Chapter 959: Chapter 751: Love Between Partners (Part 2)

One part of Chen Lizhou wanted to protect himself, so it tried to activate [Dissociation] to stop him from revisiting the past;

another part of Chen Lizhou also wanted to protect him, but its way was to have him seek out Nan Zhubin and, through Psychological Consultation, completely shatter everything that had been constructed in his previous state of [Personality Dissociation].

Fortunately, the latter succeeded.

Nan Zhubin let out a long breath of relief in his heart.

With a wound that is broken open, you can more directly see the festering, rotten things inside.

But Chen Lizhou’s problems were not something that could be solved in a single session.

As the consultant, Nan Zhubin could not possibly let the visitor leave the consultation room in such a shattered state; that would be extremely dangerous.

In this situation, Nan Zhubin needed to strip off the armor that Chen Lizhou used to defend himself, and then cover it with a layer of protective film made of his own material. While helping Chen Lizhou fend off life’s blows, he, as the consultant, would be able to easily peel it open again in the next session to keep clearing out the dirt inside.

He needed to build a "scaffold" for Chen Lizhou, to knead his fragmented Self into at least a form that could go on living.

"In that case..."

Nan Zhubin was making a plan in his mind, his eyes slightly out of focus, the [Flow State] kicking in.

In his head he kept sorting through Chen Lizhou’s issues, arranging them in order of urgency and severity.

He needed to screen out which problems could be addressed today, and which needed to be left with hooks in place for deeper exploration later.

Nan Zhubin quickly made up his mind.

There were only two things left to do today:

First, he had to resolve Chen Lizhou’s self-condemnation, break his cognition that "I’m dirty and unworthy of my wife’s love," dissolve his guilt and self-blame, and help him accept his own imperfection and his complex love for his wife;

Second, once Chen Lizhou’s emotions had stabilized and he had accepted himself, he would use the [Empty Chair Technique] for intervention, to vent all the guilt, regrets, and unspoken words, complete the unfinished dialogue with his wife, and dissolve the obsession in his heart.

...

Having settled on his course, Nan Zhubin’s pupils refocused.

At this moment, Chen Lizhou’s emotions were also gradually calming down.

He raised his head. "Teacher Nan, do you also think I’m very selfish?"

So in the end, what the visitor cared about most was still this question.

Nan Zhubin gave a slight nod in his heart, but outwardly he shook his head at Chen Lizhou.

"It’s exactly the opposite."

Nan Zhubin began with [Support].

"From what you just described, I can hear your guilt, see your self-blame, and feel the struggle in your heart."

Then came [Empathy] and [Emotional Feedback].

"And these reactions are precisely the proof that—you really love your wife."

Chen Lizhou was stunned.

His eyes opened slightly wider. "But... I’ve thought about divorce, I’ve thought that I’d feel relieved if she was gone, I even... even cheated in my heart."

"I’ve treated her so badly, been so selfish. How do I... deserve to say that I love her?"

For someone caught in a flood of emotion, it’s very hard to refute their key cognitions.

Nan Zhubin decided to overwrite them with a completely new piece of theoretical knowledge, to open up a new line of thought for Chen Lizhou.

This also matched the professional thinking patterns that Chen Lizhou had developed.

"In psychology, we have a particular way of looking at love," Nan Zhubin said. "It’s called the [Triangular Theory of Love]."

Chen Lizhou froze again; in the surge of feeling, his emotions instinctively stalled for a moment.

Nan Zhubin spoke very slowly, making sure every word could enter Chen Lizhou’s ears and be received.

"In the [Triangular Theory of Love], love is composed of three core elements. They are—"

Nan Zhubin first extended his index finger. "Intimacy;"

then his middle finger. "Passion;"

and finally his ring finger. "Commitment."

"Intimacy, passion, and commitment are the three elements of love from a psychological perspective."

Looking at Chen Lizhou, Nan Zhubin explained, "Intimacy refers to the tacit understanding, mutual comprehension, and interdependence that form between two people over the long term; it’s the base tone of emotion;"

"Passion refers to the initial thrill, the drive to strive for the other person; it’s the fiery part of love;"

"Commitment is the perseverance in this relationship, the determination to shoulder responsibility for the other person and for the family."

From Chen Lizhou’s gaze, he confirmed that the other had taken in these three concepts.

"Only when all three are present do we have perfect love," Nan Zhubin continued, then shifted the angle. "But in most marriages that have gone on for a while, some of these elements will be missing."

"And your love for your wife is incomplete but still genuine love; it’s not the ’not love’ you described. You’re just covered over by guilt and self-denial, and you’ve also overlooked the norm of marriage in its later stages."

Nan Zhubin paused slightly, his gentle gaze still holding on to Chen Lizhou.

Then, tying it back to the visitor’s own story, he unpacked it piece by piece: "First, ’intimacy.’ You went from campus to marriage, came together from a small town to Beidu, and have been together for over a decade. She understands how hard you’ve worked, and you’re well aware of how sensible and devoted she has been."

"What I see there is the tacit understanding and comprehension formed over years of being together."

Nan Zhubin smiled. "That is the most authentic ’intimacy’—not earth-shattering, but the most solid base color of love. And this is something you never truly lost."

Nan Zhubin went on. "Next is ’passion,’ which may be the most obvious missing piece in your relationship in its later phase."

When he said this, his voice sank slightly. "According to your account, your feelings later on became as bland as plain water, with no ripples. That indeed is a sign that ’passion’ has faded."

"Generally, in our understanding, ’passion’ primarily refers to ’marital intimacy.’"

Nan Zhubin tugged at the corner of his mouth, showing a mild, humorous expression.

Then he shifted the angle again.

"But at the beginning, when you worked yourself to the bone, staying up all night, drinking until you got a gastric hemorrhage—apart from putting down roots in Beidu, your original intention undeniably, to some extent—"

Nan Zhubin pinched his fingers together as if holding something tiny. "—also included the wish to give her a good life, so she wouldn’t have to suffer anymore."

"That persistent desire to give her a better life, that drive to strive hard for her, is also the ’passion’ in love."

Nan Zhubin’s expression shifted toward sorrow. "It’s just that, under the grind of daily trivialities, work pressure, and the distance between you, that passion has been slowly worn down, and the initial fervor disappeared."

Before Chen Lizhou’s expression could sink with his mood.

Nan Zhubin said, "But—this is a very common pattern in long-term marriages, or rather, in most marriages."

To emphasize this, he used many words with overlapping meaning.

"This doesn’t mean you stopped loving; it means love shifted from fiery to plain. The loss of passion does not equal the disappearance of love."

"And the strongest evidence of that is the ’commitment’ element."

At this point, Nan Zhubin’s voice became especially firm, and his volume involuntarily rose by two notches.

"You’ve had the thought of divorce, you’ve had crooked thoughts in your heart, but you never actually acted on them—you restrained your desires, you couldn’t bear to leave the child, and you couldn’t bear to abandon over ten years of shared life."

This was crucial.

"Even though your conflicts were heavy and your passion had faded, you never gave up on this family. That is the most precious thing in love—commitment."

"The reason you feel you’d be relieved if she were gone isn’t that you don’t love her; it’s that you can’t bear the conflicts and pain brought by this relationship, you can’t bear what you owe her, you can’t bear the grievance of ’my efforts not being understood.’ So you came up with such thoughts, as a way to escape the guilt and pain inside."

Nan Zhubin’s voice softened again.

"In the [Love Triangle], so-called ’perfect love’ exists only at the theoretical level, and even when it does appear, it may only last for a period of time."

Nan Zhubin first formed a triangle shape with his hands.

Then he slowly closed them, folding his hands together.

"And the feelings between you and your wife are actually very adequate, a classic form of—’companionate love.’"