Chapter 40: “Mr. Wu”
After Jiang Li finished contacting Lin Kule and returned, she found Lu Yibei looking a bit off.
She leaned against the wall at the staircase, staring blankly down the steps, her gaze slightly hollow, giving off a sense of loss as if she had lost something important.
“What’s wrong? Are you troubled?” she gently asked as she walked over to Lu Yibei.
Lu Yibei snapped back to her senses, shook her head expressionlessly, “No, nothing. Can we set off? Should we grab some lunch before leaving?”
The mission to rescue her father likely required infiltrating the Solar Eclipse Society’s Serial Number 3 stronghold, and she absolutely couldn’t allow Jiang Li to participate.
Although the Black Sun Totem on her was suppressed, it hadn’t been completely eliminated, making her a potential risk. If she got too close to the Lime Men, what should have just been a rescue of one person might turn into a rescue of two.
Jiang Li furrowed her brows, crossing her arms in front of her chest and carefully examining Lu Yibei for a moment before tilting her head and asking, “Are you really okay? You look burdened.”
She instinctively thought about using the power of Spirit Patterns to discern the truth behind Lu Yibei’s words but hesitated and suppressed the impulse.
“Don’t worry!” Lu Yibei patted her chest, saying, “If there’s something, I will definitely tell you!”
“Alright, stop overthinking. Let’s eat something first, and then we’ll head to the Military Hospital?”
“I saw a Small Noodle Shop at the entrance when we came,” Jiang Li and Lu Yibei almost simultaneously mentioned the same thing.
Have we actually become this attuned to each other? Lu Yibei was astonished.
Jiang Li shot a glance at Lu Yibei, “I noticed it when we came. You were staring at that Small Noodle Shop several times.”
Upon hearing this, Lu Yibei turned her face away as if afraid Jiang Li might perceive something from her expression.
Could I not look at it a few more times?
Last night, I was chased three miles by the dog from the “Small Noodle Shop” and still haven’t eaten any noodles—
Beside Shancheng Military Hospital, Mintai Community.
This residential area has been around for some time, evident from the towering eucalyptus trees with dense branches within the community. The area was originally a family building for the military hospital.
As time passed, the original residents had long moved away, and most houses had turned into rental properties. The people living in these houses had shifted from doctors to patients.
Becoming a “patient building” seems to be the ultimate fate of most residential communities near hospitals.
The sky was overcast, shrouded in light haze, and the dim light fell from the sky, filtering through the dense branches of the eucalyptus trees, gray and cold, as if the night was about to descend.
Amid the tree canopy above, the occasional calls of unknown birds could be heard, seemingly agitated by something.
The greenery along the path, long unattended, had overgrown. The shrubs grew wildly and took on bizarre shapes, and one could occasionally spot hidden white trash beneath the bush.
If given a choice, no one would prefer to live in such an old, run-down, and slightly messy community. Yet, the reality was that each household here had people, sometimes two or three families sharing a unit.
They fell ill and had no choice.
Walking along the path deeper into the community, they arrived at the furthest unit, number seven. Entering through the dark corridor and crossing a long hallway, they saw a sign painted with a heart that read “Anti-Cancer Home.”
Time: 1:48 PM.
Zhou Tong arrived here as usual, pressing the doorbell for the Anti-Cancer Home.
To be honest, from the moment he first heard about this place until his first participation in a support group meeting, he thought such a place was quite untrustworthy.
What could a group of cancer patients, nearing d*ath, do together? Venting their frustrations?
Sitting together, holding hands, can they comfort each other enough to heal?
And the organizer of the support group, he wasn’t even a patient—what was his drive?
He claimed it was to help everyone connect with better medical and pharmaceutical resources and was even an organ donation coordinator, but who could tell if he was a fraud? He might even be secretly dealing in human organs!
However, after attending an Anti-Cancer Home activity once, Zhou Tong’s attitude changed significantly. He couldn’t miss almost any activity thereafter.
He had to admit, Mr. Wu was indeed impressive.
Not only was he skilled at providing psychological support to patients, helping them regain the will to fight against their illnesses, but he also knew many renowned doctors and pharmaceutical company heads both domestically and internationally. Many friends who couldn’t find treatment for their illnesses in Shancheng found new treatment options thanks to him.
So, after attending a few activities, Zhou Tong, like other patients, began to see this place as a “home.” Every member of the “big family” tried their best to help each other, making one feel as if with the support of everyone, their illness would get better eventually.
Ding dong—ding dong—!”
Zhou Tong pressed the doorbell again. After a moment, the door of the Anti-Cancer Home slowly opened, revealing a man in his early thirties, dressed in a white shirt and black trousers, simple yet tidy.
He stood over 1.9 meters tall, with a strong physique, black curly hair, thick eyebrows, a high nose, and light gray-blue eyes that resembled the overcast sky. His features were delicate yet masculine, and his skin was even whiter and smoother than that of most women.
When Zhou Tong first met Mr. Wu, he mistakenly thought he was a foreigner, later learning he was mixed race with a British father.
Such looks also made Zhou Tong suspect Mr. Wu’s motives behind organizing the support group.
With a face like that, he could easily rely on his looks to make a living. As a man, one couldn’t help but develop some unusual feelings. He could have been an actor, model, or internet celebrity—definitely would have been well off.
Moreover, Mr. Wu was talented in both painting and piano, with professional-level skills. He could even sculpt; it was said he created the inscription for a deceased patient’s tombstone.
With someone like him, whatever he chose to do would be much more comfortable than organizing a support group for patients or being a coordinator for organ donations.
As he opened the door and stood at the threshold, looking at the empty yet warm living room behind him, which was completely unlike the usual bustling activities before they began, Zhou Tong showed a puzzled expression, “Mr. Wu, did I come too early?”
The man in front of him gave a wry smile and explained, “Not really. It’s just that I suddenly have important guests visiting, and I have to meet them. We can’t hold the activities today.”
“Oh, I see.” Zhou Tong nodded.
The Anti-Cancer Home was originally a non-profit organization, completely altruistic, so he could understand Mr. Wu having to cancel activities due to personal matters.
“So will tomorrow’s activity still be at the usual time?”
“Tomorrow is also uncertain.” Mr. Wu smiled wryly again, “Recently, I can’t guarantee I can organize the activities as usual. As soon as I can, I will let everyone know.”
“Later, please also inform everyone that I’m sorry for the short notice.” Zhou Tong frowned at Mr. Wu, biting his lip and asked, “Mr. Wu, are you facing some troubles? If there’s anything we can help with, please don’t bear it alone.”
He could see that Mr. Wu was preoccupied.
Patients didn’t understand, considering him a fraud and hurling harsh words at him. The hospital also felt that his support group was an inconvenience. The group didn’t provide him with any income, and sometimes he had to foot the bill for medications himself, enduring all this stress. It would be strange if he didn’t have worries!
“Although there is indeed a bit of trouble…” halfway through his sentence, Mr. Wu shook his head, “You all are already having a hard time; how could I add to your burdens?”
“Alright, you’d better get back to the hospital now. Your health isn’t great, you need to rest more.”
Zhou Tong opened his mouth as if to say something else, but Mr. Wu had already closed the door.
He stood there staring at the closed door for a long time, letting out a long sigh.
He had known Mr. Wu for almost a year now. In his impression, Mr. Wu had always been very polite and kind to everyone, never doing something as curt as directly closing the door on someone.
“What kind of trouble could he be facing that’s causing him such a headache? What should I do? What if Mr. Wu can’t hold on anymore? Where could these patients, who are already looked down upon even by their own families, seek help?”
Unintentionally, he recalled the days before joining the support group, waiting alone in the ward, feeling the solitude and illness gradually eroding his life.
After sending Zhou Tong away, Tan Qiuming returned to the sofa in the living room, rubbing his slightly swollen brow, then uncontrollably gazing at the cigarette box on the table.
As if experiencing a hallucination, the “devilish” whisper echoed in his ears.
“How about having a puff? It’ll make you feel better; just one, it won’t have any impact.”
Listening to the whispers, he straightened up, took the cigarette box from the table, pulled out a cigarette, placed it in his mouth, and lit it, taking a deep inhale.
Although he knew the source of the whispers, understood that this devilish thing, brought back from the Maya people to Spain, gradually spread across the world, had quietly become linked with that guy’s powers,
He still couldn’t help but want to smoke one, even if unconsciously, he would be eroding under that guy’s powers.
Because “that day” is approaching, he doesn’t have much time left. If he didn’t indulge now, he might never have the chance again.
As he exhaled the smoke, accompanied by the rush of nicotine stimulating his nerves, he felt slightly more relaxed, extinguished the cigarette, and sank back into the sofa, gazing at the lingering smoke floating beneath the ceiling, changing shapes, reminiscent of the scenes he had dreamt of each night for the past thirty-plus years.
The silence lasted for less than a minute when suddenly his body convulsed violently, and glowing hallucinations emerged before him—a bizarre, chaotic illusion that severely disrupted his thoughts. Soon after, whispers echoed in his mind.
“Conceal the heavens’ eyes, quietly overseeing
The chocolate-hued corpse, draped over the city and harbor.
Terrified wails, soot-blackened churches, bl**d leaking from palace walls, a plague driving wedding carts towards graves.”
That whisper, like a deadly curse, sent sharp pains tearing through his brain, and everything before him began to feel strange as if something were trying to invade his thoughts.
Then, strange shadows began to appear before him, and he felt as if he were standing on a fog-laden street instead of in a rental house.
His thoughts began to drift beyond his control, seemingly distancing from the real world.
He struggled fiercely, moving on the sofa as if afflicted by a painful illness, leaving behind patches of sweat, trying to escape the “soul shackles” that were causing him to lose himself.
Moments later, his struggles finally bore some fruit.
In the fleeting moment when his consciousness regained clarity, he suddenly sat up, his hands banging hard on the table before him.
*Bang!*
With a muffled sound, the glass table shattered into countless pieces, sharp shards slicing through Tan Qiuming’s skin, bright red bl**d spilling onto the floor.
The continuous pain in his hands pulled him from that eerie state, allowing him to slump back onto the sofa, feeling a sense of relief.
He was no stranger to such situations. He knew what would happen if he let that devilish thing take over his thoughts.
The first time he experienced this was when he had just started elementary school. Not long after the whispers echoed in his ears, he fainted and woke up over a month later.
He had no recollection of what happened during that month, only knowing that upon returning to school, his former friends had distanced themselves. When he tried to approach them, they would scream in fear. Not long after, he moved with his mother to the alley beneath Seven Star Hill.
The second time it occurred was on a night when his mother, frequently not returning home due to neighbors’ reports, just like before, he fainted again upon hearing the whispers, only to wake after three months had passed.
He did not know how he survived for three months while fainted without eating or drinking. All he knew was that upon awakening, he inexplicably learned to paint and developed a fondness for it.
The third time came shortly after his admission letter was burned. He fainted for three years, and when he woke up, he had learned knowledge in history, science, art, language, folklore, and more, inexplicably becoming passionate about helping cancer patients.
Although he missed out on a beautiful college experience, he didn’t see it as a bad thing that he could wake up from a faint and effortlessly grasp knowledge that others took years, even decades, to master.
Moreover, he felt compassion for those cancer patients and was more than willing to offer any help within his capacity.
This mindset had persisted until one deep night six months ago.
That night, while he was sleeping, he suddenly felt a sharp burning pain in his chest, as if someone had pierced his heart with a heated iron sword.
Awakened by the intense burning sensation, he groggily found himself back in the home on Seven Star Hill he hadn’t returned to in over a decade, holding a rusty kn*fe, with bloody bodies lying on the floor before him.
He stared blankly at the corpses on the ground, and only after a long time did he realize he had killed someone!
Since that day, he vaguely understood that the knowledge he once thought was “easy come, easy go” came at a price, and that price was exorbitant.
After that day, he began to avoid fainting again through various means, sometimes succeeding, sometimes failing. Each time he failed and awoke, he found himself back in the old house beneath Seven Star Hill, seeing several lost lives, mentally tormented and nearly collapsing.
“However, after today, all of this should come to an end, right?” Tan Qiuming murmured.
As soon as he finished speaking, someone suddenly knocked on the door of the “Anti-Cancer Home.”
“Knock knock—!”
“Hello, we are community staff, looking for Mr. Wu!”
