Chapter Forty-Six: The Asylum

That day, I went to bed early. The next morning, a little after seven, Chen Chen sent me the location right on time, along with a brief message: “Hurry up, I’m waiting for you.” I replied simply, then gathered my things and headed out.

“Be careful, brother,” Nangong Xi said, looking at me anxiously before I left, her small hands nervously fidgeting.

“Come on, it’s not like I’m going to my death. Just wait for me—I’ll be back soon,” I replied, spreading my hands with a half-smile.

She nodded obediently. Only then did I notice she was wearing that necklace around her neck.

I hailed a cab, told the driver the address, then glanced again at my phone.

The address Chen Chen had sent was next to a psychiatric hospital on the southern outskirts of our city, and there were no other buildings nearby—just that hospital.

By now, I already had a suspicion forming in my mind.

The car sped along, but the direction felt wrong. Perhaps my improved abilities had sharpened my sense of direction as well, because I clearly felt the car heading west. Glancing out the window, I spoke up to the driver, “Sir, you’re going the wrong way. I said south.”

“Oh, right, I’ll turn around,” the young driver replied. He wore a baseball cap and a mask.

I’d noticed something was off about him from the start. When I got in, he’d kept casting furtive glances my way, his eyes filled with greed.

Suddenly, the young driver pressed a button on the dashboard, and a cloud of white smoke filled the car.

A sense of dread washed over me. I drew my knife quickly, but the smoke gave me no chance—within seconds, I was overcome by dizziness and lost consciousness.

...

In a haze, I was jolted fully awake by a bucket of cold water dumped over me.

“Kid, it’s just your bad luck to run into me. In the next life, I’ll be your servant or your horse, whatever you want, but this life—don’t blame me,” the young driver said, now with his cap and mask removed, revealing a sly, shifty face.

Looking around, I saw that I was in the middle of nowhere, bound tightly to a chair, my mouth sealed with duct tape.

I frowned and made muffled sounds through the tape.

“You don’t have much money on you, so I won’t waste time. I’ll try not to make you suffer,” he said, shrugging. I raised an eyebrow and felt for the ring on my finger—thankfully, it was still there.

I reached into the ring's space, grabbed a random dagger, and quietly sawed through the ropes, keeping my hands ready.

The young driver couldn’t be bothered to talk anymore. He pulled a machete from the trunk of the car.

As he drew near, I gathered my strength and kicked him hard in the stomach.

An ordinary person couldn’t have withstood that blow—he flew backward, spitting blood.

“You little bastard, I’ll kill you!” he shouted, his mouth smeared with blood.

Before he could react, I shrugged off the ropes, tore the tape from my mouth, and said, “Come on, kill me…”

He paused, his attitude shifting instantly. Seeing how easily I’d freed myself and the force of my kick, even a fool would know I was no ordinary target.

“Big brother, I’ll leave right now—I didn’t realize who I was dealing with,” he stammered, all bravado gone, now bowing and scraping.

“Did I say you could leave?”

He was about to get into the car when my words stopped him cold.

Before he could react further, I struck him on the back of the head. He staggered, then, with another blow, collapsed unconscious.

I tied him up in the car and used his phone to call the police.

I could have killed him, but this was a matter for the authorities.

I checked the time—it was already past ten. Chen Chen had called me over a dozen times, but I hadn’t answered.

I had no choice but to call back.

“You finally picked up! Where have you been?” Chen Chen’s voice carried a note of reproach.

“Ah, ran into some trouble, but I’ll be there soon,” I said, orienting myself.

“All right, just get here quick,” Chen Chen said, then hung up.

I was far out west, a long way from the southern gate where I needed to be. With no other option, I ran at full speed, taking shortcuts to avoid unnecessary trouble.

...

After weaving my way through side streets, I finally neared my destination.

The psychiatric hospital from the map was less than two hundred meters away.

The area was desolate; apart from the hospital, there was nothing but weeds in every direction and a solitary four-story building standing awkwardly in the wild.

But there was no sign of Chen Chen. By all rights, this was the location he’d sent me.

With no alternative, I called him again.

“I’m here. Where are you?”

“I’m inside the hospital. Just come in.”

“Okay, I’ll be there in two minutes.”

I put away my phone and jogged toward the hospital. The closer I got, the heavier the atmosphere seemed—perhaps just my imagination.

I didn’t hesitate and walked straight in.

The place looked old, even the tiles outside were cracked.

Inside, it was unexpectedly clean—just a bit cramped, but otherwise like any ordinary hospital.

I soon spotted Chen Chen, sitting on a chair to the left. He saw me too, but instead of relief, his face was clouded with worry.

As I approached, he finally spoke.

“No one knows where Li Ping’an lives now, but I found out he has a twin brother who lives here.”

“I suspect Li Ping’an is the sole survivor of that death game ten years ago!”

I nodded, then asked, “So let’s go up and find him?”

To my surprise, Chen Chen refused outright. “He developed some mental illness at some point. Though he’s in his twenties, he acts bizarrely and has set his own rules: no one can see him before a certain time, and he keeps himself locked in his room.”

I gave a helpless smile. We could only wait. I thought for a moment and asked, “So when’s the next time?”

“One o’clock.”

It wasn’t even eleven yet—about three hours to wait. Chen Chen and I could do nothing but sit and wait.

During that time, I wandered around the hospital. Apart from the first floor, all the other floors were wards.

Chen Chen said the man we were looking for was in the first ward on the top floor.

The first floor housed a jumble of miscellaneous rooms, but there was no one inside. In fact, I hadn’t seen a single nurse in the whole building—just a middle-aged man at the reception desk, earbuds in, lost in his music, not sparing me so much as a glance since I’d arrived.