Chapter 6
Edward Quan ·
“No. We recently discharged a patient who caused quite an uproar outside. His story is in part four of Li Yunzhou's personal column on Zhihu. Go to his profile and open the pinned post.”
“That sounded painfully like an advertisement, Director.”
“Didn't it just?”
I reached Wang Ba in time to save him from the injection.
He knelt before me and raised the only arm he could still move.
“Please! Send me to prison! Let me rot there! Life imprisonment, anything!”
I laughed.
“I'm here to give you proper psychiatric treatment. Not to play house.”
Wang Ba sobbed.
“I was wrong! Please be generous! I'm not mad! I thought I was being clever! Let me go to prison! I'll give you anything!”
I kicked him aside and copied his earlier gesture, digging a finger into my ear.
“Everyone here says they're not mad. I've heard it so often my ears have grown calluses.”
“But don't worry. You won't die. I'll make absolutely sure you stay alive.”
“For the next few decades, everything you've experienced today will happen over and over. Only worse.”
“Welcome to...”
The psychiatric hospital.
At last, Wang Ba understood that he would never be discharged.
He collapsed in despair.
“I have an announcement. From today onward, this thing...”
I took another look at Wang Ba and chose a more appropriate measure.
“...this lump is your new toy. Available all day, every day. Just leave it breathing.”
All three applauded enthusiastically.
Caught up in the atmosphere, I took out my phone and changed the music again.
This time, a song about being one loving family, sharing in each other's blessings.
Lately, Zhao Yin had been restless.
Ever since he'd learned that Wang Ba had been sent to that hospital, he hadn't slept properly.
People in his profession were deeply wary of that particular institution.
Some called it a special prison for criminals the law couldn't touch.
Others called it the gateway to hell. Once you went in, there was no way out. Death was the only exit.
Countless people had investigated the hospital.
Even the best hackers had come back empty-handed.
Its director's background was especially mysterious.
Apart from his name, no one knew where he'd come from, why he'd opened the hospital, or how he'd subdued the lunatics inside.
It was February. A late cold spell lingered, and the ice refused to melt.
Yet Zhao Yin felt so hot that he'd taken his coat off early.
The moment he entered the office, dozens of eyes turned toward him.
Pity. Contempt. Pleasure at someone else's misfortune.
What was going on?
He kept his expression composed, but unease churned inside.
He soon had his answer.
A man was waiting in his office.
His age was difficult to guess. He was tall and straight-backed, his hair neatly cut.
He sat in Zhao Yin's chair, leafing through documents.
At the sound of the door, he turned.
The instant their eyes met, gooseflesh rose all over Zhao Yin's body.
His work had brought him into contact with plenty of psychiatric patients.
He'd seen more vicious stares than he could count, the sort that frightened ordinary people at a glance.
He'd long since become almost immune.
Yet one look at this man nearly sent him fleeing.
It felt as though a venomous snake had fixed its eyes on him.
Those calm eyes seemed to see through him, inside and out, piece by piece.
He couldn't help pulling his coat tightly around himself, as if that might conceal his petty secrets.
“Li Qingshan.”
The man introduced himself.
No title. No explanation of who he was.
Absolute confidence.
The confidence that no one in the world could possibly fail to know his name.
“Director Li. Hello.”
Zhao Yin held out his hand.
“I'm Zhao Yin, from the Third Hospital. We met at the last professional exchange—”
Li Qingshan had no interest in pleasantries.
He took out a sheet of paper and laid it gently in front of him.
“You issued Wang Ba's certificate?”
So that was it.
Zhao Yin swallowed.
As long as the process was legal and the paperwork complete, no one could find fault.
What did it matter if this was Li Qingshan?
The thought steadied him a little.
“Wu Fan. Chen Youzhi. Chu Yu. Liang Jiahao...”
One sheet after another went onto the desk.
They made no sound.
To Zhao Yin, each landed like thunder.
Every shameful thing he'd done over the years was being dug out by the roots.
“You issued these certificates too?”
Li Qingshan's voice remained calm, betraying neither pleasure nor anger.
It was clearly a question.
Zhao Yin could summon no impulse to deny it.
He gritted his teeth.
“All of these cases were handled legally and reasonably, according to the proper procedures. I don't understand why you're suddenly asking me about this, Director Li.”
He stressed “legally” and “proper procedures,” each word sounding firm.
His trembling voice had already betrayed him.
“Hm.”
Li Qingshan gave a quiet laugh.
“You and I both know whether there's anything wrong with those cases. Let's stop wasting time.”
“I'm only here to tell Dr. Zhao to get ready. You're transferring to our hospital for treatment.”
“As a fellow professional, I promise you'll receive the very best care.”
Zhao Yin shot to his feet.
“I'm not mentally ill! Why should I go to your hospital?”
Li Qingshan leaned back, studying his furious face with interest.
His voice was soft.
“No. You're not.”
“But I can make you a psychiatric patient.”
“Just as you did.”
No one doubted Li Qingshan's word.
Zhao Yin knew he was finished.
The heart that had hung suspended in dread finally went utterly still.
The End.
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