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A week passed quickly...
On this day, busy with business, Mu Qingchen received a call from Feng Changxiang around noon. It hit him like a bolt from the blue; he had completely forgotten about their appointment yesterday. He had been so caught up in work all morning that it slipped his mind entirely.
Upon answering the phone and realizing it was Dr. Feng calling, Old Mu felt a surge of anxiety. He hurriedly delegated his tasks to his assistant Yan Lu and rushed to meet Dr. Feng.
As the saying goes, "If a child is not taught, it is the parent's fault." Old Mu had many issues as a father. It had been ten years, and the only connection he had with his son was through monthly calls for money—more punctual than credit card payments. His son was straightforward too; what once started as a lengthy conversation had now boiled down to three simple words:
“Dad, send money.”
Indeed, aside from fulfilling this obligation, Mu Qingchen couldn't recall anything else he had done for his son. This realization filled him with unease, and he instinctively avoided reminiscing about the past. Each recollection was a torment for him, and over time, he nearly forgot that this bond of kinship even existed.
He hurried out of the lobby. The Qingchen Hotel was located on Binhai Road—a three-star establishment that thrived due to its prime location. Every year during peak tourist season, it generated considerable income. For someone like him who had built everything from scratch, standing in front of the hotel always brought a sense of accomplishment. However, thinking about his son dulled that feeling significantly.
His expression grew tense; his gaze became solemn; his mood gradually worsened. The arrival of Dr. Feng likely meant trouble for Old Mu.
What if his son got into serious trouble? Had he stolen something? Or worse, had he abducted a girl? If it wasn’t one issue, it would be another—stealing and kidnapping all rolled into one. Mu Qingchen knew his son was quite adept in this area; from eighteen-year-old girls to thirty-eight-year-old women, he dared to try and charm them all with a surprisingly high success rate.
If trouble had indeed arisen, how much would it take to settle? A hundred thousand? Two hundred thousand? As he saw the car approaching, he braced himself for the worst. He rushed toward Dr. Feng as he stepped out of the vehicle, offering a friendly handshake and putting on a businessman's ingratiating smile—a skill honed over many years that made it impossible for anyone to express anger in his presence.
Fortunately, things seemed different from what he had imagined. As Old Mu began to apologize profusely, Dr. Feng interrupted him: “It’s alright, Boss Mu. I know you’re busy, so I brought some things for you to review personally.”
“Ah, that rascal hasn’t scammed anyone out of money again, has he? Don’t worry, Dr. Feng… I’m here for you. Whatever it is, just let me know.” Mu Qingchen reassured him. The mention of “review” made Old Mu’s heart race; he feared it might be another IOU written by his son.
“Let’s discuss it inside… Your mindset still isn’t right,” Dr. Feng said.
“My mindset?” Boss Mu asked in confusion.
“Yes. First of all, let me tell you that it’s not what you think; secondly, even if it were what you think, you can’t handle it the way you used to,” Dr. Feng stated seriously.
“I’m sorry! I’ve developed a reflex—whenever someone comes knocking at my door, it's usually because they’re bringing me trouble,” Old Mu chuckled awkwardly. Dr. Feng smiled back and added gently: “The reason trouble keeps finding its way to you is that you’ve always dealt with it directly. If you start refusing to engage, even if just once, they might reconsider whether they dare to come back... Just like how Chinese parents tend to pick up their children when they fall while learning to walk—always comforting them and trying every means possible to make them happy—while in the West, no matter how much they cry, no one pays attention. Their educational philosophy is that children need to handle their own affairs; if you keep picking them up every time they fall, how will they ever learn to grow up and walk their own path?”
Old Mu suddenly realized something, but it was just a fleeting thought. He awkwardly smiled and said, "That makes sense, but I've grown up this much already; I can't just go back and be reborn, can I?"
Dr. Feng laughed heartily and replied, "Of course you can! I'm here to tell you how to be reborn."
With that said, it seemed like everything was fine, and Old Mu felt happy. The two hurried back to Mu Zong's office, where Dr. Feng handed over the copied videos and pictures to Mu Qingchen. When Old Mu saw that his son had gotten a very short haircut, reminiscent of a labor camp style, he immediately felt displeased and glared at Dr. Feng.
"Are you really concerned about his hairstyle? Can't you let it go?" Dr. Feng asked.
Old Mu held back his words and continued scrolling through the images. Gradually, his eyes filled with tenderness. In the sunlight, his son was mowing the lawn; in the evening glow, he was helping an elderly man dressed in a hospital gown; in a steaming kitchen, his son was rolling up his sleeves to wash dishes. What moved him the most was a scene of his son strenuously pushing a food cart and serving meals. Suddenly reminded of something, Boss Mu felt tears welling up in his eyes, his expression sorrowful.
"What’s wrong, Boss Mu?" Dr. Feng was startled; he hadn't expected such a strong reaction.
"Nothing, nothing... It's good, I'm really happy... I know he did this on purpose to upset me. Actually, the kid has had it tough all these years alone out there and never told me how much he has suffered... Good, this is my son," Old Mu said, overwhelmed with emotion.
After being moved for quite a while, he couldn't help but ask questions. Dr. Feng was tight-lipped but revealed that his son was working as a caregiver in a hospital. As for the impact on his memory and thoughts, Dr. Feng assured him that there was no need to worry; he remembered clearly who he was and was now willingly doing these things.
Well then, there was nothing more to say. Old Mu listened until tears streamed down his face as he repeatedly thanked Dr. Feng until he could barely speak.
Heaven has eyes; this rascal finally managed to do something worthwhile!
Old Mu exclaimed excitedly while holding the tablet with tears in his eyes.
………………………………
………………………………
Hearing and seeing are always different; sometimes even seeing cannot be trusted as reality.
A thousand miles away, after numerous attempts and failures, Xiao Mu had adapted quite comfortably to this crazy environment. Just as he had adjusted to places with language barriers, different races, and varied customs over the years, this ability cultivated through subtle influences had become so strong that even he couldn't articulate how much he had changed after ten years of experience.
Was he not working? At that moment, he was strolling among green trees and blooming flowers, sneakily eyeing a blossoming rose when suddenly he reached out and caught a fluttering butterfly. Excitedly turning around to head back in, he was startled by an approaching head—Old Bu was grinning at him while gesturing at the ground where a basket full of twigs and fallen leaves lay. This was Xiao Mu's job, but through clever maneuvering, he had passed it off to the old lunatic.
"Oh, well done," Xiao Mu nodded.
"What about my reward?" Old Bu asked eagerly.
Xiao Mu rummaged through his pocket, pulled out a piece of paper, and casually tossed it over—a portrait of a foreigner with curly hair—handing it to Old Bu. Old Bu received it as if it were a treasure, carefully tucking it into the worn book he had with him.
It was a portrait of Karl Marx, the figure revered in Old Bu's heart as a man of faith.
"Marx said that labor is the essence of humanity. Work hard," Xiao Mu praised, clearly benefiting from his art studies, which had come in handy after all.
"Yes, only through labor can we realize the Chinese Dream. Anything gained without effort is shameful," Old Bu said seriously.
"Heh, only someone like you could have such noble qualities, Old Bu... off you go."
Xiao Mu complimented him and sent the old madman on his way. When conversing with someone like Old Bolshevik, having a theoretical foundation was crucial. Xiao Mu felt he fell short compared to him, so their discussions remained superficial, at most finding theoretical support to trick him into working.
Having done well cleaning the flowerbed, Xiao Mu carried a basket of trash and dumped it into the bin at the entrance. He had something on his mind as he sifted through the half-yellowed, half-green leaves in the trash can. Using his nails to split the fine stems, he pinned a butterfly onto a piece of paper and soon completed a simple specimen.
He intended to give it to one of the madwomen—the one who often bared her chest. Once finished, he stood up and looked around; in the courtyard, there were wails and cries mingling with laughter. The target leaned against the corner of the building, scrutinizing her world that had become incomprehensible and devoid of external perception.
She was a mortician; perhaps her love for beauty could evoke memories of her past. Xiao Mu tiptoed over to her side and suddenly presented the specimen before her eyes, excitedly asking, "Isn't it beautiful?"
The woman's eyes froze as if time had stopped. She stared blankly at the colorful butterfly on the paper—fearful, tense, yet hopeful—slowly reaching out her hand. Suddenly, Xiao Mu pulled it back, and she looked utterly dejected, gazing at him with an expression that seemed to plead.
"Look at me... actually, you're even more beautiful than it... Do as I say: like this... this is how you button it; like this... this will make you even prettier... If that's the case, I'll catch butterflies for you every day... okay?" Xiao Mu instructed her on how to button up. Surprisingly, she clumsily and hesitantly managed to fasten one button while staring dreamily at the handmade specimen in Xiao Mu's hand.
"Every day dress neatly and look pretty... this is yours; take it." Xiao Mu smiled as he handed it to her.
The woman received it with excitement and happiness, her gaze fixed on it as if it were something familiar that drew her in and captivated her.
Xiao Mu smiled; he had thought long and hard about this method. As he casually turned his head, this scene happened to catch Dr. Bai's eye. He waved away the reporting nurse and called out to Xiao Mu with curiosity. When Xiao Mu approached slowly, Dr. Bai asked curiously, "What did you give her?"
"A butterfly specimen... Hehe, a distraction, a form of psychological therapy. I have quite the opinion about your inaction; it just lets Tianlu flaunt her assets like that," Xiao Mu said.
"Do you think what you're doing is any better?" Dr. Bai asked nonchalantly.
"Well, it's better than doing nothing," Xiao Mu replied.
Hehe, Dr. Bai wore his usual sinister smile, and as he chuckled, he gestured for Xiao Mu to look behind him. When Xiao Mu turned around, his neck stiffened in shock as he bit down on his own fist. The Female Patient was pressed against the wall, her limbs spread wide, her expression solemn... She looked just like the butterfly pinned to the ground at his feet.
"Cognitive impairment. She used to be a mortician; after losing her normal cognition, she equated herself with the corpses she had made up, which is why she often goes around naked... Yes, you've discovered her vanity and successfully turned her into a butterfly," Dr. Bai said with a smile.
"Is there any hope for her? That's just so pitiful," Xiao Mu lamented, regretting that his efforts seemed futile.
"The wonders of creation are beyond what doctors can decipher about the secrets of the human body... For example, you—your records paint quite a grim picture: indulging in food, drink, gambling, and smoking; theoretically, you should be a heartless scoundrel. But why do you try to help a patient who has lost her cognition?" Dr. Bai asked with a smile at the bewildered Xiao Mu.
"There are laws against desecrating corpses, which means even the dead deserve dignity—how much more so for the living? Those male nurses come around to gawk at her; I refuse to believe you don't know about it," Xiao Mu pointed out sternly, unable to tolerate such behavior.
"That's where we find ourselves powerless; there's no medicine that can cure the darkness, ugliness, vulgarity, and depravity within a person... Don't be nervous; I'm not talking about you. Your mind must be purer than most people’s—at least above average," Dr. Bai said. Xiao Mu smiled brightly but was caught off guard when Dr. Bai pressed on: "So can you tell me why your past was so checkered?"
Xiao Mu froze; he didn't feel particularly pure or noble. Reflecting on his past misdeeds, he realized that the filthiness and darkness once represented another version of himself. Why did he now find even that version hard to accept?
"It seems you're beginning to gain insight; keep going and do well," Dr. Bai said with a smile, clearly pleased.
He took a few steps forward when unexpectedly Xiao Mu interjected: "Don't start with that; environment plays a major role in shaping character. Give me a mansion, luxury cars, and a horde of beautiful women—I don't believe you'd still act so holier-than-thou."
"Exactly; we must never let you return to that vulgar environment," Dr. Bai replied with a slight smile over his shoulder, leaving Xiao Mu rolling his eyes in exasperation.
Damn... plotting against me.
Xiao Mu thought bitterly. He saw things more clearly now; it was yet another scheme by his father who had bought off a bunch of sycophants to torment him. Enduring was one thing—this was intolerable. Dark thoughts bubbled within him as he glanced at the low wall outside the door; running out meant diving into a life filled with luxury cars and beautiful women—a life so tempting.
"Xiao Mu, time to get to work..."
The iron door clanged loudly, waking Xiao Mu from his slumber. He responded with a murmur and rushed toward the door. Exiting wasn't as simple as it seemed; he had to stand under the surveillance camera at the entrance and wait for his identity to be confirmed before the electronic lock would open.
Once outside, a line of food carts was already being pushed toward the cafeteria. Among them was the tallest, heaviest woman with the loudest voice—his partner.
Her surname was Gu, though he couldn't quite recall her full name. However, everyone privately referred to her as Sister Gu. The name matched her appearance and reminded him of Mother Bug from Water Margin. In reality, Sister Gu was no less formidable than Mother Bug; she could easily lift a bucket of rice in each hand and pour them into the food cart with ease. She pushed the heavy cart at an impressive speed, making Xiao Mu feel like just another helper—an optional extra in her efficient operation.
When mealtime arrived, Xiao Mu still had psychological scars from past experiences. He never expected that something as simple as eating would pose such a challenge for managing and treating this group of patients. Many were forgetful and lacked appetite, while others had become so despondent that they neglected to eat altogether. Half of them required assistance from nurses and caregivers; one had to physically drag them to eat while also preventing them from overeating or eating improperly. It was crucial to mix their food well; otherwise, they would either eat only vegetables or just rice, completely oblivious to any difference in taste. Just the day before, he witnessed a bizarre scene where one patient squatted down mid-meal and, without hesitation, relieved himself right there. Even more astonishingly, those who were supposed to eat continued without a care in the world.
As a result, he spent the entire day feeling nauseated and unable to eat.
Once mealtime began, the real challenges emerged. Caregivers started coaxing and pulling patients to the makeshift tables in the dining area. Some patients were particularly difficult to manage, like one who believed he was a mushroom and insisted on squatting in a corner. It took two caregivers to bring him back to eat. Then there was Old Bu, who needed convincing that "people are made of iron, rice is steel, and only by eating can we hope for revolution." The most challenging patient was one who screamed all day long; for this one, Sister Gu had her methods.
This scene played out daily—herding people back for meals. Sister Gu would swagger into the courtyard with her large frame and bowl-sized chest swaying as she marched forward. With a thunderous voice that shook the ground, she pointed at the loudest patient and shouted:
"Shut up! Come eat!"
Her voice boomed like thunder, instantly silencing even the most deranged individuals who would obediently return to their meals. As for those who didn’t take it seriously? Sister Gu would grab one in each hand and haul them back to the dining hall. The sight left Xiao Mu utterly astounded; coming from a Western education background, he found it hard to accept such blatant violations of human rights. Yet between ensuring survival and infringing on rights, he felt this might be the only way.
Yes, this was a mad world with its own insane rules—logic simply did not apply here.
As mealtime commenced, Xiao Mu would often glance at his watch; precisely at noon, the last group of patients would arrive for their meal. He noticed this pattern over several days—the group led by Professor Lu discussing Pyramid Schemes would line up neatly when it was time to eat. They marched in step behind Professor Lu while singing a song with lyrics that went:
“To Stand Out, we all came here.
The warmth of new and old friends is unforgettable.
Thank you to my friends for this great opportunity.
After twenty years of life, I’ve learned one truth:
When you have no money, no one respects you.”
The bright singing, confident strides, happy smiles, and orderly ranks made the team seem even larger. Mulin Shen watched and suddenly felt more pitiful than them. They were so confident, so happy; that feeling seemed distant, so far away that he had almost forgotten what it felt like.
Professor Lu walked at the front, full of spirit, occasionally turning back to keep the beat. The song continued:
"New friends, I advise you,
Never hesitate.
The glorious days await you ahead."
This was the number one hit on the Pyramid Scheme's top ten songs, titled "To Stand Out." Mulin Shen felt deeply moved by the song, often reminded of his father who hoped he would grow up to be successful and his mother who had already passed away. Each time the melody lingered in his mind, it left him in deep thought for a long while.
As the song ended and everyone took their seats under Professor Lu's guidance, Younger Brother focused intently on his meal, not needing any help from nurses or caregivers. After eating, they would continue with lessons, chants, and songs. In this chaotic environment, they seemed to be the most normal people.
With a gentle call, Xiao Mu pulled back his thoughts and appeared quite desolate. Unintentionally, he suddenly noticed Professor Lu once again looking at him with that familiar kind demeanor—elegant and smiling. So calm and confident that it made Xiao Mu feel ashamed of himself. He always avoided his gaze as if he were a patient too embarrassed to be seen...
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