Luocheng City, Autumn.
In the hollow office, under the ghastly glow of the incandescent lamp, a middle-aged doctor pushed his glasses up his nose.
"Chen Ji, hello. I need to ask you some questions now. After you answer, I'll score your responses according to five levels: 'Not at all,' 'Slight,' 'Moderate,' 'Severe,' and 'Very Severe,' based on my judgment. Is that alright?"
"It's alright."
"Do you wish to end your life?"
"...End whose life?"
"Your own."
"No, I haven't thought about that."
The middle-aged doctor hesitated for a moment, "Do you hold grudges, find it difficult to forgive those who have hurt you?"
"I don't hold grudges."
"Do you often forget things? What do you remember about being twelve years old?"
Across from the doctor, eighteen-year-old Chen Ji's gaze drifted out to the darkness of the night: "When I was twelve? That summer, my desk-mate Ma Kai secretly took away one of my erasers. I really liked that eraser because it had a picture of Uchiha Itachi on it."
The doctor's gaze returned to the previous question about holding grudges, erased the "1 point, Not at all," and wrote down "5 points, Very Severe."
He scrutinized the young man in front of him. Eighteen-year-old Chen Ji had a fairly delicate appearance and, perhaps due to staying indoors for an extended period, had clean skin and clear, sincere eyes.
"Next question, can you bear loneliness?"
This time, Chen Ji finally paused to seriously consider the question. After a long while, he answered, "I can."
...
...
The questioning lasted for half an hour. When the quartz clock on the wall jumped to ten o'clock at night, the doctor said, "Last question, do you think someone wants to harm you?"
Chen Ji: "No, my family treats me quite well."
The doctor's eyelids twitched slightly, and he quickly noted in the notebook: 168 positive symptoms, 67 positive items, a factor score of 3.8. The patient developed severe 'Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder' with a tendency towards violence after the death of his parents.
"Chen Ji, the diagnosis indicates that you have severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and need to be observed in the hospital. A nurse will take you to the sixth-floor ward later. You'll need to hand over your phone to me; outside information could interfere and affect the treatment results."
"Oh," Chen Ji seemed unsurprised.
"You sit here for a while, I need to inform your family of this result," the doctor said, standing up with the diagnosis report in hand.
"Wait!" Chen Ji called out to him.
"What is it?" the doctor turned around and asked.
"I haven't given you my phone yet," Chen Ji took out a cellphone from his pocket and handed it to the doctor.
"I'm only keeping your phone temporarily," the doctor pocketed the phone, turned, and left the room, locking the door firmly behind him.
In the empty and dim corridor outside, only a middle-aged couple stood with anxious expressions.
The man stepped forward: "Old Liu, did everything go smoothly? Did he... notice anything?"
"Nothing; he still thinks you treat him well," Doctor Old Liu nodded, "This is the diagnosis report. You can go to court to have him declared 'incompetent to act' now."
The middle-aged woman smiled awkwardly: "Thanks, Old Liu. We'll treat you to dinner sometime."
Doctor Old Liu gave a hollow smile, "No need for dinner. I don't know why you want to declare him mentally ill, and I don't want to ask. But when the court reviews the case, I can overturn my diagnosis."
Chen Ji's uncle, Chen Shuo, quickly took out a bulging file bag from his black briefcase: "Count it."
Doctor Old Liu glanced inside the bag: "Fine, go back. I'll arrange for his hospitalization now. He doesn't seem to resist, but just to be safe, I'll call two male nurses over."
"Okay, I'm leaving," Chen Shuo took his wife Wang Huiling towards the elevator.
In the dim corridor, Wang Huiling asked in a low voice as they walked: "How much money did you give him?"
"Fifty thousand yuan."
"So much? He just sat there and asked a few questions. Why should he get so much?" asked plump Wang Huiling, her eyes bulged.
Chen Shuo, impatient: "Do you really think a meal would settle everything? It's only fifty thousand yuan, compared to Chen Ji's house it's nothing! Go to the court tomorrow and submit the application as soon as possible. Once he's declared incompetent, we'll transfer the house into our names first, to avoid any complications."
Wang Huiling whispered, "Can we trust Old Liu? We can't let Chen Ji escape from the hospital."
"Don't worry, I've heard the sixth floor of Qingshan Hospital is like a prison; he can't escape. Let's not talk business in this spooky place; it always gives me the creeps."
When leaving Qingshan Mental Illness Hospital, Chen Shuo inexplicably looked back.
In the night, twisted and dense ivy crawled along the building facade, nearly obscuring the windows. As his gaze swept over, he could see vague and shadowy figures moving within the gaps of the ivy as if many 'people' were watching him.
...
...
Chen Ji was flanked by two male nurses as they walked down the dim hallway on the sixth floor, with only the security exit signs on the walls providing a faint light.
This floor had no nurse's station, and at the end of the corridor was a steel door that required a code to open. One nurse covered Chen Ji's eyes while another entered the code.
Click – the door opened.
Inside was a spacious hall, with a single bed placed every one and a half meters. In the dim light, the rows of beds resembled coffins, numbering in the hundreds.
The next moment, black figures sat up from the beds, turned their heads, and silently stared in Chen Ji's direction.
"Don't pay attention to them, let's get this done and leave," one nurse spoke softly.
They laid Chen Ji on a bed and strapped his hands and feet down with restraints.
"Wait!" Chen Ji said.
"What now?" the nurse asked impatiently.
Chen Ji: "Don't I need to change into a hospital gown?"
"...Are you nuts?" the nurse muttered under his breath, then said to his colleague, "Let's get out of here."
With a clang, the steel door shut, and the room plunged back into silence.
Chen Ji twisted his head to look around; the windows of the ward were sealed with stainless steel bars.
Rustling.
The sound of fabric rubbing against bedding filled the room, followed by the sound of soft footsteps.
Chen Ji heard the noises coming closer, becoming more and more numerous and nearer.
"Isn't it..." Chen Ji opened his eyes in resignation and stared at the ceiling, "rude to just tie down me alone?"
With the pale moonlight coming through the window, he saw five or six heads emerge like turtles, filling his field of vision on the ceiling. Each dark, shadowy face bore a sinister smile.
Chen Ji: "It really freakin' scared me, cured my mental illness..."
Someone whispered, "What do you think, does he poop before meals, or after?"
"Let me give the United Nations a call," said a middle-aged man as he pulled out a calculator and rapidly pressed a series of numbers, the crisp voice of the female announcer was particularly jarring in the ward.
Before he finished, an old man held down the calculator.
"Reset."
All noise ceased, and the patients made way for the old man to pass through.
The old man approached the bed and bent down to look at Chen Ji: "You really came."
Chen Ji: "What do you mean?"
The old man took out a piece of paper: "Someone said that you would come here today."
On the paper, there was a pencil drawing of him, lifelike.
Chen Ji was solemnly respectful: "That makes perfect sense."
...
...
Those who end up in mental hospitals are either too dumb or too smart.
They're just eternally grappling with themselves in a world of delusions, inescapably tangled.
Chen Ji had a certain respect for mental hospitals.
So when he saw that sketch, he suddenly felt the world begin to grow mysterious: "My head's so itchy, feels like I'm growing a brain! Old man, did you draw this?"
"Not me, but I can take you to meet the person who did," the old man released Chen Ji's restraints while all the patients cleared a path for them.
At the end of the corridor, a young man sat on the edge of his bed, foolishly staring out the window.
"What's his condition?" asked Chen Ji.
"Severe delusional disorder. He always says he lives in another world, that this world is his dream. Then dissociative symptoms appeared, and he completely lost his mind," the old man replied.
"When did he come here?"
"He was admitted a year ago. He said you would appear today, to prove he wasn't lying."
Chen Ji looked in surprise at the old man: "What's wrong with you? Your thought process is especially clear."
"I'm not sick," said the old man.
"You sound a bit like a mental patient..."
The old man got irritated: "I'm really not sick. I committed some minor offenses and hid in here. If you don't believe me, ask me with a paranoia checklist."
Chen Ji: "Do you love your dad or your mom more?"
Old man: "My mom."
Chen Ji: "..."
He approached the young man with delusional disorder: "Hello?"
But the young man continued to gaze out the window in the darkness, without speaking.
The old man: "He hasn't spoken for half a year."
"What's his name?"
"Li Qingniao."
Chen Ji felt regretful. He looked closely at the silent Li Qingniao and whispered, "Old man, did he ever mention what that world he lives in is like?"
"No," the old man shook his head.
Chen Ji continued to ask, "Old man, has he received any treatment after being admitted to the hospital? Is there any way to restore his consciousness?"
"What's the point of treatment? Those who live on the sixth floor have given up on it; it's enough to just be alive."
"Huh? Not even to try resuscitating? What if he's cured?"
"There have been some who were cured," the old man stroked his chin.
"How were they cured?"
"There was a severely depressed girl who lost over thirty pounds in a little over a month after arriving. Later, her father won over twenty million in the lottery and took her out of the hospital, and her illness was cured."
Huh?
Chen Ji slowly turned to look at Li Qingniao: "I'll give you twenty million, too."
The Li Qingniao who had been silent for half a year suddenly said, "You're going to that world too."
Huh?
The old man's eyes bulged.
Chen Ji quickly followed up: "How do I get to that world?"
Li Qingniao fell silent again.
Chen Ji: "I'll give you another twenty million!"
Li Qingniao: "The people from the Northern Continent will take care of the smuggling."
Chen Ji: "Another twenty million... What's that world like?"
Li Qingniao paused two seconds: "You only have a little over forty million in your account."
Chen Ji: "???"
Bro, are you faking being sick?
He reached out to pinch Li Qingniao's cheek, but no matter what he did, Li Qingniao didn't speak again.
The old man, hunched and with hands clasped behind his back, asked: "Young man, why are you here?"
Chen Ji answered: "My parents passed away, and I've been somewhat shut off for the past six months, so my aunt and uncle sent me here."
The old man squinted slightly: "Young man, how much inheritance did your parents leave you?"
Chen Ji: "A villa worth over twenty million, and tens of millions in savings."
The old man pondered: "Then you need to be careful of your aunt and uncle. If they apply to the court to declare you 'incapable of civil conduct,' you won't be able to keep your assets."
Chen Ji's expression faded into the gloom of the ward: "How could that be? They're my family."
The wind picked up outside, rustling the ivy on the walls. The shadows of the leaves that filtered in with the moonlight flickered and danced on the floor, like black flames.