PTGWD Chapter 39：Evidence

Director Li looked up from a short video, and upon seeing him, exclaimed, “Oh!” with a smile. “That’s good. If something happened to our surgical genius, I’d be in big trouble. How have you been lately?”

Fang Xingzhou: “I feel like my mental state has improved a lot. You were right; I was just under too much pressure recently.”

Director Li nodded in agreement: “Prenatal anxiety is very common, and with your heavy workload, it’s nothing serious.”

Fang Xingzhou lowered his head and took a sip of soup, casually bringing up: “Did my fiancé also take the test questionnaire back then? I vaguely remember the results weren’t ideal…”

Director Li was stunned: “Huh?”

A look of genuine confusion appeared on his face. He blinked and asked, “Fiancé? Didn’t your wife already get engaged to you and is now pregnant? What fiancé are you talking about?”

Fang Xingzhou seemed to ignore his words and continued, “That day, your diagnosis for him was—highly suspected antisocial personality. Do you remember?”

Director Li put down his chopsticks and stared at him for a while.

“Why do you have such a memory?” He quickly shifted into a diagnostic mode.

Fang Xingzhou didn’t answer his question but instead asked, “Why don’t you have such a memory?”

Director Li: “…”

An awkward silence followed.

After a moment, Director Li reached out and touched Fang Xingzhou’s forehead to confirm he wasn’t running a fever, then sighed. He looked at him with sympathy and said, “That day, your wife came with you for the checkup, but only you entered the consultation room. We chatted for a while, and then you went next door to fill out the test questionnaire. A few minutes later, your wife took the opportunity to come in and spoke with me for a bit. The conversation mainly revolved around your mental state. She loves you very much and is deeply concerned about you.”

“What nonsense about a fiancé? What antisocial personality?”

Fang Xingzhou looked at his old friend.

He had known Director Li since college and was well aware that he was neither a liar nor had any reason to lie.

He genuinely didn’t remember.

Fang Xingzhou took a slow, deep breath and didn’t press further. He lowered his head and looked at the bowl of soup in front of him, seeing his reflection in the clear broth.

Another piece of evidence.

Lu Jianchuan… was pretending to be human.

Moreover, if the information he had recorded on the back of the diagnosis was accurate, the situation might be more complicated than he had imagined. Lu Jianchuan could effortlessly manipulate nearly half of the hospital staff, a capability far more terrifying than anticipated.

Many other memories began to surface as well. He quickly thought of “Wang Fei.” Looking back now, that engagement banquet was far more bizarre than it appeared on the surface. Wang Fei might not be human either, and Li Xuan, the officer in charge of the case, was likely not an ordinary special police officer…

“Xingzhou?” Director Li called out tentatively.

Fang Xingzhou’s train of thought was interrupted, and he looked up, smiling at his colleague: “Sorry, I zoned out. What were you saying?”

Director Li: “You don’t have any surgeries this afternoon, right? Make some time to come back for a follow-up. It seems like your condition has worsened.”

“…” Fang Xingzhou met his friend’s deeply concerned gaze and couldn’t explain. He simply said, “Okay.”

…

In the afternoon, Director Li specially added an appointment for him, asking him to visit the psychiatric department after work.

When he arrived at the psychiatric clinic, the lobby was already empty. His friend had gone to the restroom, and the room was deserted, with only the computer still on.

Fang Xingzhou gently closed the door and sat down in front of the computer. He was intimately familiar with the hospital’s medical record system and easily pulled up the records from his and Lu Jianchuan’s visit that day.

Unfortunately, Lu Jianchuan hadn’t registered that day, and temporary records were only kept for ten days, so they were no longer accessible.

Fang Xingzhou’s records were still intact, more detailed than the diagnosis report. One line stood out: “Initial assessment suggests the patient’s mental state is severely influenced by their partner.”

He narrowed his eyes slightly.

For such a statement to be included in the medical records, it meant that Director Li had judged that Deer also had serious psychological issues at the time. Otherwise, such a diagnosis wouldn’t have been made casually.

Deer had overlooked another detail.

All the evidence pointed to one truth.

But after digesting it all night, Fang Xingzhou felt surprisingly calm. He stared at the screen for a few minutes, then closed the system and left the computer.

Director Li soon returned from the restroom and gave him a new assessment questionnaire and a blood test order. Fang Xingzhou carefully completed the questionnaire and handed the results, along with the blood test, to his friend for evaluation.

Director Li looked at the results, then at him, assessing carefully for a long time, his brows furrowed, as if doubting his own professionalism.

Finally, he hesitantly said, “…It really doesn’t seem like there’s any major issue. In fact, there’s a noticeable improvement compared to last time… Xingzhou, you’re not deliberately manipulating the test results, are you?”

Fang Xingzhou sincerely suggested: “Perhaps you should also take an assessment.”

Director Li: “…”

“Thank you for the suggestion. Perhaps I should. We’re in a high-risk profession,” he said, rubbing his temples. “I won’t prescribe any medication today. If anything feels off, come see me again.”

Fang Xingzhou thanked him and drove home after work. On the way, he passed a cake shop and stopped to buy ten of Lu Jianchuan’s favorite strawberry cakes.

After driving a short distance, he suddenly felt that ten wasn’t enough. He turned the car around and went back, buying out the entire stock of cakes. The shop owner was overjoyed and enthusiastically helped him load dozens of cake boxes into the car.

The round trip delayed him by half an hour, but he had promised Deer that he would come home early today.

Fang Xingzhou sped through the streets, taking shortcuts to the highway.

…What should he do next?

As he watched the scenery flash by, he felt unusually hesitant.

Lu Jianchuan had been diligently hiding the truth for so many years, even going so far as to study alongside him for four years with the knowledge of a monster, treating the act of pretending to be human as a full-time job.

This morning, just a single probing question had left him looking as if he could barely breathe from sadness. If he confronted him with the truth, would he be devastated and never recover?

Moreover, Lu Jianchuan was pregnant with their child, and his morning sickness had been severe lately. If he were to experience a strong emotional shock, it wouldn’t be good for either the mother or the baby.

Fang Xingzhou’s breathing grew heavy.

But he needed to know Lu Jianchuan’s true identity. The pregnancy was only four months along, and it was clear that human food could no longer meet the nutritional needs. What would they do for the remaining six months of the pregnancy? And what about the delivery? These were unavoidable issues.

These thoughts swirled in his mind for a long time, and it wasn’t until he exited the highway that Fang Xingzhou realized—

He might be overthinking this.

His partner of ten years wasn’t human. His reaction should be more intense—fear, confusion, anger, mixed with a sense of helplessness. That would make it more realistic.

If he handled it too calmly, it might scare Deer, right?

After all, although Lu Jianchuan was a monster, his love for him had never been in doubt. Sometimes, humans should act like humans, and monsters should act like monsters. That would be better for family harmony.

Fang Xingzhou sighed softly. What a hassle…

As he drove into the garage, he realized he hadn’t checked the surveillance footage all afternoon. He pushed the chaotic thoughts aside, eager to check on his pregnant partner’s condition.

There were too many cakes, so it would take multiple trips to carry them all. He picked out ten of Lu Jianchuan’s favorite strawberry cakes and carried them to the door, ringing the doorbell.

After waiting for a while, there was no sound of footsteps from inside.

Fang Xingzhou’s heart tightened, and a sense of foreboding washed over him. He called out, “Lu Jianchuan,” but there was still no response. His heart sank further as he remembered the scene when he returned home yesterday. He dropped the cakes at the door, fumbled for his keys, and struggled to fit them into the lock, his hands trembling slightly.

Suddenly, without any sound of footsteps, the door opened from the inside.

In his peripheral vision, Fang Xingzhou caught a glimpse of something indescribably beautiful, retreating rapidly from his sight—something resembling a snake…

He froze for half a second.

Before he could process it, he saw Lu Jianchuan curled up on the couch. The house was in disarray again, just like yesterday, with empty food wrappers scattered everywhere. The roses at the entrance, though not wilted, looked lifeless, their edges beginning to yellow.

Fang Xingzhou’s expression changed, and he strode over to the couch, his voice tense: “Deer?”

Lu Jianchuan let out a weak voice: “Zhouzhou… you’re back.”

Hearing him speak, Fang Xingzhou’s tension eased slightly. He knelt down and felt Lu Jianchuan’s temperature: “What’s wrong?”

Lu Jianchuan looked slightly better than yesterday, at least able to reach out and grab Fang Xingzhou’s wrist. His face was pale: “…Stomachache.”

“Stomachache?” Fang Xingzhou’s hand moved to press a few areas around Lu Jianchuan’s stomach, professionally assessing the pain. “Where does it hurt? Is it a sharp pain or a throbbing pain? What did you eat recently?”

The stomach inside had long been emptied. As Fang Xingzhou pressed, digestive fluids spilled into the surrounding organs. Lu Jianchuan gasped and shrank back, avoiding Fang Xingzhou’s hand, his forehead beaded with cold sweat: “Hungry… it hurts from hunger. Don’t press, Zhouzhou.”

Fang Xingzhou’s mind went blank for a moment.

Before leaving, he had made sure that all three rooms in the house were stocked with food—over 300 pounds of fresh meat, 50 pounds of semi-processed meat, and countless snacks, staples, and fruits.

Deer had eaten all of that in one day and was still hungry?

Fang Xingzhou frowned and stood up to get a knife from the kitchen. Since Lu Jianchuan wasn’t human, it was clear that human food couldn’t provide enough energy. The only food he knew for sure worked was his own blood.

He held the knife, his gaze sweeping over his arm before settling on his elbow.

“Babe? What are you doing in the kitchen?”

The blade came down.

“Fang Xingzhou!”

A familiar dizziness washed over him.

He was absolutely certain the blade had cut something, but in the next moment, he looked down and saw the knife was intact, as was his hand. It was as if the action had happened in a dream.

A cold, sweaty hand gripped his wrist tightly. It was Lu Jianchuan’s hand.

Lu Jianchuan, with some burst of strength, had crawled off the couch, his face twisted in despair: “Didn’t you get better? Why are you trying to cut yourself again!”

Fang Xingzhou stared at his skin for a few seconds, then turned to Lu Jianchuan and smiled, choosing not to provoke him further. He simply reassured him: “Just a little to tide you over. It won’t affect anything.”

Lu Jianchuan: “…”

He snatched the knife from Fang Xingzhou’s hand, breathing heavily, and said word by word, weakly: “Then let me… starve to death.”

Fang Xingzhou fell silent for a moment.

“There’s a blood-drawing needle in the first aid kit,” he changed his approach. “I’ll use that to draw a little blood. It won’t leave a wound. Is that okay?”

“No,” Lu Jianchuan said, dizzy with anger. “Don’t even think about it!”

Fang Xingzhou: “Don’t get too worked up. You shouldn’t get agitated when you have low blood sugar…”

Lu Jianchuan, in his agitation, crushed the fruit knife with his bare hands, bending the blade.

Fang Xingzhou: “…”

Lu Jianchuan: “…”

Lu Jianchuan’s expression turned horrified as he cautiously looked at Fang Xingzhou, his Adam’s apple bobbing. He instinctively tried to hide the knife behind his back.

Fang Xingzhou calmly took the knife and threw it in the trash.

“This brand of knives is too low quality,” he said. “They’re too fragile. I accidentally broke one last time too.”

Lu Jianchuan: “?”

“Wife…” his voice trembled slightly. “Am I so hungry that I’m hallucinating?”

Fang Xingzhou firmly said: “Yes, you’re so hungry that you’re hallucinating. Where’s your phone? I need to use it.”

Lu Jianchuan: “…On the coffee table.”

Fang Xingzhou helped him sit back on the couch and brought in the strawberry cakes he had left at the door. Although they weren’t what Lu Jianchuan needed, they could at least ease the stomachache.

Lu Jianchuan’s eyes lit up at the sight of the cakes.

Fang Xingzhou deliberately turned his back, allowing Lu Jianchuan to eat the cakes in his preferred manner. He then picked up the phone from the coffee table and asked, “Can I take a look at your phone?”

The only response from behind him was the sound of voracious eating.

He took it as a yes and unlocked the phone, opening the call log.

Lu Jianchuan rarely socialized, and his call log was sparse. Over the past month, he had only called three people, labeled “Dear Wife,” “Dad,” and “Li Xuan.”

Fang Xingzhou glanced at the other two contacts and saved Lu Jianchuan’s father’s and Li Xuan’s numbers into his own phone.

Next, he opened the chat history and searched for the keyword “farm,” which Lu Jianchuan had mentioned yesterday. The search quickly located the relevant chat. Lu Jianchuan’s father had sent a message yesterday: “Why didn’t you come to the farm today? I’ve expanded the supply chain. We’re sourcing from the neighboring city now, so it won’t affect prices in City C.”

Lu Jianchuan had replied: “Sorry, Dad. I overslept today. I’ll definitely come tomorrow.”

Then, today, his father sent another message: “Why didn’t you come today either?”

…

Fang Xingzhou’s heart clenched.

The reason he hadn’t gone today… was because Fang Xingzhou had installed cameras at home. Lu Jianchuan was afraid of exposing his non-human identity, so he had stayed home all day, not daring to leave.

He pursed his lips, finding answers to many of his questions in the chat history. Lu Jianchuan’s parents indeed knew his true identity. No wonder they had been so “open-minded” that day at their house.

He glanced back at Lu Jianchuan.

The latter had stretched his human mouth to an unnatural size, stuffing the last strawberry cake whole into his mouth without chewing. His throat bulged as the cake slid down his esophagus into his stomach.

It reminded Fang Xingzhou of a neighbor’s dog sneaking sausages off the street. Though slightly terrifying, after seeing it a few times, it also seemed somewhat endearing.

He turned back and dialed Lu Jianchuan’s father’s number using Lu Jianchuan’s phone.

The call connected quickly: “Hello? Xiao Lu?”

Fang Xingzhou: “Uncle, it’s Fang Xingzhou. Sorry to bother you so late. Could you send me the address of the farm now?”

As soon as he finished speaking, Lu Jianchuan looked up in shock, his mouth still smeared with strawberry cream.

The other end of the line fell silent. Lu Jianchuan’s father hesitated, unsure of his intentions: “Wh-what farm…?”

Fang Xingzhou said, “Lu Jianchuan is starving to death.”

Lu Jianchuan: “…”

Hearing this, Lu Jianchuan’s father inhaled sharply, seemingly not doubting the statement at all. He said, “I’ll send it to you right now! Please, Xiao Fang, take him there immediately. I’ll notify the person in charge.”

Fang Xingzhou smiled politely: “Thank you. I’ll add you on my phone later.”

He hung up and met Lu Jianchuan’s terrified gaze.