Qingshan

Chapter 3: A Fleeting Spark, Dreams Within

Qingshan Hospital, eleven-thirty at night.

Dr. Liu, the physician on duty, had just poured himself a cup of strong tea when the door burst open with a thunderous crash.

“Who the hell are you people?” Dr. Liu roared.

“Er Dao, pin him down,” Brother Pao commanded.

“Pin him where?”

“On the desk should do.”

Er Dao strode towards Dr. Liu and slammed the doctor’s head against the desk with a resounding thud. Half of the old man’s face burned with stinging pain.

Brother Pao pushed Chen Shuo and Wang Huiling forward, walking leisurely into the ward. “Chen Shuo here claims you accepted a bribe of fifty thousand yuan to conspire with him and have his nephew committed.”

Dr. Liu roared, “Help! Someone help! Security!”

Hurried footsteps echoed down the corridor, but Brother Pao remained unfazed. He simply removed his Tang suit jacket, slowly rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing arms covered in tattoos and muscle. Like a primal beast shedding its disguise before the hunt, anyone caught in his gaze would be wise to cherish their remaining moments.

The instant two male nurses appeared at the doorway, Brother Pao shifted slightly to the right to avoid an incoming punch. In the next second, his lightning-fast hook caught one nurse under the jaw, leaving him paralyzed.

Before the second nurse could react, Brother Pao darted forward like a jaguar and delivered another devastating hook to the man’s chin.

“Too weak,” he muttered.

Only after his words fell did the sound of two bodies hit the floor—both nurses collapsing like wooden poles, unconscious.

Brother Pao turned toward Dr. Liu, still pinned against the desk. “Anyone else coming?”

“N-no… no one else.”

“Ready to talk properly now?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Good. All three of you, squat in a line.” Brother Pao pulled up a chair, sat down, and crossed his legs. “Does Chen Ji actually have a mental illness?”

“No, not at all,” Dr. Liu said. “His thought processes are just a bit unusual, with minor violent tendencies and depressive inclinations. He’s not truly ill.”

Brother Pao lit a cigarette. “Strange. If he predicted your scheme beforehand, why did he still let you put him in there?”

Chen Shuo blurted out, “He wanted to use you to get revenge on us!”

Brother Pao shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. If he specifically sought me out for a loan, he must know what I do for a living. He could have just paid me to break your legs. Why bother getting himself admitted?”

Chen Shuo fell silent.

Brother Pao suddenly asked, “Did you kill his parents?”

Chen Shuo was on the verge of tears. “His parents died in a car accident. They even found the driver responsible. It had nothing to do with us!”

Brother Pao gestured for Chen Shuo to extend his hand and flicked the cigarette ash into his palm. “A seventeen-year-old kid loses his parents barely six months ago, and you two, his uncle and aunt, immediately plot to take his house? You’re truly worthless. And you, doctor—you’ve done this kind of thing before, haven’t you, old man?”

Dr. Liu hastily replied, “I’ve never harmed anyone before! The patients I’ve dealt with were criminals who wanted to avoid prison and came to me for a diagnosis.”

“Oh?” Brother Pao looked thoughtful. “What kinds of crimes did these people commit?”

“The most recent was a street figure named Wang Long who runs a construction business. Six months ago, he was driving and killed a married couple…” Dr. Liu suddenly abruptly, his eyes widening in horror as he looked at Pao Ge.

With a hiss, Brother Pao absent-mindedly pressed his cigarette butt into Chen Shuo’s palm. A scream of agony echoed down the hallway.

Brother Pao put on his black Tang suit and dragged Dr. Liu by his thinning hair toward the door. “Now I understand why he insisted on entering the mental hospital. Harming a child like this—you people are truly courting death. Er Dao, teach them a lesson they won’t forget. I’m taking this doctor to the sixth floor. I know Wang Long—he won’t be easy to deal with.”

Chen Shuo trembled violently. “This is a hospital! There are security cameras! You can’t commit violence here!”

Er Dao scratched the scar on his bald head. “Boss, execute immediately?”

“Do so.”

***

Snores echoed throughout the hospital ward as Chen Ji lay wide-eyed on his bed, staring blankly at the ceiling.

He realized that the dreams in a mental hospital were particularly vivid and perplexing. He drifted back to his childhood, hearing the rhythmic clatter of a green train pulling away from the station.

As a sickly child, Chen Ji’s dreams were often filled with the sounds of battle cries, forcing his father to repeatedly take him to Beijing to seek medical help.

When money was tight, father and son would buy standing tickets for the green-colored train. They’d sit in the space between two carriages. When Chen Ji grew tired, he’d curl up in his father’s lap to sleep. When hunger struck, his father would pull instant noodles from his backpack and wait in line for hot water, then cradle the steaming cup in his hands so his son could eat first.

When he woke up, Chen Ji would pepper his father with endless questions, his face pressed against the train window. His father would patiently answer every single one.

Later, when he turned twelve, his health improved, and his father’s business ventures succeeded, allowing them to purchase a villa.

During summer nights, his mother taught him to shine flashlights into the garden to find cicadas freshly emerged from the soil, which they’d soak in salt water before frying them until crispy.

During Lunar New Year celebrations, his mother would guide him in cutting paper window decorations, hanging couplets, and steaming beautifully shaped flower buns.

Lying in his hospital bed, Chen Ji wiped away tears with his fingertips.

Li Qingniao had appeared beside his bed without warning. “Now, sell me something, and I’ll answer another question for you.”

Chen Ji’s eyes were vacant yet profound. “What do you want to buy?”

“A cicada.”

“A cicada of what age?”

“A twelve-year-old cicada.”

“Not for sale.”

Just then, Chen Shuo’s agonizing scream echoed throughout the hospital from the floor below.

Time was running out.

Chen Ji leaped out of bed in one swift movement. He retrieved a dagger hidden in the bandage wrapped around his thigh, discarded the sheath, and rushed toward a specific area of the ward.

Fear gnawed at him—fear of what he was about to do and afraid of the consequences that would follow.

But he had no other choice.

Wang Long, driving under the influence, had struck a man and a woman and fled the scene. The victims died due to delayed treatment. The next day, Wang Long turned himself into the police, but had preemptively obtained a psychiatric diagnosis certificate from Qingshan Mental Hospital. When the court was about to review the diagnosis, Wang Long’s family gathered more than sixty dirt truck drivers to cause trouble at the courthouse. Eventually, the matter was dropped, allowing Wang Long to escape judgment and take refuge in Qingshan Hospital.

But how could he escape justice?

Chen Ji silently approached Wang Long’s bedside and drove the dagger downward with all his might.

Wang Long’s eyes snapped open, his strong hands gripping Chen Ji’s wrists. He sneered, “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you?”

During the legal proceedings, Chen Ji had always let his lawyer represent him, so he and Wang Long had never met face to face. But Wang Long, seeking a settlement with the victims’ families, had naturally investigated him.

So when Wang Long saw Chen Ji appear here, he knew exactly what the young man intended.

“I can pay you more money!” he said urgently. “A lot more! Your parents are gone—you need to learn to move forward!”

He didn’t want to kill again. If he did, he’d have to spend the rest of his life in this place.

Chen Ji silently pushed the dagger tip downward, inching closer to Wang Long’s chest.

“You’re courting death!” Wang Long’s strength far exceeded the young man’s. With a roar, he wrested the dagger from Chen Ji and plunged it into the left side of the youth’s waist, piercing his ribs.

Wang Long had expected this blow to incapacitate Chen Ji completely, but what he hadn’t anticipated was that in the moment he seized the knife, Chen Ji offered no resistance. Instead, he took advantage of Wang Long’s momentarily open guard to lunge like a wild beast at his carotid artery!

Blood welled up between Chen Ji’s teeth, staining the pillow a dark red.

Chen Ji tasted the metallic tang of blood in his mouth, the sensation of it gushing into his mouth and then flowing out.

Committing his first act of vengeance, his heart pounded with fear, but his jaws remained clamped shut.

Wang Long felt a searing pain in his neck, a jolt like electricity that sent shivers down his spine. This was the chilling premonition of death.

He pulled the dagger from Chen Ji’s abdomen and stabbed it back in viciously.

“Let go!”

“Let go!”

“Let… go…”

With each furious shout, each brutal stab, Chen Ji remained unresponsive, his bite only tightening, tearing a chunk of flesh from Wang Long’s neck.

Wang Long’s pupils began to dilate. As he twisted the dagger in his hand, he mumbled, “Was it worth it? Was it really worth it…”

But Wang Long didn’t understand. For Chen Ji, his life had ended with that car accident, leaving him trapped in an endless cycle of grief and despair.

Blood soaked through the white pillow, just as it had soaked through Chen Ji’s life.

With a click, the iron door of the ward opened from outside. Brother Ge, clad in his black Tang suit and dragging Dr. Liu by the hair, stood at the entrance.

Wang Long’s grip on the dagger loosened, his hand falling limply to his side.

Chen Ji raised his head, his face covered in blood, looking toward Brother Pao. Whether from fear or the aftermath of adrenaline, his entire body trembled.

Brother Pao sighed, “I came too late.”

Chen Ji slumped against the foot of the bed, clutching his wound. He whispered to Brother Pao, “I’m sorry.”

Brother Pao knew the young man was apologizing for using him. He grinned, “It’s fine. Though you’re dying, it’s not too late for an introduction. My real name is Chen Chong, but my friends call me Brother Pao.”

“Well met, Brother Pao.”

“First time killing someone?  Calm and collected before the act, ruthless in the act, and not a single word wasted. I like that,” Brother Pao kicked Old Liu aside and casually lit a cigarette.

Chen Ji offered a weak smile. “Still dying, though.”

Blood continued to flow from his wound.

“Want a smoke?”

“No.”

“Need any help?”

“My phone is with Dr. Liu. It should have recorded evidence of his illegal dealings with my uncle. Help me send it out.”

Brother Pao hadn’t expected that even on his deathbed, the young man was seeking justice against all who had wronged him.

He sat beside Chen Ji and asked, “Any other wishes?”

“No more,” Chen Ji’s voice grew weaker. Drowsiness swept over him, but he was reluctant to close his eyes. He just gazed absently out the window at the crescent moon hanging like a hook in the sky.

In the ward, the other patients slowly rose from their beds, watching in silence.

Li Qingniao approached Chen Ji and gently closed his eyes, “A lament from the depths, a fleeting spark, a dream within a dream. Even the Forty-Nine Heavens cannot hold you. Go now, go to where you belong.”

After speaking, he returned to his catatonic state, sitting by the bedside. Brother Pao draped his black Tang suit over Chen Ji’s body and turned toward the darkness beyond the ward.

“A pity we met too late.”