There's this recurring theme running through these chapters that I can't shake — the idea that everyone is performing, wearing masks, and survival depends on how well you act. Chu Youhuan performs fragility for her mother. Chu Songqiang performs panic for Zhou Huaiqing. Zhou Lifang performs remorse she doesn't feel. Even Zhao Chunrong performs the role of the forgiving mother while secretly harboring suspicion. The hospital ward becomes this theater where every interaction is a scene and every line is delivered with an agenda. But what's interesting is how the narrative treats this performance not as something negative but as something necessary. Chu Youhuan knows she's transmigration-bound, that she's borrowing someone else's body, and she understands immediately that she has to play a role to survive in this world. The text even reflects on this directly — "whether it was transmigrating into a book, borrowing a body to return to life, possession, or rebirth… These things were all too fantastical." In a society where feudal superstition is cracked down on, where admitting the truth could get you in trouble, performance becomes the only safe option. The envelope of money becomes a symbol of this — Chu Youhuan hands it back to appear selfless, but she's also testing her mother, seeing how far the performance can go. And the chicken soup, brought in a precious thermal flask, represents the genuine warmth that exists beneath all the performance. Not everything is fake. Some things are real, even if they're wrapped in layers of pretense.
