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墨書 Inktalez
"Today is the fourth day of hospitalization. Temperature normal, emotions stable, no signs of resistance."
Dr. Bai typed this line and then clicked to send the document, along with several captured videos and images, to the other end of the computer.
On the other end was Feng Changxiang, who had once served as the deputy director of this psychiatric hospital. Only the two of them were aware of this special treatment plan. Dr. Bai glanced at the photos of Lin Musheng, who appeared desolate, and felt a twinge of sympathy. A wealthy young man accustomed to a life of ease was now confined as a mental patient; one could only imagine the immense psychological pressure he must be experiencing.
"Don't be deceived by surface appearances. Based on his experiences, his ability to withstand pressure should be extraordinary," Feng Changxiang's reply came back, accompanied by a brief profile of the individual.
Expelled from high school, charged with drunk driving, visiting the red-light district in the Netherlands, attending Ueno Chicken University in America, and various misdeeds in Binhai City—Dr. Bai's fleeting sympathy evaporated in an instant.
"Oh, what a colorful personality... Dr. Feng, your hypnosis treatment seems to have had little effect; it merely triggered his subconscious to identify himself as Lin Musheng. The impact on his past memories is minimal... By the way, he has tattoos and seems to have some understanding of psychological treatment," Dr. Bai remarked. He began to feel a headache coming on; the complexity of experiences had led to a diversification of personality, like a white sheet already covered in graffiti—finding a blank spot was becoming increasingly difficult.
"Then let him learn about submission and compliance. It might be necessary to give him some physical training or labor to help him adapt to an ordinary person's life; this will benefit his character transformation," Feng Changxiang wrote.
"Alright, after being confined for a few days, he seems more docile... But there won't be any legal issues, will there?" Dr. Bai asked.
"His father signed the treatment consent form, and he indeed has psychological issues... As for what happens during treatment, do you think anyone would believe a mental patient calling the police? Or does he even have the opportunity to report it?" Dr. Feng replied.
With family consent secured, Dr. Bai felt reassured. He sent an image and then Feng Changxiang requested access to the surveillance feed. Dr. Bai connected the video directly to Room 7452.
On screen, Lin Musheng's silhouette was visible; he stood on the bed, leaning against a high windowsill, gazing out at the scenery without moving for quite some time.
The scene evoked a sense of pity; he was alone, both in life and in spirit.
Dr. Bai thought to himself that after the video ended, he would need to get up and consider the next plan. It couldn't go on like this, especially since that kid had become much more obedient lately...
Was he obedient?
Mulin Shen was lying on the windowsill, his eyes darting around, his brows furrowing in thought. He was mentally rehearsing a scenario:
The hospital covered about 100 acres, with the inpatient department and medical area separated. Over the past few days, he had seen a total of 54 doctors coming and going, and there were 44 active mental patients each day. If he wanted to escape, he would have to quietly slip out of the isolation area, avoid the surveillance on the walls, and then deal with the doctors and security in the outer medical area—he didn't even know how many there were... Damn it, the staff at this mental hospital were as formidable as city management officers. He had already witnessed several patients being forcibly returned in bags.
At fifteen, he had traveled alone overseas. In Singapore, a country he disliked immensely, he had to endure the disdainful looks from those self-proclaimed superior Chinese. It was a civilized nation, so civilized that they looked down on him as an inferior from the mainland. In the Netherlands, a land of freedom, it was easy to encounter gangs who would sell you drugs, firearms, or prostitutes; sometimes they would skip all that and just extort or rob you outright. In America, he had been robbed and harassed by both white and black criminals. Behind every civilized facade lay a murky underbelly—a truth that Mulin Shen understood all too well despite his fondness for nightlife.
What puzzled him most was why he was subjected to such treatment. A few days were enough for him to realize that the only reason he was here was his father.
Yes, that father who hoped for his son to become a dragon could no longer tolerate him. But what Mulin Shen couldn't comprehend was how heartless one must be to send their own son to a mental hospital.
Perhaps it was because those closest hurt you the most; Mulin Shen found himself lost in thoughts of an unforgettable moment in his life—his mother, always so beautiful and gentle, had exhausted her last bit of strength for her family: husband and son. She had grown pale, helpless, and emaciated. When she passed away, she held onto his hand tightly; by then, illness had ravaged her body so much that she left no final words behind.
Pancreatic cancer is excruciatingly painful, yet in his memories, Mulin Shen only recalled his mother's smile from her sickbed. It took him many years to understand how much endurance she must have summoned to bear such suffering without leaving even a shadow of pain in her son's heart.
He remembered that soon after her death, another woman entered their home. He had always regarded her and his father with cold indifference; he hated that woman so much that he began to hate his father too. He skipped school, smoked cigarettes, stole things—he constantly sought ways to embarrass his father. Each awkward encounter with his father inexplicably gave him a sense of pleasure... No matter how difficult it was or how much suffering it brought him, he willingly pursued this thrill as if it had become the goal of his life.
He knew that this goal was wrong. Yet, there was an uncontrollable emotion driving him, leading him to make one mistake after another. In the end, he arrived at such a result.
"This old guy... wants to lock me up for his own peace of mind, but I won't let you have your way."
A thought surged in Mulin Shen's mind again. After moving past the initial panic and anger, he began to examine possible alternatives, just like countless times before when he faced challenges alone. There was no one to help him; he had to find a way to solve it himself.
Bang... bang... The door echoed as Mulin Shen sat down, thinking it was just another meal or medication delivery. He settled on the bed, only to be surprised by the entrance of Dr. Bai. At this point, he was already familiar with this face—forty years had passed, and the doctor had gained weight, wearing a white coat with particularly large pockets as if waiting for everyone to stuff red envelopes into them. He always wore that kind of gentle smile that felt like spring sunshine.
"Do you remember your name?" Dr. Bai asked.
"My name is Lin Musheng, and I'm a chef; my dad is Lin Qingchen, also a chef... um, I have a mental illness, I'm a patient with delusions, and I will definitely cooperate with the doctor's treatment," Mulin Shen replied with a defeated expression, biting his back teeth.
Under someone's roof, one must bow their head.
Dr. Bai looked at him with a smile for a few moments before suddenly saying, "I am the only one in this hospital who knows you are not a patient."
"Fuck your mother," Mulin Shen was taken aback by this statement and glared angrily at Dr. Bai. However, Dr. Bai continued, "But if you exhibit any extreme behavior, emotions, or language, you will be treated as a mental patient... The floors above are occupied by restricted patients who can't leave their rooms all year round. Those deemed to have violent tendencies receive this kind of treatment. You don't want to be locked up there for a year, do you?"
Mulin Shen shivered, goosebumps rising all over his body. The doctor's actions were reasonable and legal. He forced a humble smile and said, "How could that be? Medical studies show that over seventy percent of humans suffer from various mental illnesses; it's really just a matter of severity... For example, anxiety, anger, worry, and tension can all be classified as mental disorders. Truly mentally healthy individuals must either be idiots or fools."
"What are you trying to say? I don't need you to teach me such basic theories," Dr. Bai replied.
"What I want to say is, Dr. Bai, I do have an illness... and I need you to teach me how to recover," Mulin Shen said respectfully.
The doctor's approval was won over by this attitude. He gazed for a long time at the young man sitting upright, calm and handsome. The composure and upbringing made him forget the young man's past misdeeds, and he smiled as he allowed him to step outside... a mild patient, non-aggressive, eligible for the privilege of free movement and sunbathing.
Finally, conditions had improved. Mulin Shen, wearing slippers, eagerly followed the doctor out into the open air, impatiently inhaling a breath of fresh air. He stretched his arms towards the sun, basking in its warm glow with great contentment.
Indeed, when one has nothing, enjoyment is reduced to the bare minimum—just fresh air and sunlight.
"You can try to escape if you want. This is the Provincial Psychiatric Specialty Hospital, with forty trained security guards, a hundred professional doctors, and over thirty nurses. There are more than four hundred patients across three wards, and there has never been an escape incident... If we're talking about strict supervision, this hospital is among the top in the country. You can give it a shot; these professional doctors have hundreds of methods for dealing with crazies," Dr. Bai whispered in his ear.
Mulin Shen shivered at those words. With bags secured, ropes tied, and electric batons ready, even a bear would end up on the ground foaming at the mouth if they tried to escape. Having considered this, Mulin Shen smiled and said, "With food and shelter provided, how could I possibly escape?"
"Is that so? Just a reminder: if you do decide to escape, be prepared. This place is in the mountains, thirty-seven kilometers from the nearest city center, with no transportation or places to eat along the way... As for your hometown of Binhai City... let me calculate... it should be over eight hundred kilometers away. Getting back will be quite difficult and costly," Dr. Bai replied.
Uh… Mulin Shen hesitated for a moment, then thought about how he had been sent so far without realizing it and hesitated again.
He was frightened; in this place where everything had been thoroughly searched and cleaned out, he was left with just a thin shirt and a pair of slippers. It seemed unlikely he could walk five kilometers. All the plans he had contemplated over the past few days were instantly dismissed, leaving him utterly disheartened.
"Alright then, if you have no objections, we will begin implementing the treatment plan," Dr. Bai said, raising an eyebrow and asking, "Any objections?"
"No, none at all. I will cooperate fully with the treatment," Mulin Shen quickly replied.
"Then let's start by helping out in the kitchen," Dr. Bai suggested.
"Huh? That's impossible! Although my subconscious tells me I should be in the role of a chef, I lack any instinct for cooking! Besides, in a kitchen filled with pots and knives, anything could become a weapon in a patient's hands!" Mulin Shen instantly found an irrefutable excuse to avoid working.
However, it unexpectedly aligned with the doctor's intentions. He smiled and said, "You've thought this through; let's have the meal cart delivered."
Mulin Shen slapped his forehead in frustration. That was the heaviest task—delivering meals to a building full of lunatics was hardly better than being locked in a room as one of them waiting for food.
"Oh, do you find it difficult? Or should I keep you locked up?" Dr. Bai said deliberately.
"No, no, it's fine! Labor is glorious; this is an honorable task," Mulin Shen replied, wearing a flattering smile, a smile that he had practiced on people of various backgrounds.
Dr. Bai scrutinized him, trying to gauge how much of his expression was genuine. However, as a psychiatrist, he found it challenging to measure how much thought could be concealed behind the face of a seemingly normal person. The young man before him, dressed in a hospital gown, indeed appeared humble and sincere. Over the past few days, he had noticed that Mulin Shen was quite well-mannered—he paid attention to his demeanor, maintained hygiene, and never used foul language. This was in stark contrast to the raw environment around them, where patients would curse, scream, and bite; even doctors struggled to maintain their composure.
"Come with me... I'll accompany you for some exercise and introduce you to this treatment area," Dr. Bai said.
In fact, there was another benefit to being in the Mental Hospital: one could witness the extremes of human nature in madness. From a certain perspective, it served as a microcosm of society. Of course, only a psychiatrist could articulate the educational significance of such observations.
Xiao Mu followed closely behind, as this lesson aimed at influencing patients' perceptions of society and life began...
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