Chapter 80

Screaming

Curly Hair left with her freshly obtained letter of thanks. Xu Chenzhu turned to Secretary Liu. "Secretary Liu — it's getting late. Go home and rest."

"Of course, Boss." Secretary Liu answered without hesitation. "Xiao Chao — rest well. I'll be back tomorrow."

"Mr. Xu — aren't you going home?" Chao Musheng said. "My temperature is normal now, and there's a nurse here. You don't need to stay."

"The doctor mentioned that colds from viral and bacterial infections can spike repeatedly. I'm not comfortable leaving you here alone." Xu Chenzhu looked at the sky. "The wind's picking up. You shouldn't be in it right now — shall we go back inside?"

"You have work tomorrow—"

"There's a rest room attached to the premium ward. I'll stay there tonight." Xu Chenzhu rarely took this firm a tone with Chao Musheng. "When you're sick, you temporarily lose the right to decide."

Chao Musheng's phone rang. He came back to himself and answered it.

"Mom."

"I'm not coming home tonight." He glanced sideways at Xu Chenzhu. "Something came up at the company — I'm staying late with my boss."

"Don't worry — I'm definitely not out doing anything I shouldn't."

He ended the call and looked a little sheepish. "Mr. Xu, that was my mother. She thought I'd be home tonight."

"She worries about you." The last of the sunset had gone from the horizon. Xu Chenzhu reached over and smoothed down the two pieces of hair standing up from Chao Musheng's head. "Let's go back."

*

You Jiu saw Curly Hair return, letter of thanks now in hand. "Curly Hair — the family member from room two had a scene at the nurses' station earlier. Be careful when you go in to clean."

The moment he finished speaking, the man from room two walked out. He looked at Curly Hair and You Jiu standing in the corridor, eyebrows raised, radiating the particular contempt of someone who regarded people in service roles as furniture. "Both of you — with me."

Curly Hair and You Jiu followed in silence into room two. A pale woman lay on the bed, connected to various monitors. The blanket had been pulled back at the bottom, and someone in nursing attire was wiping the backs of her feet.

You Jiu stopped at the doorway and turned to face the hall.

"What are you doing — get in here and mop the floor again." The man frowned. "Can't you smell something off in here?"

"Sir — the nursing aide is in the middle of patient care. My colleague is male and it would be inappropriate." Curly Hair took a careful breath. "Anything you need, please tell me."

"Fine." He dropped onto the sofa and crossed his legs. "Either of you can do it — just get rid of whatever that smell is."

She ignored him. She moved to the bedside and saw the aide preparing to remove monitoring leads to wipe the patient's thighs and arms. "The patient has serious open wounds and a fractured leg. Any movement or jostling could aggravate her injuries."

The doctor had specifically warned Curly Hair about the patient in room two that afternoon: serious condition, multiple monitoring devices and lines in place, not to be touched by anyone other than qualified medical staff. This aide did not look like hospital personnel.

The aide heard this and froze, looking helplessly at the man on the sofa.

"What does a cleaner know?" He frowned. "Do your job and stay out of it."

He looked at the eyes visible above her mask. His tone adjusted slightly. He pointed at the small table in front of him. "Start here."

Curly Hair smiled coldly to herself, walked over — and her letter of thanks slipped from her pocket onto the table.

"What's that?" The man reached for it.

"A letter of thanks from Mr. Chao in room four." She watched his hand. "Would you like to read it?"

Hearing it was from the patient in room four, the hand retracted. "No — no, that's fine."

He studied her eyes for a moment. "Why would Mr. Chao write you a thank-you letter?"

"Possibly because he saw that my work was difficult." She tucked the letter away. "Sir — I'll have the room spotless for you."

A knock at the door. The man assumed it was medical staff and pulled it open with impatience, then immediately arranged a smile when he found Xu Chenzhu's bodyguard standing there.

Ingratiating and irritated in the same face — the combination was almost comical.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, sir." The bodyguard's expression didn't change. "Mr. Chao heard that Ms. Xiao Juan is cleaning your room and asked me to inquire whether she'd like anything for supper."

Ms. Xiao Juan?

The man looked back at the cleaner. And the nursing aide.

"I'm not finished with the cleaning." Curly Hair moved toward the door. "Please tell Xiao Chao thank you from me."

The man's smile became impeccably warm. "If Mr. Chao is inviting you, please go — the room is perfectly fine, no need to clean further."

"That doesn't feel right." She hesitated. "I should probably—"

"No, no." The man held the bodyguard's gaze and smiled with some effort. "Don't keep Mr. Chao waiting."

"Thank you, sir. You're very kind."

Kind.

When the cleaner had gone, the man's smile disappeared. He turned to look at the unconscious woman in the bed, his expression twisting into something dark.

She wasn't dead yet. He couldn't afford to be kind.

*

Evenings in the hospital were quiet. Patients rested; visitors thinned out. The cleaning workload dropped sharply, and even the director stopped monitoring the players' output.

Curly Hair came back to the break room carrying the snacks Xiao Chao had given her. There were no beds — just a few retired patient escort chairs that could be pulled flat at a stretch. She settled into one.

You Jiu was in the corner chair with his eyes closed. He opened them when she came in. "The difficult man from room two — did he give you trouble?"

"No." She tossed him a bag of rolled wafer biscuits. "Here."

Xiao Chao had sent her enough for everyone.

"From Mr. Chao?" The hospital canteen had been a defeat. You Jiu had been hungry for hours.

He opened the bag, looked at the contents, and ate one.

Ding — HP +1.

"Thank you, Curly Hair." He looked at the pile she'd come back with, and couldn't keep the envy from his face. So this was what it felt like to have a powerful patron. No more HP anxiety.

"Where are the other three?"

"Getting their thank-you letters." You Jiu reached into his inventory pack and held out an A-class tool to her. "Curly Hair — if you have snacks left over these next few days, would you share some?"

Players entered an instance with a hundred HP. The system docked 20 per day. Injury meant more deductions. He was worried about running out before day five.

The canteen food neither docked nor added HP. But the lunch sent by Xu Chenzhu's bodyguards, and just now the wafers from Curly Hair, had both added to his total.

Which meant: anything connected to Chao Musheng had a chance of restoring HP.

When Curly Hair didn't take the tool, You Jiu kept his arm extended, unhurried. "The patient in room eight tonight was a new arrival."

Curly Hair raised an eyebrow but said nothing.

"It's Chen Fang from the Chen Garden instance. He's past the critical stage." You Jiu pushed the tool into her arms anyway. "Curly Hair — doesn't it strike you as strange? So many NPCs from the last instance turning up in this one?"

She examined it: an A-class identification earpiece, able to detect whether an NPC was telling the truth or lying. Half-hour usage, 48-hour cooldown. Genuinely useful.

He was being too generous. She had to wonder what he actually wanted.

"Say what you're after."

"I appreciate the directness. I want to know — when the last instance collapsed, how did you and the large one leave?"

"Didn't you also leave successfully?"

"I used a Forced Exit card." No concealment in his tone. "The system told me to eliminate Mr. Chao."

The look Curly Hair turned on You Jiu had something lethal in it.

"I wouldn't move against Mr. Chao. But failing the mission meant death, so the card was the only option." He sighed. "Curly Hair — I do know which lines I won't cross."

She threw the tool back to him. "I don't need these things. Keep it."

The other two players returned, expressions relatively content — whatever method they'd used for the thank-you letters had apparently worked.

Only Qi Shi had not come back.

*

Qi Shi stood on the open corridor balcony and looked out at the city at night.

Not the dense fog common to instances — a sweep of lights stretching in every direction, roads branching outward to the horizon with no visible end.

As if you could walk out along any one of them and go somewhere truly far. Far enough to leave the instance's reach behind.

A plane crossed the sky. Its navigation lights blinked steadily.

A peculiar thought came to him: if he walked out of the hospital grounds right now, would the instance stop him?

The door to room four opened. He straightened immediately. "Is the room in need of cleaning?"

"Mr. Chao heard that the new cleaning staff needed thank-you letters." The bodyguard placed an envelope in his hand. "He hopes this helps."

Qi Shi held it, unmoving, until the bodyguard was gone.

Ding — daily mission complete. 200 points awarded.

He opened it. The handwriting inside was precise and fluid — a few lines, describing the work he'd done that day in quiet, specific detail.

He looked at it for a long time before folding it carefully and placing it in his pocket.

*

Deep in the night, Xu Chenzhu opened his eyes in the rest room, came out quickly, and pressed a hand to Chao Musheng's forehead.

High fever again. As expected.

He found the thermometer on the table, took Chao Musheng's temperature: 39.1.

He pressed the call bell, then leaned his own forehead against the burning skin of Chao Musheng's, and let a scatter of faint luminescence sink from his brow into Chao Musheng's body.

When he straightened, he covered his eyes — which had gone gold — and his complexion was several shades paler.

Chao Musheng woke to the taste of something bitter. He opened his eyes to several white-coated figures standing beside the bed, and Xu Chenzhu in the chair by the headboard — neat and composed in almost every circumstance — with his hair disordered and his collar folded inside out.

"Temperature has come down to 37.5," the doctor told him. "Mr. Chao — is there anything still uncomfortable?"

Chao Musheng shook his head slowly. His throat felt dry and bitter.

"Have some water." Xu Chenzhu had a cup in one hand and was helping him upright with the other. "Slowly."

Chao Musheng bit down on the straw and drank — and the bitter aftertaste of the medicine finally receded. "Mr. Xu—"

A girl's scream broke down the corridor.

"You — you piece of trash — you're the one who hurt my mom!"

Chao Musheng sat up immediately and looked toward the door.

Xu Chenzhu sighed, found his slippers and put them on his feet, and draped his jacket around his shoulders. "Come on. Let's go see."