Early the next morning, Lin Chen was woken by his phone alarm, his head groggy.
He'd been up almost until dawn, and now he felt like he'd been run over by a truck. As he reached to turn off the alarm, last night's events came rushing back—not a dream, but real!
"Am I really a Daoist doctor now?" Lin Chen sat up, looking at the Seven Star Needles box on his nightstand, still in disbelief.
While washing up, he stared at himself in the mirror. Still the same ordinary face, black-rimmed glasses, messy hair. He looked nothing like a Daoist master—more like an overworked programmer.
"Forget it, better get to work." He sighed, packing up to leave.
Downstairs, he ran into Li Mei and Xiaoyu heading to school. The little girl looked rosy and lively, nothing like the half-dead state from last night.
"Brother Lin!" Xiaoyu ran over happily. "Mom said you saved me, thank you!"
"No problem," Lin Chen patted her head. "Just don't pick up random things anymore, okay?"
"Got it!" Xiaoyu nodded vigorously.
Li Mei approached, eyes full of gratitude: "Lin Chen, thank you so much. If not for you, I wouldn't know what to do."
"It was nothing." Lin Chen waved it off. "I'm off to work."
On the way, Lin Chen felt complicated. Helping people last night felt great, but he knew he was still a novice. Solving Xiaoyu's problem was pure luck—if something more complicated came up, he might be exposed.
"I need to study that book seriously," he thought.
At work, Lin Chen opened his computer and started coding as usual. But today, he couldn't focus—his mind kept drifting to Daoist medicine.
"if (isEvil(object)) { exorcise(); }" He absentmindedly typed, then laughed at himself.
"Lin Chen, what's up with you today?" his colleague Xiao Wang asked, leaning over. "You seem distracted."
"Nothing, just tired." Lin Chen quickly deleted the odd line of code.
Xiao Wang was one of the few people who talked to him at work—chubby, nice, but talkative.
"By the way," Xiao Wang said mysteriously, "did you hear? Our company is haunted."
"Haunted?" Lin Chen was startled. "What do you mean?"
"The 18th floor," Xiao Wang whispered. "People working late say they hear strange noises, see shadows. Last night, security guard Lao Zhang said the elevator kept going to the 18th floor by itself, doors opening and closing—scared him half to death."
Lin Chen's heart skipped. The 18th floor was the top, usually just storage.
"Probably just mice," he said, but was already considering checking it out that night.
"Mice can't operate elevators!" Xiao Wang rolled his eyes. "I think something's up. Maybe someone died there before?"
"Don't overthink it, just work." Lin Chen brushed him off, but was already planning to visit the 18th floor.
That afternoon, Lin Chen found an excuse to go up.
As soon as the elevator doors opened, he sensed something off—a faint chill in the air, not strong, but real.
The 18th floor was a big storeroom, full of old office equipment and computers. Lin Chen took out his copper coin and closed his eyes to sense.
There was something, but not strong—like a newly formed spirit.
"Interesting..." Lin Chen muttered, wandering around.
In a corner, he found an especially old computer, at least a decade old. The coin vibrated most near it.
"It's you." Lin Chen stared at the old computer.
He remembered from the book—sometimes, people who die suddenly or have strong attachments can leave spirits attached to objects. This computer probably belonged to a programmer who died from overwork.
"Bro, I get your pain," Lin Chen said to the computer. "But you're dead. It's time to move on."
Of course, the computer didn't respond.
Lin Chen decided to come back at night—daytime yang energy was too strong for spirits to appear.
At 10 p.m., Lin Chen was the only one left in the office. He took the Seven Star Needles and talismans and went up again.
This time, the chill was much stronger, and the air felt heavy with anger and resentment.
"Come out, I know you're here," Lin Chen said.
As soon as he spoke, the old computer turned on by itself, the screen flickering blue.
A blurry figure slowly emerged from the computer—a man in his thirties, wrinkled shirt, messy hair, bloodshot eyes.
"Overtime... more overtime..." the spirit muttered. "Project's not done... can't leave... can't leave..."
Lin Chen felt a pang. This was him—a programmer working late for little pay. If not for meeting Chen Daoming, he might have ended up the same.
"Bro, projects are never done," Lin Chen said. "You're dead. Let it go."
"No!" The spirit grew agitated. "Still bugs to fix! Still features to do! I can't leave!"
The temperature plummeted, old computers flickered wildly, crackling with electricity.
"Guess I have to use force." Lin Chen took out a silver needle.
Following the book, he dipped the needle in his own blood and drew a symbol in the air.
"Righteous energy of heaven and earth, expel evil!"
The needle glowed faintly. The spirit screamed in pain, its form fading.
"It hurts... it hurts... I remember now... I'm dead..."
"Yes, you're free now," Lin Chen said gently. "Let go of your attachments. Go where you belong."
The spirit looked at Lin Chen, eyes clearing: "Thank you... thank you for helping me remember... I'm so tired..."
With that, the spirit turned into points of light and vanished.
The temperature returned to normal, and the computers stopped flickering.
"Rest in peace, bro," Lin Chen said to the air.
Afterward, Lin Chen felt his understanding of Daoist medicine deepen. It wasn't just about exorcising evil, but understanding and resolving. The spirit wasn't evil—just too attached.
Back home, Lin Chen opened the Daoist medicine manual to study.
The book said: "A Daoist doctor heals the heart. Most suffering comes from knots in the heart. Untie the knot, cure the root—this is the true path."
"So that's it..." Lin Chen mused.
He thought of the spirit, of Xiaoyu's curse—these supernatural events all had deeper causes. The curse doll was fueled by resentment; the spirit by overwork and obsession.
A Daoist doctor's job was to find the root and treat accordingly.
"This is way more interesting than coding." Lin Chen smiled and kept reading.
It was late, but he wasn't sleepy. For the first time, he felt he'd found what he truly wanted to do.
His phone rang—a strange number.
"Hello?"
"Is this Lin Chen?" A middle-aged man's anxious voice. "I got your number from Li Mei. My name is Wang Jianguo. Something strange is happening at my house—can you help?"
Lin Chen paused, then smiled.
Looks like his Daoist doctor journey was just beginning.