From gentle doctor to a murderous butcher… the transformation was way too extreme! This was practically a complete 180-degree flip!
As Qi Min reeled in despair, he saw Wei Wenhua approaching, holding a syringe filled with some suspicious liquid.
Qi Min quickly shouted, “Wait a second! Can I at least ask—why me?”
He didn’t know what Wei Wenhua had done to him earlier, but Qi Min felt completely powerless, his body devoid of any strength. Despite his best efforts to yell, his voice came out more like a kitten’s meow.
After blurting that out, Qi Min mulled it over.
Actually, that wasn’t quite right. Clearly, it wasn’t just him. Look at the room—weren’t all the other people already killed by this guy? So, he wasn’t specifically targeting Qi Min.
That thought offered some faint relief—
…What relief?!
Even if it wasn’t personal, the outcome was the same—this lunatic was going to kill him!
Though Qi Min’s question seemed pointless, Wei Wenhua did pause, tilting his head as he looked at him with a curious expression. “You really don’t know?”
Qi Min: “…Know what?”
This time, the question came from the depths of his soul. He truly didn’t know anything!
Wei Wenhua squinted, studying him for a moment. “I don’t know why I have to kill you, but I know I have to.”
Qi Min: “…” Great. What a completely unjust death this was shaping up to be.
What can you do when you’re up against a lunatic?
Qi Min struggled a bit, attempting to negotiate. “Have you ever considered… maybe you don’t have to kill me?”
Wei Wenhua glanced around the room at the corpses littering the floor. “Maybe I didn’t have to before, but now I definitely do.”
With that, he raised the syringe and moved closer.
Qi Min: “…” Okay, fair. Silencing witnesses—makes sense.
But Qi Min wasn’t ready to give up yet!
He craned his neck and shouted, “Wait! I still have something to say!”
Wei Wenhua stopped again, this time with an obvious hint of impatience in his furrowed brows.
In truth, Qi Min didn’t have anything to say. But when dealing with someone as ruthless as this, stalling for time was the only strategy he could think of.
Qi Min blurted out, “What’s in the syringe?”
Wei Wenhua: “…”
Qi Min forced a grin. “Haha… I’m just a little curious.”
Wei Wenhua let out a laugh, clearly amused. “…You’re something else.”
Despite his elegant demeanor, thanks to his good looks, that laugh came across to Qi Min as nothing short of menacing.
Just when Qi Min thought this was it, that he was absolutely done for, Wei Wenhua’s twisted thought process came into play.
Hearing Qi Min’s question, Wei Wenhua actually lowered his arm and sat back in a chair. Staring at the syringe in his hand, he fell silent, seemingly lost in thought.
After a moment, Wei Wenhua began to speak. “I’ve mentioned before—my mother was very strict with me. She controlled everything I ate, every piece of clothing I wore, even when I left the house… I had no say in any of it.”
“When I went to high school and started boarding, she actually moved into the dorms to live with me…”
While Wei Wenhua was reminiscing, Qi Min seized the opportunity to secretly struggle against his restraints.
…But it was useless.
Wei Wenhua had tied him up with some rough hemp rope from who knows where. Aside from his exposed, injured left leg, Qi Min was thoroughly restrained. Even at full strength, he’d have no chance of breaking free—let alone in his current state of complete exhaustion.
Accepting his predicament, Qi Min stopped struggling and adopted a look of attentiveness, as though he were fully invested in Wei Wenhua’s story.
If nothing else, he needed to avoid angering this maniac by coming across as a poor listener. The last thing he wanted was for Wei Wenhua to change his mind and kill him outright.
As Wei Wenhua delved into his past, his gaze grew distant. “Until the day she died, I never once experienced what it felt like to have control over my own life… not until she was diagnosed with cancer…”
He turned to Qi Min, flashing a faint smile.
That smile sent a chill down Qi Min’s spine.
“When my mother was diagnosed, it was already late-stage liver cancer. I had just been accepted into medical school… Even today, it’s an incurable disease, let alone back then.”
“She was as good as dead, but I never gave up. I worked odd jobs everywhere to pay for her treatment…”
“The neighbors all said I was a filial son… but honestly, I just wanted to watch her in pain.”
At this, Wei Wenhua raised his head and fixed Qi Min with a chilling gaze. “The first time I saw you, I knew you were just like me… Between us, it’s either you die or I die.”
Qi Min: “…” Excuse me?!
The first time I saw you, I was unconscious! I didn’t even say a word! How did you decide what kind of person I am? Why do we have to fight to the death?!
Though he screamed internally, Qi Min maintained a poker face.
Wei Wenhua studied him for a moment but seemed unable to read his thoughts. Turning his gaze away, he continued, “Later, I discovered something even more satisfying than watching her suffer…”
Raising the syringe in his hand, Wei Wenhua asked, “Do you know what this is?”
Qi Min: “…”
Should he play along? Or not?
But Wei Wenhua didn’t wait for a response. He answered his own question. “It’s an overdose of anesthetics, sedatives, and painkillers.”
“When injected into your body, it first relaxes your muscles and clouds your mind… Then your heart rate slows, and finally, your breathing stops. The entire process is completely painless.”
“Of course, back then, I didn’t give my mother a fatal dose all at once. After all, I was just a medical student, not yet a doctor, and anesthetics weren’t exactly easy to come by.”
“I had to stockpile them over a long time.”
“But watching her gradually waste away was quite enjoyable in its own way.”
“Since then, I’ve been addicted to this feeling—the feeling of controlling someone else’s life…”
“I truly owe my mother a debt of gratitude! Without her, I wouldn’t have gotten into medical school. And without medical school, I might never have discovered this lifelong passion of mine!”
A crazed expression spread across Wei Wenhua’s face.
Meanwhile, Qi Min could only think: …I don’t think your mom would appreciate your thanks!
Wei Wenhua stood up. “I’m a doctor. A doctor’s duty is to heal and save lives. I haven’t forgotten that! I would never harm a healthy person…”
“But for terminal cancer patients—patients beyond saving—why not use them to satisfy my small pleasures? It reduces their pain, and I get my enjoyment. A win-win, don’t you think?”
Qi Min, the very picture of a “healthy person”: …Doctor, I don’t have cancer!
It’s just a broken leg—I still have plenty of years left!
As Qi Min silently screamed inside, he couldn’t help but recall the terminal patients he’d seen die under unusual circumstances recently.
“Chemotherapy drugs can have cardiotoxic effects and damage the heart. Heart failure in chemotherapy patients isn’t uncommon…”
“They said it was heart failure, or maybe the cancer had metastasized to the lungs. Late-stage lung cancer—very common… Doctor Wei said it was organ failure—very common… No hope of saving them…”
Overdose of anesthetics leading to death closely resembles the symptoms of heart failure. And for late-stage cancer patients, even organ failure won’t raise suspicion…
“Cut the crap!” Qi Min snapped. “You’re just indulging your sick desires while hiding behind cancer patients to avoid getting caught!”
What a sham—pretending to be some benevolent saint, when you’re really just a devil in disguise!
Wei Wenhua didn’t even bother to refute it. Instead, he approached, holding the syringe.
Qi Min: “…”
He hurriedly sped up his words, “I’m just curious—after all these years of pretending, why stop now?”
As he spoke, his gaze flicked to the other lifeless bodies of doctors and nurses lying around… undoubtedly dead.
“And now, after making such a mess of things, do you think you can escape the law?”
Wei Wenhua looked at him, eyes unfocused, and murmured, “It doesn’t matter anymore. After so many years, I’m tired of it. To finish with you? Not a bad way to go.”
Qi Min: … What did I ever do to deserve this?!
Brother, if I’ve offended you, I’m sorry! I’ll change! Isn’t that enough?!
Was he really that hateable? His classmates and teachers all seemed to like him. The farewell party they threw him before his departure was full of enthusiasm!
Qi Min: “…”
He felt a cold touch brush against his arm. Sweat dripping from his brow, he raised his eyes to meet Wei Wenhua’s dark, vacant gaze.
In those eyes was nothing but emptiness and desolation.
It was the barren wasteland after a storm of sand.
The dry bed of a river long gone.
The void left by a burned-out star.
“You… You don’t want to kill me! You want to kill yourself!”
Wei Wenhua’s hand froze mid-motion. The needle slipped out of the soft flesh it was about to pierce.
A drop of liquid mixed with blood rolled down the needle, reflecting a faint shimmer.
Qi Min stared at the glowing drop, watching as the needle pulled away from him. He let out a deep, relieved sigh.
When he looked up, Wei Wenhua’s and his gazes locked in silence.
Moments later, Wei Wenhua leaned closer, and Qi Min instinctively shut his eyes.
Then came a sensation of loosened bindings.
Qi Min opened his eyes to find Wei Wenhua untying the ropes binding him. Untying him?!
Qi Min stared at Wei Wenhua in stunned disbelief.
Of course, he wanted to run immediately. But the ropes had been tied too tightly, leaving his body numb and aching. Add to that his half-crippled leg, and escape wasn’t exactly straightforward.
To make matters worse, Wei Wenhua was still standing between him and the door.
Feigning a stretch to his arms, Qi Min decided to wait for an opening.
While Qi Min hesitated, Wei Wenhua smiled faintly at him.
That bloodstained face loomed closer.
Leaning in, Wei Wenhua’s low voice whispered in his ear, “See? You and I—we’re the same kind of person.”
A shiver ran down Qi Min’s spine, and in that moment, adrenaline kicked in.
With a burst of strength, Qi Min shoved Wei Wenhua away, staggering to his feet and limping toward the door.
He threw it open, and a blinding white light poured in, making it nearly impossible to see.
Outside the door, there was nothing but light.
The strange phenomenon made Qi Min hesitate.
Glancing back, he saw Wei Wenhua smiling as he raised the syringe—and plunged it into his own neck.
The liquid in the syringe rapidly drained.
Simultaneously, the walls began peeling away, the objects in the hospital room crumbling to dust.
Thick fog rolled in from the collapsing walls.
Qi Min’s pupils contracted as he stepped out into the light.
The last image reflected in his eyes was of Wei Wenhua lowering his head, his body collapsing onto the disintegrating floor.
His limbs dissolved like sand in the wind.
A violent sensation of weightlessness engulfed Qi Min.
September 11, 2022, 9:32 a.m.
Qi Min opened his brown eyes, faint points of starlight shimmering within.
The threads were incredibly fine, nearly invisible to the naked eye. To aid visibility during assembly, they were infused with luminous material, creating the effect of countless twinkling stars suspended in the air.
These threads served a unique purpose—to link the subconscious minds of different individuals.
Technician Lu Qianwen stepped down from the calibration platform and gently removed the electrode patches from Qi Min’s forehead.
Qi Min sat up, turning to remove the “Hippocampus” device from behind his ear.
The “Hippocampus” A3, a third-generation self-awareness augmentation device, resembled a dark blue snail in appearance.
When affixed behind the ear, it emitted low-frequency magnetic pulses to specific regions of the brain, such as the lateral temporal cortex and hippocampus. This allowed the wearer to maintain consciousness while entering another person’s subconscious.
Sitting on the edge of the metallic examination table, Qi Min covered his face with a hand and exhaled deeply.
Some memories of the subconscious world had already begun to blur, but Wei Wenhua’s final words still echoed clearly in his ears. The unsettling feeling lingered in his chest.
The three people who had been observing from nearby approached him.
“How is it? Any news about Sui Ran? Where’s my son?”
“What about the caravan? When will he wake up?”
“Qi Min, are you okay? Do you need psychological intervention?”
The Author has something to say:
Wei Wenhua’s character was inspired by the real-life British serial killer doctor, Harold Shipman.
The next chapter will delve into the real-world setting, covering nearly half of the novel’s setups and foreshadowing. It might feel a bit boring, but skipping it is not recommended, as it will affect your understanding of the later plot.
