Vice Director Li had something weighing on his mind.
He wanted to send the two psychiatric patients back—
back to where they belonged.
After years of working in hospitals, he could say with certainty:
these two were... terrifying.
Keeping them here was simply asking for trouble.
In just one day of their admission, the hospital had already suffered losses—
light bulbs blown, sockets fried.
All of it cost money.
Even if just small amounts, a few dozen, a few hundred—it adds up.
You'd need to snatch red packet bonuses for weeks to cover the cost.
Still, Li harbored a fondness for Lin Fan.
Not just because he had donated hematopoietic stem cells—
But because, over the years, they'd seen each other every few days.
Even a stray dog, if you see it that often, you'd feel something.
Feelings grow with time.
And frankly, thanks to these two psychiatric patients,
the hospital's doctors had become remarkably experienced in emergency procedures.
They'd racked up enough surgical hours to qualify as senior lead surgeons.
The latest lab reports showed something extraordinary:
Lin Fan didn't even need a mobilizing agent.
His stem cells had naturally entered peripheral circulation.
A marvel in medical terms.
But then again, maybe that's just how "special" mental patients worked.
Without delay, Vice Director Li gave the order:
Transfer Lin Fan to another ward. Begin stem cell collection immediately.
The sooner they finish, the sooner he could be sent back.
Yes, I love you—but it's the kind of love built on distance.
A few days apart makes the heart grow fonder.
Being in my face all the time? Too much.
In the hospital room:
Lin Fan lay on the bed beside a blood filtration machine.
Doctors moved busily around him.
Both his arms were pierced by IV needles.
One drew blood into the separation device to extract stem cells,
while the rest of the blood cycled back into his body.
Efficient. Waste-free.
One doctor sat beside the machine, pretending to be calm—
But inside, he was panicking.
Being in the same room as two psychiatric VIPs?
Terrifying.
He'd barely ever interacted with them before.
Just seeing the tubing near him was enough to trigger the image of one of them strangling him with it.
So, discreetly, he repositioned the wires.
Better not let them see that.
Old Zhang sat nearby, watching anxiously.
"Feeling anything?" the doctor asked, following protocol.
If the patient experienced numbness, calcium levels would need to be adjusted.
"Nope," Lin Fan replied calmly.
The doctor sat a little straighter, trying to stay composed—
But the pressure of sharing a room with these two was immense.
He'd rather be locked in with violent criminals—
At least they'd bare their teeth before attacking,
give you a second to brace.
Just then—
He noticed Lin Fan's gaze fixed on him.
A smile crept onto Lin Fan's lips.
He simply… stared.
Out of politeness, the doctor smiled back,
even gave him a thumbs up.
You're amazing, really. You're saving a life.
But slowly…
The chill crept in.
That look in Lin Fan's eyes made his whole body tense.
He lowered his head, avoiding eye contact.
Please… stop looking at me like that.
I'm a grown man…
But that stare—it's tightening my entire soul.
Old Zhang, ever helpful, picked up a banana from the fruit tray, peeled it, took a bite,
then held it out to Lin Fan.
"I just had a bite. It's really sweet—you'll love it."
Lin Fan opened his mouth and took it.
"Mmm. Very sweet."
"You ever feel like going back?" Old Zhang asked, his voice wistful.
"I kinda miss home—back at Qingshan."
At least there, we could run barefoot on the grass, chase the morning sun.
Here? We're stuck in a tiny room. No fun at all.
"I do," Lin Fan said softly.
Old Zhang rolled up his sleeve, pointing at his bare wrist.
"Remember I told you I'd buy you a Rolex?
Still saving.
Give me a bit more time—I swear, I'll get you one."
"Okay," Lin Fan replied with a serene smile.
He truly enjoyed spending time with Old Zhang.
He had tried communicating with others,
but they never quite made sense.
He could only manage shallow conversations—nothing deep.
But Old Zhang was different.
He always knew what Lin Fan was thinking—
Just like Lin Fan knew what Old Zhang wanted to say.
"Hehe…"
"Hehe…"
Old Zhang leaned on the bedside cabinet, chin in hand, head tilted.
The two of them smiled at each other for no reason at all.
Their grins were radiant, eyes squinting into crescent moons.
The warmth of their shared joy made the whole room feel cozy.
To them, it was comfort.
To the doctor, it was pure horror.
I can't stay here.
I need to breathe.
The doctor stood up slowly, cautiously,
as if any sudden noise might trigger… something.
Once outside the ward—barely steps into the hallway—
he exhaled a deep breath.
That pressure… that atmosphere…
How can they just stare and smile at each other for so long?
Isn't that terrifying?
He didn't understand.
But that look they shared—
It was genuine.
Like a mother watching her long-lost child eat at the table,
so moved she forgot her own hunger.
The child would protest:
"Mom, stop staring, I can't eat with you looking."
They wouldn't understand that gaze.
Not until much later in life.
But by then—
They'd already become someone who lived in the mountains.
A passing nurse saw Dr. He standing dazed in the corridor.
"How's it going in there?" she asked, teasing.
Dr. He forced a smile.
"Great. They're very… friendly. I love being around them."
Lies.
He was utterly terrified.
Ding ding!
A message popped up on his phone.
From: Good Bro.
Good Bro:
Hey man, I've got something urgent.
Can you lend me 10,000 yuan?
Dr. He stared at the message.
He didn't reply right away.
He didn't want the sender to see those dreaded three dots: "typing…"
10,000 yuan.
A tough ask.
He stared at the message for ten minutes, thinking:
If I don't lend it, how do I phrase the rejection kindly?
How do I show I want to help but can't, and still preserve the friendship?
Ding!
Good Bro:
Never mind. Thanks anyway, bro.
Instantly, he replied.
Dr. He:
Ah! Sorry, I was with a patient. Just saw your message.
Glad it's all good now.
Next time, just give me a call.
Phew.
That was close.
It felt like escaping a brush with death.
His spirits lifted immediately.
He returned to the ward.
The two psychiatric patients were still smiling at each other.
Old Zhang held an apple.
He bit one side, Lin Fan bit the other.
They looked just as happy.
But to an outsider…
It was downright chilling.
"Delicious, right?" Zhang asked.
"Yeah, really tasty," Lin Fan replied.
"There's one more left. But I don't like it that much…
You take it."
He genuinely liked apples.
Sweet and crisp—his favorite.
But Lin Fan liked them too.
And for a good friend, he was willing to give up what he loved.
"Let's split it," Lin Fan offered.
"No thanks. I prefer Sprite. Not really a fruit guy."
(End of Chapter)