The orderlies were afraid of the two patients in Ward 666.
Past scenes were vivid in their minds.
"Are they asleep?" the director asked.
"Asleep," an orderly replied.
The director took a deep breath. The upcoming exchange would be complicated, involving a lot of specialized knowledge. Things like:
How to communicate with the mentally ill using professional terminology.The comprehensive psychology of the mentally ill.
At that moment, Lin Fan and Old Man Zhang sat up and looked at each other. "We're very tired," they said. "We want to sleep. Whatever you need, we're really tired."
They said they were tired, but they looked very energetic. The grease stains on their mouths glistened under the light.
"What were you doing just now?" the director asked.
"Sleeping," Lin Fan replied.
"Sleeping," Old Man Zhang echoed.
"Director, they weren't sleeping! I swear, it was really scary just now. He was holding a head, and he was holding a leg! They must have eaten someone!" Li Ang didn't believe them. He thought everything was a lie. I really saw it, he thought.
The director frowned. Arguing with a mentally ill person wasn't wise.
"Xiao Li, it was a hallucination. Just a hallucination," the director said, patting Li Ang's shoulder comfortingly.
The director observed the room. The lightbulb had been removed, and there were scorch marks on the ceiling. He knew Li Ang wasn't lying. Something had definitely happened here.
I know, he thought, but I'm not saying anything.
He took a cautious step forward. Crunch. He stepped on something. Looking down, he saw a bone under his foot, but it didn't look like a normal bone. It looked like a tooth from some kind of creature.
He had intended to interact further with the two patients, but now he cautiously retreated.
How to handle this? It wasn't simple.
He went outside and took out his phone, calling the院长 (yuànzhǎng - director/dean/superintendent).
After a few rings, the call connected.
"Director, are you asleep?"
"If you're not, please come to Ward 666 immediately."
"If you are, please come anyway."
"That's right, I can't handle this. Yes, we're all waiting here."
After speaking with the director, he stood by the door and waited.
"The director will be here soon."
Director Hao lived at the mental hospital.
He had just finished washing up and was preparing for bed, listening to melancholic music, when the phone call pulled him back to work.
Soon, Director Hao arrived, his face grave. His completely white hair told the story of what he had endured over the years. Still in his prime, he looked like an old man, his sleep constantly interrupted. Having dark hair at this point would have been a miracle. (Fifty-something is still one's prime, we're still kids.)
Ward 666 was the mental hospital's miracle, and also its most dangerous ward.
Ordinary people couldn't communicate with the patients inside.
Only he, the director, could manage them, and even then, it was sometimes dangerous. He had to be careful.
"Director."
"Director."
Director Hao nodded and looked at the other director. "What's the situation?"
The director leaned in and whispered, explaining everything, then pointed to the canine bone lying on the floor.
Director Hao entered the room, picked up the bone, and rubbed it between his fingers. He could confirm it was a canine tooth, but not from an ordinary dog. The tooth was thick and sharp.
He put the tooth in his pocket and approached the beds, keeping a safe distance.
"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice controlled, slow, and calm, trying to create a seemingly safe atmosphere for them.
"Sleeping," Lin Fan and Old Man Zhang replied in unison.
Eating meat? That never happened.
Director Hao had anticipated their response. He smelled meat in the room, like dog meat. Remembering the tooth in his pocket, he had a pretty good idea what had happened.
"Oh, sleeping," he said, smiling. He saw the lightbulb on the floor, the scorch marks on the ceiling, and the grease on their mouths.
These were all details.
With his professional experience, Director Hao had already pieced together the events.
He could hardly believe it. They had used electricity to cook food.
It was similar to his unpublished research. Many mental patients had higher IQs than average.
If they were so intelligent, why were they considered mentally ill?
Because low-IQ people were the majority, and high-IQ people were few. Outnumbered, their actions were deemed illogical by the majority and labeled as mental illness.
He didn't want to publish this research.
Because he was afraid, too.
Director Hao noticed a glow coming from Lin Fan's crotch. Taking a deep breath, he reached out with a serious expression.
"Hand it over."
"I didn't take anything," Lin Fan said calmly.
Director Hao didn't speak, just pointed at Lin Fan's crotch.
Lin Fan looked down.
"It's glowing."
"Yes, give it to me."
Lin Fan reached into his pants and pulled out a flashlight, handing it to Director Hao.
Director Hao remained calm. Last time it was a hammer, this time a flashlight. To these patients, these were dangerous items.
You never knew what they would do with them.
You just had to believe that in their hands, even a nail clipper was dangerous.
The sound of an ambulance siren wailed outside.
Beep! Beep! Beep!
Director Hao had someone put the lightbulb back in. He glanced at it. It seemed this would have to be blocked as well.
"Be good and go to sleep."
"Okay!"
Lin Fan and Old Man Zhang lay down, covered themselves with blankets, and pretended to sleep.
Everyone left the room, closing the door behind them.
The sound of two ambulance gurneys rolling approached, and several doctors in white coats hurried over.
"Where's the injured person?"
No need to say, no need to ask.
Asking was just a habit.
"You called the ambulance, you figure it out." Director Hao patted the other director's shoulder and walked away.
The director watched him go, his mouth open, wanting to say something, but not knowing what.
"Where's the patient? You can't make prank calls. There are legal consequences," a doctor said, impatient that they hadn't been told where the patient was. Were they being played?
The director looked at his colleagues, then pointed at Li Ang. "He's the patient. He needs to go to the hospital."
"Director, I'm not sick!" Li Ang's face fell.
The doctor waved his hand, and several colleagues grabbed Li Ang. "Whether you're sick or not isn't up to us. A trip to the hospital and some tests will tell us if you have a problem."
"I'm not sick! I'm not going to the hospital! I'm really not sick!"
Li Ang struggled and yelled, completely bewildered. What could possibly be wrong with me? Don't be ridiculous!
The doctor asked the director, "Is he really sick?"
The director thought for a moment, then said firmly, "Yes."
"Alright, you're a mental health professional. If you say he's sick, then he's sick," the doctor said.
Soon, the doctors left, pushing the gurney with Li Ang strapped to it.
"I'm not sick!"
"Let me go..."
"I'm really not sick!"
Gradually, the beep! beep! of the ambulance faded away into the night.