Dr. Lin finished drawing a circle, lifted her pen, and looked at Shang Jianyao with a faint smile.
"This seems to be inspired by the 'Salvation Army' slogans, doesn't it?"
Shang Jianyao nodded and said seriously, "Dr. Lin, I think you've misunderstood my situation. You're treating normal things as evidence of illness."
Dr. Lin straightened slightly, her fair face tinged with a subtle smile.
"And what do you think I've misunderstood?"
Shang Jianyao remained silent for two or three seconds, as if organizing his thoughts, then said, "You can't comprehend pure and noble sentiments. You don't understand what it means to transcend vulgar interests."
Dr. Lin pressed her lips together tightly, evidently suppressing a laugh. She adjusted the gold-rimmed glasses perched on her nose, took a deep breath, and exhaled slowly.
"True, in this era, where is there room for idealists? Even the 'Salvation Army' has fallen from grace."
After a pause, she added, "I can try to understand you, but you must tell me—how did you come to have such thoughts? What events prompted such impulses?"
"No events. I simply think this way," Shang Jianyao sighed, then smiled. "Dr. Lin, you're the most gentle and elegant woman I've ever met. There's something I'd like to say to you."
Dr. Lin's brows twitched slightly. "I have..."
Before she could finish, Shang Jianyao continued, "I initially thought you could be a spiritual mother to me. But now I realize our thoughts exist in two completely different worlds. What a pity."
"Ahem!" Dr. Lin seemed to choke on her own saliva. She quickly picked up a ceramic cup from the side, drank two sips, and muttered to herself, seemingly to change the subject.
"Ah, the tea ration for this month is already gone."
Before Shang Jianyao could respond, she lowered her voice and asked mysteriously, "Have you recently heard sounds others can't hear? Seen things others can't see?"
Shang Jianyao shook his head decisively. "No."
Dr. Lin observed his expression for a few seconds before shifting to other topics.
After about ten minutes, a sweet female voice echoed across all floors simultaneously:
"It is now the top of the hour. The current time is 6:00 PM."
After the announcement repeated three times, it stopped. Dr. Lin rubbed her temples and said, "That's all for today. Since you're sleeping well and haven't seen things others can't, I won't prescribe medication. Come back at the same time next week for a follow-up."
"Okay, Dr. Lin." Shang Jianyao stood up and walked to the door.
As he pulled it open, he suddenly turned back.
"Thank you, Dr. Lin."
Dr. Lin smiled. "You're welcome."
Once Shang Jianyao had stepped out and gently closed the door, Dr. Lin sighed with a smile. "Such good manners."
She picked up the folder on her desk and began flipping through the records:
Name: Shang JianyaoAge: 21Date of Birth: September 8, Year 25 of the New CalendarFamily Background:Father, Shang Shian, was a Group D7 team leader who disappeared in Year 37 alongside the entire "Old Investigation Unit."Mother, Zhang Ruxin, was a Group D3 employee and primary school teacher who passed away in October Year 40, reportedly due to grief.From October Year 40 to September Year 43, Shang Jianyao grew up in the orphanage on Floor 495 before enrolling in university as an electronics major.
Case Summary:In May Year 46, Shang Jianyao volunteered for the classified experimental project "C-14," citing a desire for strength to investigate his father's disappearance.Experimental Results: Failure, with no discernible changes compared to the control group.Side Effects: Periodic logical disorganization, resulting in a somewhat erratic thought process. No other abnormalities observed.
Additional Notes: Genetic tests normal.Conclusion: Moderate mental anomaly (suspected delusional disorder, under observation).Follow-up Report for July 10, Year 46: Symptoms remain unchanged but have not worsened. No violent tendencies or aggression observed. Currently deemed non-threatening.
At precisely 6:00 PM, company regulations mandated the end of the workday. Only specific project teams requiring overtime and positions operating on 24-hour shifts remained active. Employees across the various zones—administration on Floor 5, research from Floors 6 to 45, manufacturing and maintenance between Floors 46 and 145, and the vast internal ecology spanning Floors 146 to 345—began returning to the 300-floor "Residential Area."
Due to energy rationing and the likelihood of dual-income households with working grandparents, many employees opted to dine in the "Supply Market" on each floor.
Divided into two sections, the market offered raw supplies—sweet potatoes, potatoes, rice, flour, meat, vegetables, and fruits from the "Internal Ecology Zone," along with fabric, sugar, and salt from the "Factory Zone"—and ready-made meals affectionately referred to as the "Employee Canteen." Though pricier than home-cooked meals and lacking in flavor, the convenience and savings on energy made it the favored choice after a long workday.
The company's higher-ups encouraged this trend, viewing unified dining as a means of reducing energy consumption.
By the time Shang Jianyao returned to Floor 495, it was still twenty minutes before the canteen opened at 6:30. To ensure fairness for roles requiring post-shift duties such as cleaning and sterilization, the Board had designated a thirty-minute gap before meals were served.
During this time, many employees gathered in the "Activity Center" adjacent to the Supply Market. Beneath the lights, they chatted about work and life, occasionally boasting about their relative comfort compared to the struggling masses outside.
Others seized the opportunity to trade surplus household items for contribution points, transforming the Activity Center into a small-scale bazaar every evening.
As Shang Jianyao entered, he spotted the Activity Center's supervisor, Old Man Chen Xianyu, perched on a creaky stool. Scattered before him was an assortment of curious items.
"What's this?" Shang Jianyao crouched and picked up a rectangular object with a metal shell and a cracked black screen.
"Who knows? But it's sturdy. Could be used to bash someone or as a makeshift bulletproof shield," Old Man Chen poked his chest with a grin.
"Where'd it come from?" Shang Jianyao asked as he fiddled with it.
Clearing his throat, Old Man Chen replied, "It's from the youngest son of a comrade. The kid's in the Security Department, just back from a raid on an old-world city. Time flies; I saw that boy born and grow up..."
Lost in reminiscence for a moment, he then chuckled, "Anyway, it's surplus—deemed non-essential by the company. He left it here for me to sell. You know, I don't need to queue at the canteen; people bring me my meals."
He managed several employees, after all.
Glancing at the spiderweb cracks on the screen, Shang Jianyao asked, "How much?"
"Cheap! Just 500 contribution points," Old Man Chen said nonchalantly.
"Ten pounds of meat," Shang Jianyao muttered, setting the item down slowly.
Hearing the word "meat," both he and Old Man Chen instinctively swallowed.