Ever since waking up in the hospital, Qi Min had felt something was off about his surroundings.
At first, the sensation wasn’t so strong in the hospital—it was more like a vague feeling that he had forgotten something. But after returning to school, the sense of unease grew stronger and more intrusive.
He even began to wonder if he was really Qi Min. At least, not the Qi Min that his classmates believed him to be.
And he wasn’t the only one to notice something strange. People around him had started reacting to his oddities as well. Or perhaps, “mutations” was a better term.
Qi Min wondered: had the car accident somehow transported him to some alternate reality? Was his real body still lying in a hospital bed somewhere, in a vegetative state?
No—maybe even the memories of the car accident were fabricated. Fake.
Perhaps he wasn’t Qi Min at all—or at least not this high school student version of Qi Min.
And the seemingly warm and friendly classmates around him? They might be something else entirely, disguised as humans and silently observing him.
But disguises don’t last forever. Occasionally, their true faces would slip through, revealing something grotesque beneath.
Like the bizarre behavior of the students from Class 7, Grade 11.
At present, it seemed as though these “people” were locked in some kind of subtle struggle with him.
For reasons he couldn’t yet fathom, they maintained a façade of restraint, as if bound by certain rules. It seemed as long as Qi Min didn’t break the illusion, they would continue to act like good classmates and friends.
If he had to describe it, it felt like… a performance.
Sun Xiaoxiao was playing the role of class president.
Hao Peng was acting as his best friend.
The other classmates were performing their roles in their daily lives.
But Qi Min’s arrival as an outsider had disrupted the script, creating distortions and an increasing sense of disharmony.
It was like a rope being pulled tighter and tighter, on the verge of snapping.
He saw two options: either he could embrace his role and perfect his performance, allowing the play to continue; or he could find a way to escape the performance before the rope broke.
The problem with the first option was that Qi Min didn’t know enough about the version of “himself” that others expected him to be.
Even if he managed to play the role convincingly, who knew how long the performance would last? Years? Decades? Could he really keep acting forever?
Images of his classmates’ numb, rigid expressions flashed through Qi Min’s mind.
No, long before that, he might be assimilated by this world, becoming one of them.
That was a result Qi Min could not accept.
Which left only one solution: finding a way to break free from the play.
But before that, he couldn’t afford to expose the inconsistencies in his character.
If he crossed a certain threshold, they might all turn on him and eliminate him together.
For instance, when Hao Peng had asked him earlier about his ideal major, it had felt like a subtle test—a way to flesh out his “character.” If Qi Min had carelessly answered with his real thoughts rather than what this “character” would say, the resulting dissonance might have caused a drastic shift in his situation.
In the worst-case scenario, a “failed actor” like him might be “written off” entirely.
So, the real question was: what was the key to escaping this play?
Lost in thought, Qi Min barely noticed as the movie screening ended.
Usually, after such outings, the students would take a bus back to school under the supervision of their homeroom teacher before heading home individually.
However, it was already close to 9 p.m., and some students who lived nearby didn’t want to bother with the extra trip. Others had parents picking them up.
Those who informed the teacher were allowed to leave on their own.
Not wanting to ride back with his classmates, Qi Min claimed his mother was picking him up, then hailed a taxi instead.
Before getting in, he carefully observed the driver’s expression.
Seeing that the man appeared perfectly normal and showed no signs of being anything unusual, Qi Min finally relaxed and got in.
After a few minutes, the taxi left the main road and turned onto a slightly narrower two-lane street.
It was then that Qi Min noticed a familiar Volkswagen Passat coming toward them from the opposite direction.
The car’s interior was dark, but as their vehicles passed each other, the headlights briefly illuminated the driver’s face.
Cold and emotionless, gripping the steering wheel, was none other than Doctor Wei Wenhua.
So late at night—was Doctor Wei heading home?
His hospital was in the eastern part of the city.
His private clinic was in the city center.
And his home… was in the west?
After a brief moment of thought, Qi Min asked the taxi driver to make a U-turn at the next break in the median.
Following the Volkswagen for about ten minutes, Qi Min saw it stop in front of an old residential building.
…So, he really was going home?
Qi Min handed the taxi driver a round-trip fare and asked him to wait before stepping out of the car.
Sticking to the shadows where the streetlights couldn’t reach, he hobbled after Wei Wenhua, keeping a careful distance.
To avoid being noticed, Qi Min stayed far behind and occasionally hid behind the trunks of roadside trees.
It didn’t take long before he lost sight of his target.
Looking around, Qi Min noticed a small shop about 50 meters ahead with its lights still on.
Approaching the door, he saw green stickers pasted on the sliding glass panels, bearing the words X-Kang Pharmacy.
The stickers extended to the sides of the door, with one reading Honest Medicine on the left and the other Affordable Medicine on the right.
Beyond these slogans, the pharmacy, tucked into the base of an old residential building, lacked any visible signage. The glass doors were grimy, as if they hadn’t been cleaned in ages.
Wei Wenhua came here to buy medicine?
A wave of doubt washed over Qi Min.
Wei Wenhua worked at a major hospital and owned a private clinic—there was no reason for him to visit a small, shady pharmacy like this.
If it were for stocking up his clinic, he could simply call a wholesaler and have the medicine delivered directly in bulk.
The city also had large pharmaceutical markets where supplies could be sourced.
But a trip across half the city late at night to this seemingly unlicensed pharmacy? It made no sense.
The counter was unstaffed; the owner appeared to be fetching medicine from the back.
Qi Min hid in a corner.
Not long after, Wei Wenhua emerged with a bag of medicine, walking back toward the counter with the owner.
Using the moment when they paused at the counter for payment, Qi Min squinted to make out the boxes of medicine in Wei Wenhua’s bag.
However, the combination of distance and the dirty glass obscured his view.
Then, as the pharmacy owner said something to Wei Wenhua, the latter suddenly turned his head toward Qi Min’s hiding spot.
Their eyes met.
Caught off guard and unable to move quickly due to his limp, Qi Min remained crouched at the edge of the glass, frozen in an awkwardly furtive position.
Qi Min: …
The situation felt eerily familiar.
Pretending to adjust his clothing, Qi Min slowly stood up, trying to appear casual.
Wei Wenhua finished paying, exited the pharmacy, and walked straight over to Qi Min.
“Doctor Wei! Buying medicine?” Qi Min greeted him before he could say anything, sneaking a quick glance at the plastic bag in Wei Wenhua’s hand.
The words hydrochloride, amine, and injection flashed briefly before his eyes, along with some smaller text he couldn’t decipher in time.
Sensing Qi Min’s gaze, Wei Wenhua stepped closer, subtly shifting his body to block the bag from view.
Qi Min averted his eyes from the bag and met Wei Wenhua’s gaze.
Wei Wenhua smiled politely. “That’s right. Done with the movie?”
“The West City cinema is quite far from here. What brings you all the way out here?”
It was Friday. Qi Min had originally scheduled an appointment at Wei Wenhua’s clinic for his leg but canceled due to the school-organized movie outing—a fact Wei Wenhua was well aware of.
Qi Min kept his composure and lied smoothly. “Oh, I have a relative living nearby. I figured I’d stop by after the movie… Didn’t expect to run into you, Doctor Wei. What a coincidence!”
A car horn honked twice in the distance, about a hundred meters behind them.
The taxi driver leaned out of the window and shouted, “Hey, kid! Are you coming or not? I’ve got to clock out soon!”
Wei Wenhua: …
Qi Min: …
It’s barely past nine. Can you really pay off your debts clocking out this early?
Maintaining a neutral expression, Qi Min responded, “Yeah, I’m heading home now.”
No problem there.
“Oh, I see.”
Wei Wenhua gave Qi Min a faintly amused look, then glanced around the area.
Qi Min followed his gaze. The dimly lit old residential neighborhood was cloaked in darkness.
The sound of rustling leaves echoed clearly in the stillness.
Qi Min: …
He pointed randomly at a window. “They’ve already gone to bed…”
Wei Wenhua: …
Perhaps out of courtesy, not wanting Qi Min to face a more awkward situation, Wei Wenhua interrupted him just as he was about to point again.
“That fourth-floor unit over there is my home,” Wei Wenhua said, subtly shifting his finger’s direction.
But fearing Qi Min might claim another apartment belonged to his uncle or aunt, his finger hovered in the air like a kite caught in the wind before awkwardly dropping back to his side.
… Truly, the more you walk the night, the more likely you are to meet a ghost.
“…I don’t visit often. I forgot which one it was, haha…” Qi Min said boldly, meeting Wei Wenhua’s gaze head-on, unflinching.
He was confident Wei Wenhua wouldn’t press him further.
Sure enough, Wei Wenhua smiled and said with a gentle demeanor, “Why don’t you come up for a bit?” His tone was warm and accommodating.
The empty residential complex suddenly seemed even colder, as if swept by a ghostly wind.
“…”
Qi Min politely declined, “No, no! That’s okay! It’s your off-hours; it’d be so rude to disturb your rest!”
Faced with Qi Min’s triple refusal, the ever-considerate Doctor Wei didn’t insist.
Still poised and refined, he chuckled, “Alright, fair enough. Don’t forget your check-up at the clinic tomorrow! It’s getting late—head home now!”
The contrast between Wei Wenhua’s gentlemanly demeanor and Qi Min’s earlier evasiveness made Qi Min’s own actions seem particularly petty.
Qi Min: Go to hell with this pretentious act!
After exchanging polite farewells, Qi Min got into the taxi under Wei Wenhua’s watchful gaze. Wei Wenhua even waved as the car drove off.
In the rearview mirror, Wei Wenhua and the desolate, aging residential complex gradually disappeared behind him, replaced by the brightly lit main road ahead.
The divide between light and darkness was stark, like two separate worlds.
Qi Min turned his gaze back to the road ahead.
In the end, he still hadn’t found out what kind of medicine Wei Wenhua had purchased.
But seriously, Wei Wenhua could afford a new car—why couldn’t he buy a place closer to his workplace?
These days, many cars cost more than houses.
When something seems off, there’s always a reason. Especially in such a strange situation as this. Staying vigilant couldn’t hurt.
Back home, Qi Min mulled over the encounter for a while before sitting down at his desk and powering on his computer.
Once it booted up, he opened a browser and typed a few keywords into the Baidu search bar.
The Author has something to say:
Qi Min: If I’m not embarrassed, the embarrassment is someone else’s problem.
Shang Jing Shui: True.
Qi Min: …
Before the 2005 regulations on anesthetics came into effect, the control over these substances wasn’t as strict. Many private clinics stocked anesthetics freely, as local anesthetics were consumables. Before 2003, some general anesthetics could even be purchased directly from pharmacies.
