Who would study psychology unless they had some issues?! Chapter 759 - 650: Is It Really That Easy?

Aunt Zhang is an individual whom both Nan Zhubin and Uncle Chen are extrely concerned about.

The situation is also the most critical.

At this mont, she is curled up on the ground in an opisthotonos position, chest heaving violently yet unable to achieve effective ventilation, her hands clasped tightly around her throat like rusted iron clamps, with fingernails almost embedded into the skin of her neck.

In just the few minutes that Nan Zhubin guided the villagers to wash their hands and took control of the situation, her complexion had rapidly changed from initially flushed to cyanotic, with small white froth erging from the corners of her mouth and a hissing airflow sound coming from her throat, her eyes rolling white due to lack of oxygen.

This is not truly a foreign object obstructing the throat. From a physiological perspective, it’s acute anxiety triggering intense excitent of the sympathetic nervous system, leading to laryngeal muscle spasms, while hyperventilation worsens the subjective sensation of suffocation;

On the psychological level, after losing the "Dragon King’s protection," Aunt Zhang’s inner fear of trauma has been materialized as the physical symptom of "miasma strangling the throat," thus forming a vicious cycle between physiology and psychology—the more fear, the more spasm, the more spasm, the more convinced of the existence of "miasma."

This frightening appearance keeps two social workers who have received ergency training hovering around her.

"Aunt Zhang, Aunt Zhang! Can you hear ?"

Seeing no response, one social worker imdiately knelt beside Aunt Zhang, gently lifting her chin to try opening the airway with a chin-lift maneuver; the other social worker quickly spread an anti-moisture mat underneath Aunt Zhang to prevent heat loss, their actions seamless, as if rehearsed hundreds of tis.

However, the crisis did not ease in the slightest, with Aunt Zhang’s spasms increasingly worsening. After confirming there was no foreign object in her mouth, the social worker who initially tried the chin-lift maneuver decisively changed tactics, placing both hands stacked together below Aunt Zhang’s xiphisternum and delivering rapid upward thrusts.

Yet each thrust was nullified by Aunt Zhang’s unconscious muscle tensing, making her grip even tighter due to external stimulation, turning her complexion a deeper purple in an instant. Another social worker tried to ventilate from the outside but was pushed away by Aunt Zhang’s violent head movents.

The on-site rescue equipnt was too rudintary to provide further treatnt for Aunt Zhang.

"Ah... is that Teacher Nan? Please lend a hand, we should move Aunt Zhang now, the situation is urgent, we..."

The rescue worker’s eyes lit up as they noticed Nan Zhubin free to assist, along with Chonghui and others approaching.

However, Nan Zhubin didn’t follow their suggestion to move Aunt Zhang.

Just as they said, the situation is indeed "urgent" now.

If this physiological and psychological spiral continues, the ti will be more pressing than imagined.

Nan Zhubin crouched down, not rashly trying to pry Aunt Zhang’s hands apart, but first gently touched her cheek with the back of his fingers—a touch softer than the palm, carrying the normal warmth of the human body.

At this mont, Aunt Zhang was in a state of [dissociative anxiety episode], her mind filled with terrifying hallucinations of "miasma strangling the throat," instinctively resisting any "forced intervention." anwhile, the gentle touch of the back of a finger provides a low-intensity somatic stimulus that can both awaken her sense of reality through skin tactile receptors and avoid triggering resistance like palm pressure, laying the trust foundation for subsequent interventions.

"Aunt Zhang, can you hear ?"

Nan Zhubin’s voice wasn’t loud, but when he spoke, the anxious social workers nearby couldn’t help but shiver. They felt that the voice seed to have its own intent, drilling into their minds through the ears.

dical knowledge told this social worker that patients in such a state should hear nothing; however, she inexplicably felt that if it were Nan Zhubin, perhaps it would indeed be different.

In the next second, not knowing if it was a hallucination, she thought Aunt Zhang’s struggle seed to lessen slightly.

"I know your throat feels strangled, that’s because the miasma ford from moisture has wrapped around it," continued Nan Zhubin. "I brought the ’Clear Miasma Dew’ given by our Dragon King; one use, and you’ll be fine."

As he spoke, he leisurely unscrewed what he held in his hand—

It was a bottle of peppermint oil.

Is this... "Clear Miasma Dew"?

The social worker blinked, feeling like there were two little people fighting in her head.

Nan Zhubin dabbed a little of the dicinal liquid with his fingertip, accurately touching it beside the philtrum under Aunt Zhang’s nose—not pressing directly on the philtrum, just half a centiter beside it.

"Ah... Achoo!"

The social worker’s eyes widened, Aunt Zhang sneezed? Given her previous state, it shouldn’t have been a reaction she could make voluntarily, right? Was the suffocating state just a pretense?

Yet inside, Nan Zhubin nodded slightly.

Peppermint oil can strongly stimulate the cold receptors in the nasal cavity, triggering a reflexive sneeze—which in turn imdiately stretches the spasming laryngeal muscles, akin to relaxing a "cramped" muscle. It’s a key physiological stimulus to resolving laryngeal spasms.

Of course, the premise, as this social worker wondered, is that Aunt Zhang was not truly suffocating due to an organic disease.

Taking advantage of the pause when Aunt Zhang sneezed, Nan Zhubin’s fingertips moved to her temples, gently massaging in a clockwise motion. The rhythm was as steady as the ticking of the second hand.

He continued with that voice, almost capable of penetrating into one’s ears: "Co, Aunt Zhang, breathe with , inhale for four seconds—one, two, three, four..."

"Exhale for six seconds—one, two, three, four, five, six."

"Slowly exhale, expelling all the miasma from your throat."

Underneath the temples lies the temporalis muscle, which tends to tighten subconsciously during an anxiety attack. Gentle massaging relaxes the muscle, promotes local blood supply, indirectly reducing sympathetic nervous system excitability.