somehow. Like she'd set down a weight she didn't know she was carrying.
Meanwhile, across the province in Shanghai, Shen Jingwei was getting updates from his investigator.
"We've narrowed it down to three women's shelters in Hangzhou," the man said. He was ex-police, the kind who took private jobs on the side for extra money. "Two of them denied having anyone matching her description. The third wouldn't confirm or deny."
"That's the one then. What's the address?"
"Sir, I should tell you, these shelters have legal protections. If you show up there harassing residents, they can have you arrested."
"I'm not going to harass anyone. I'm going to talk to my girlfriend who's not in her right mind and bring her home."
The investigator looked doubtful but handed over the address anyway. "Your money, your choice. But I'm telling you, showing up there is a bad idea."
After he left, Shen Jingwei stared at the paper with the address.
209 Jiefang Road, Hangzhou.
He could be there in two hours. Could walk in right now and drag her out.
But that would be sloppy. Emotional. He was better than that.
No, he'd wait. Let her think she was safe. Let her settle in, relax, let her guard down.
And then he'd make his move.
He picked up his phone and called his lawyer.
"I need you to draft a mental health petition. Xu Wanyin, age 28, traumatic brain injury with ongoing cognitive impairment. I want her declared mentally incompetent. I want legal guardianship."
"Sir, that's going to be difficult without a medical evaluation—"
"Then get me a doctor who will do the evaluation. I'll pay whatever it takes."
If he couldn't have her willingly, he'd have her legally. Either way, she was coming back.
Back at the shelter, Wanyin spent the afternoon helping in the kitchen.
Sister Mei had her chopping vegetables for dinner, simple work that kept her hands busy and her mind occupied.
"You're pretty good with a knife," Sister Mei observed.
"I used to cook sometimes. Before... everything. I think." Wanyin frowned. "Actually I'm not sure if that's a real memory or something I saw in a photo."
"Does it matter? You know how to do it now. That's what counts."
They worked in comfortable silence for a while. Then Sister Mei said, "Dr. Wang told me your session went well."
"She talks to you about my sessions?"
"Only in general terms. Patient confidentiality still applies. But she mentioned you're processing things better than expected for someone in your situation."
"I don't feel like I'm processing anything. I feel like I'm drowning."
"Drowning is still processing. You're just in the hard part." Sister Mei started peeling potatoes. "Can I give you some advice?"
"Sure."
"Don't rush to get your memories back. I've seen women in your situation before, not amnesia specifically but women who've blocked out trauma. They spend so much energy trying to remember that they can't move forward. You have a unique opportunity here. You get to build a new life without being haunted by the old one."
"But what if I need those memories? What if there's something important I'm forgetting?"
"Then it'll come back when you're ready. Trauma has a way of surfacing when we can actually handle it. Your brain is protecting you right now. Trust it."
That night at dinner, Wanyin sat with Xiao Ling and some of the other women.
An An, the thin teenager, was actually eating today. Not much, but more than yesterday. Progress.
"How was counseling?" Xiao Ling asked.
"Intense. Dr. Wang is nice though."
"She's the best. She actually gets it, you know? Not like those therapists who've never been through anything real and just repeat textbook advice."
Zhang Mei snorted. "My first therapist told me to try communicating better with my husband. Like it was my fault he broke my jaw."
The table went quiet.
"Sorry," Zhang Mei said. "Too dark?"
"This whole place is dark," the young mother - Wanyin had learned her name was Lily - said. "We might as well be honest about it."
"To darkness then," Xiao Ling raised her cup of water. "And to getting the fuck out of it."
They all raised their cups, a sad little toast to survival.
Wanyin felt tears prick her eyes. These women, they'd all been through hell. They'd all lost things - relationships, homes, sometimes their children. But they were still here. Still fighting.
If they could survive, so could she.
After dinner, she went to the tiny library on the third floor. Most of the books were donated romance novels and self-help books, but there were a few practical ones. Job hunting guides, resume writing, basic computer skills.
She grabbed one about starting over after life disruption and settled into a corner to read.
"That's a good one," a voice said.
Wanyin looked up. It was An An, the teenager. Up close she looked even younger than nineteen. Maybe seventeen.
"You've read it?"
"Yeah. The chapter about rebuilding identity was helpful. When you've been someone's girlfriend or someone's victim for so long, you forget who you were before."
"How long were you with him?"
"Two years. Since I was fifteen." An An sat down on the floor, hugging her knees. "He made me feel special at first, you know? Like I was the only person who mattered. And then slowly it became, he was the only person I was allowed to matter to."
Wanyin recognized that pattern from what Chen Li had described. What Dr. Wang had called coercive control.
"Do you regret leaving?"
"Sometimes. When I'm withdrawing and everything hurts and I just want the drugs to make it stop. But then I remember what it cost. Who I had to become. And I know I did the right thing."
"How did you get out?"
"He OD'd. Almost died. I was with him at the hospital and I just... walked away while he was unconscious. Grabbed my coat and left. Came straight here."
"Does he know where you are?"
"Probably. But he can't get to me here. And by the time I leave, I'll be strong enough to stay away."
An An stood up. "You'll be okay, Wanyin. I can tell. You've got that look."
"What look?"
"The look of someone who's already decided to survive. Some women come here still hoping their abuser will change. You're not one of them. You've already let him go, even if you don't remember him."
After An An left, Wanyin sat with those words.
Already decided to survive.
Yeah. She had.
Whatever it took, she wasn't going back.