Qingshan

Chapter 1: Returning to Origin

Luo City. Autumn.

Under the harsh glare of fluorescent lights in a sterile office, a middle-aged doctor adjusted his glasses.

“Hello, Chen Ji. I need to ask you a few questions. After you answer, I will assess your responses and assign a score based on the following scale: ‘None,’ ‘Mild,’ ‘Moderate,’ ‘Severe,’ and ‘Very Severe.’ Is that understood?”

“Okay.”

“Do you have thoughts of ending your life?”

“…End whose life?”

“Your own.”

“No, I don’t.”

The middle-aged doctor hesitated for a moment. “Do you hold grudges? Do you find it difficult to forgive those who have wronged you?”

“I don’t hold grudges.”

“Do you often forget things? What memories do you have about when you were twelve?”

Across from the doctor, the eighteen-year-old Chen Ji’s gaze drifted to the darkness outside the window. “Twelve years old? That summer, my deskmate Ma Kai secretly took my eraser. I really liked that eraser because it had a picture of Uchiha Itachi on it.”

The doctor’s eyes returned to the previous question about grudges. He crossed out “1 point, None” and rewrote it as “5 points, Very Severe.”

He carefully examined the young man before him. At eighteen, Chen Ji had a somewhat handsome appearance, perhaps due to a prolonged period indoors, his skin was clear, and his eyes were bright and sincere.

“Next question, can you tolerate loneliness?”

This time, Chen Ji finally paused to seriously consider the question. After a long while, he answered.

“Yes.”

***

The questioning continued for half an hour. When the wall clock’s hands jumped to ten at night, the doctor said, “Last question, do you feel that someone wants to harm you?”

“No, my family is quite good to me.”

The doctor’s eyelids twitched slightly. He quickly jotted down in his notebook: 168 points positive symptoms, 67 positive items, factor score 3.8. The patient, after the death of his parents in a car accident, suffers from severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD) and exhibits violent tendencies.

“Chen Ji, the diagnosis shows you have severe Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder and require hospitalization for observation. A nurse will escort you to the sixth-floor ward shortly. I need to hold onto your mobile phone. External information could interfere with your treatment and affect its efficacy.”

“Oh,” Chen Ji responded, seemingly unsurprised.

“Sit here for a moment. I need to inform your family about the results,” the doctor said, picking up the diagnosis report.

“Wait!” Chen Ji called out to him.

“What?” the doctor turned and asked.

“I haven’t given you my phone yet,” Chen Ji pulled a phone from his pocket and handed it to the doctor.

“I’m just temporarily keeping your phone.”

The doctor placed the phone in his own pocket and turned to leave, carefully closing the door behind him.

In the dimly lit, empty corridor outside, a middle-aged couple waited anxiously.

The man approached the doctor.

“Old Liu, how did it go? Did he… discover anything?”

“No, he even thinks you’re quite good.” Doctor Liu nodded. “Here’s the diagnosis. You can now apply to the court to declare him legally incompetent.”

The middle-aged woman offered an awkward smile. “Thank you, Old Liu. We’ll treat you to dinner later.”

Doctor Liu gave a perfunctory smile. “Dinner won’t be necessary. I don’t want to know why you want to declare him mentally ill, and I don’t want to ask. But when the court comes to review, I can also overturn my diagnosis.”

Chen Ji’s second uncle, Chen Shuo, hastily produced a thick envelope from his briefcase.

“Count it.”

Doctor Liu opened the envelope and glanced inside. “Alright, you can go now. I’ll arrange for his hospitalization. He doesn’t seem inclined to resist, but to be safe, I’ll have two male nurses assist.”

“Fine, we’ll be going then.” Chen Shuo and his wife, Wang Huiling, walked towards the elevator.

In the dim corridor, Wang Huiling asked her husband in a hushed voice while walking, “How much did you give him?”

“Fifty thousand.”

“That much? He just sat there and asked a few questions. Why does he deserve so much?” Her cow-like eyes widened.

Chen Shuo responded impatiently, “Did you really think a dinner would suffice? Fifty thousand yuan is nothing compared to Chen Ji’s house! Tomorrow, quickly go to court to submit the application. Once he’s declared mentally incapacitated, we’ll transfer the house to our names before anything goes wrong.”

Wang Huiling whispered, “Is Old Liu reliable? We can’t let Chen Ji escape from the hospital.”

“Don’t worry. I heard the sixth floor of Qingshan Hospital is like a prison. He can’t escape. And don’t talk about this here; this place feels creepy.”

As they exited Qingshan Mental Hospital, Chen Shuo inexplicably looked back.

In the darkness, the twisted, dense ivy climbed the building, almost obscuring the windows. As his gaze swept across the facade, something flickered within the gaps of the ivy, as if many ‘people’ were watching him from within.

…

Chen Ji was escorted by two male nurses, one on each side, down the dim corridor of the sixth floor. Only the faint glow of the emergency exit signs provided any illumination.

There was no nurse’s station on this floor, only a steel door at the end of the corridor that required a password to open. One nurse covered Chen Ji’s eyes while the other entered the code.

With a click, the door opened.

Inside was a vast hall, with single beds spaced every five feet. In the gloom, each bed resembled a coffin. There were hundreds of them.

Suddenly, dark figures sat up on each bed, turning their heads to gaze silently in Chen Ji’s direction.

The male nurse muttered, “Ignore them. Let’s get this over with and get out of here.”

They laid Chen Ji flat on a bed and secured his hands and feet with restraints.

“Wait!” Chen Ji said.

“What now?” The nurse snapped impatiently.

“Don’t I need to change into a patient gown?” Chen Ji asked.

“What a nut case.” the nurse cursed under his breath. He turned to his colleague. “Let’s go.”

With a clang, the steel door slammed shut, and the room fell silent again.

Chen Ji twisted his head to look around. The windows were welded shut with stainless steel anti-theft bars.

Rustle. Rustle.

The sound of clothes and bedding shifting, followed by soft footsteps.

Chen Ji heard the sounds approaching him, growing more numerous and closer.

“Seriously…” Chen Ji opened his eyes and stared at the ceiling. “You’re only tying me up? How rude.”

In the weak moonlight, he saw five or six heads peek out, crowding his view of the ceiling. Each dark face wore a strange smile.

Someone whispered, “Do you think he poops before or after meals?”

“Let me call the United Nations and ask.” A middle-aged man pulled out a calculator and rapidly punched in a series of numbers. The crisp, automated female voice announcing the digits was startlingly clear in the ward.

Before he could finish, an old man pressed down on the calculator.

“Cut it out.”

All sounds vanished, and the patients opened a path for the old man.

He approached the bed and bent down to look at Chen Ji.

“You really came.”

“What do you mean?”

The old man pulled out a piece of paper, “Someone once said you would come today.”

On the paper was a pencil sketch of Chen Ji’s face, remarkably lifelike.

“Very reasonable.” Chen Ji respectfully say.

***

Those who end up in mental hospitals are either too foolish or too clever.

They are trapped in a labyrinth of their own minds, locked in an endless, inescapable struggle.

Chen Ji held a certain respect for mental hospitals.

So, when he saw the sketch, the world suddenly felt imbued with mystery.

“My head itches, 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 drew it,” the old man unfastened Chen Ji’s restraints. All the patients stepped aside, opening a path for them.

At the end of the path, a young man sat listlessly on his bed, staring blankly out the window.

“What’s his diagnosis?” Chen Ji asked.

“Severe delusional disorder. He always says he lives in another world, that this world is his dream. Later, he developed dissociative symptoms and became completely catatonic,” the old man answered.

“When was he admitted?”

“A year ago. He said you would appear today, to prove he wasn’t lying.”

Chen Ji looked at the old man in surprise. “What’s your diagnosis? You seem remarkably lucid.”

“I’m not sick,” the old man said.

“That sounds like something a mental patient would say…”

The old man retorted, “I’m really not sick. I’m hiding here because I got into some trouble. If you don’t believe me, test me with the Paranoia Scale.”

Chen Ji: “Do you love your mommy or your daddy?”

Old man: “I love mommy.”

Chen Ji: “…”

He approached the young man with the delusional disorder. “Hello?”

But the young man just stared blankly out the window, saying nothing.

The old man sighed. “He hasn’t spoken in six months.”

“What’s his name?”

“Li Qingniao.”

Chen Ji felt a pang of regret. He carefully observed the unresponsive Li Qingniao and asked in a low voice, “Old man, has he ever mentioned what that world he lives in is like?”

“No,” the old man shook his head.

Chen Ji asked again, “Old man, has he received any treatment since he was admitted? Is there any way to help him regain consciousness?”

“What’s the point of treatment? Patients on the sixth floor are beyond treatment. As long as they’re alive, that’s enough.”

“Ah? No more attempts to save them? What if they could be cured?”

“Some do get cured,” the old man stroked his chin.

“How?”

“There was a young girl with severe depression who lost over sixty pounds in a month after being admitted. Then her father won the lottery, a couple million, and took her home. She was cured.”

Ah?

Chen Ji slowly turned to Li Qingniao. “I’ll give you twenty million.”

Li Qingniao, who had been silent for six months, suddenly spoke, “You’re going to that world too.”

Ah?

The old man’s eyes widened.

Chen Ji eagerly pressed further. “How do I get to that world?”

Li Qingniao fell silent again.

“I’ll give you another twenty million!”

Li Qingniao: “Someone will be responsible for your transmigration.”

“Another twenty million… What is that world like?”

Li Qingniao paused for two seconds. “You only have about forty million in your account.”

Chen Ji: “???”

Dude, are you faking your illness?

He reached out to pinch Li Qingniao’s cheek, but no matter what he did, Li Qingniao remained silent.

The old man, hunched over with his hands clasped behind his back, asked, “Young man, why are you here?”

Chen Ji replied, “My parents passed away, and I’ve been withdrawn these past six months. So, my aunt and uncle brought me here.”

The old man narrowed his eyes slightly. “Young man, how much inheritance did your parents leave you?”

Chen Ji replied, “A villa worth over twenty million, and tens of millions in savings.”

The old man pondered this. “You should be careful of your second uncle and aunt. If they apply to the court to declare you mentally incapacitated, you won’t be able to keep your property.”

Chen Ji’s expression was lost in the shadows of the ward. “How could that be? They’re my family.”

Wind rose outside, rustling the ivy against the building. The shadows of leaves, cast by the moonlight, danced and flickered like black flames on the floor.