“People, don’t panic, I’ll come save you right away!” The little boy snatched the microphone from his father, saying solemnly.

It looked deeply moving, but soon someone pointed out that the law doesn’t allow minors to be equipped with internal smart brains, and that the father giving the speech should be arrested. Frightened, the speaker hurriedly fled with his son in his arms, while the child was still trying hard to strike a pose in his father’s embrace...

“What a bunch of idiots.” Edward Sullivan turned off the projector and mocked in Mandarin with an American accent, inviting Ryan Carter and Ethan Bolton to sit in front of him.

He had already carefully reviewed the information Ryan Carter had sent earlier and had a good grasp of the situation, but still needed to conduct a thorough test for diagnosis.

“Your name.”

“Heh, my name, and you don’t know it?” Ethan Bolton crossed his legs, staring down the obviously ill-intentioned doctor with a domineering air. As the CEO who controlled the world’s economic lifeline, no one could possibly not know his name.

“Sorry, I’m American, so I don’t know much about Chinese celebrities.” Edward Sullivan lowered his head and wrote down the record on a form.

“Oh? Then who was it last week that tricked me into buying a set of premium deep-sea caviar daisy skincare products?” The sharp CEO unhesitatingly exposed Edward Sullivan’s attempt to bluff his way through.

Daisy... skincare products? Ryan Carter’s face darkened as he squinted at Edward Sullivan.

“Ah, haha...” Dr. Edward Sullivan let out an awkward laugh and filled in “normal memory, no errors” in the memory status column.

“Trying to fool me? You’re still too green,” Ethan Bolton sneered. “No one can escape the eyes of Dior Bolton.”

A series of tests took up the entire afternoon. Edward Sullivan produced a detailed report for Ryan Carter, along with a pricey bill for the examination: “According to the tests, Mr. Bolton has Smart Brain Disorder Syndrome. You’ve seen the previous reports—due to external impact, his memory and behavior have become somewhat confused.”

Such news isn’t allowed to be reported domestically, for fear of causing public panic. Smart Brain Disorder Syndrome is a cutting-edge research topic, and there’s currently no systematic treatment in China.

“As it happens, my mentor is currently researching this area.” Edward Sullivan said with some pride, trying to make the client realize how wise it was to choose him as a private doctor.

Ryan Carter carefully flipped through the test report, which showed that most of his own “big guy” classmate’s ordinary memories were intact, with a small portion showing memory replacement, and some cognitive bias about himself and the world.

“Do you know what his smart brain displayed at the last moment?” Edward Sullivan adjusted his glasses and asked seriously.

Ryan Carter glanced back at his devilishly charming partner, veins throbbing on his forehead: “Probably... ‘The Overbearing CEO’s Priceless Beloved Wife’...”

“I see,” Edward Sullivan seemed a bit disappointed, glancing down at the materials he’d researched overnight. “I thought it was ‘The CEO’s Million-Dollar Bride’ or ‘The Evil Young Master’s 99th Runaway Wife’.”

What’s the difference? Boss Carter felt like hitting someone after hearing that.

Dr. Edward Sullivan didn’t realize he’d revealed anything, and continued his lecture. Actually, not everyone who suffers a blow will get this syndrome—there’s only a 0.2% chance. The original developers had anticipated this, so they made preparations.

“What preparations?”

“Automatic memory clearing system.”

In fact, most of the smart brain’s information is stored externally; the internal storage is limited and is automatically cleared periodically. Once the information causing the disorder is cleared by the smart brain, Dior Bolton will revert to Ethan Bolton. But how long this takes is uncertain.

“So please bear with it for a few days.” Edward Sullivan looked at Ryan Carter sympathetically.

Just then, Ryan Carter was suddenly yanked away by a strong force, his back slamming into a solid chest. Warm lips pressed against his ear, the voice low and dangerous: “Chatting with another man for so long right in front of me, hmm? Baby, don’t test my patience lightly.”

“……”

“I can’t stand it for even a day.” Ryan Carter clenched his fist until his knuckles cracked.

“Then let me write you a prescription.” As a thoughtful private doctor, Edward Sullivan was committed to meeting any client request. With that, he sent Ryan Carter a video archive.

“What’s this?” Ryan Carter opened his smart brain to check.

“These are videos my mentor collected of people with this syndrome. Watching them will comfort you.” Dr. Edward Sullivan took off his glasses, tucked the temple into his breast pocket, and smiled with a saintly glow.

“...How the hell is this supposed to be comforting?”

“Laughter adds ten years to your life.” Edward Sullivan boasted, showing off his HSK Level 8 Chinese.

Ryan Carter couldn’t laugh at all. With his partner, who was happily swiping his black card to pay the bill, he wearily returned to their downtown apartment.

This apartment was where the two of them stayed on workdays—a small duplex with two floors. The first floor was the living room, dining room, and kitchen; the second floor had the bedroom, study, and walk-in closet. Back then, to prove his determination never to sleep in separate rooms, Ethan Bolton bought this two-hundred-square-meter place with only one bedroom.