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Chapter 4: I can determine whether it’s normal or not.
On the day he saw the “child,” Peng Hu did not initially approach the Hospital History Museum.
At that time, he had just completed surgery and was drinking water in the lounge of the inpatient building. Suddenly, there was an urgent notification from the outpatient building: there had been a serious school bus accident nearby, and one of the severely injured patients was a sentinel who had been brought to 267th Hospital.
Peng Hu rushed to the emergency operating room, but the patient was already in shock due to blood loss.
It was a child of seven or eight years old, and his down jacket was completely soaked in blood.
After a collision with a car, the school bus overturned below a bridge, breaking the child’s ribs and puncturing his lungs.
The doctors at the thoracic surgery department worked tirelessly for over three hours but ultimately couldn’t save the child.
Outside the emergency room were reporters, and several adults were kneeling on the ground, crying. Peng Hu walked away from the scene; he couldn’t bear the sound of such crying. It was too painful and tragic. The child was the same age as his own child, so the first thing Peng Hu did after leaving the operating room was to contact his wife. His wife was on her way home with their child, and after speaking a few words with them, Peng Hu felt slightly calmer.
He changed his clothes and took a walk around the hospital, but couldn’t shake off his depression. Finally, he sat on a bench in front of the Hospital History Museum.
It was quite cold in the early spring, but he couldn’t wait for the snow to fall. Peng Hu looked at the bare branches above his head and suddenly noticed something unusual about a window on the third floor of the Hospital History Museum.
It was Room 6, an operating room on the third floor of the Hospital History Museum that had been abandoned for many years. There was only one window in the operating room, which had been carved out during the renovation of the old building. Originally, it was supposed to be turned into an equipment display room, but for some unknown reason, it remained unused and became a storage room.
There were no curtains on the window, and it was always foggy.
But at that moment, Peng Hu saw a child’s face on the window.
“It’s not right to call it a child,” Peng Hu said softly. “It should be an infant. Too small.”
As a doctor, he could tell at a glance that this face was unusual.
“The window in Room 6 is not low. It’s at least one meter three from the ground,” he continued. “How could an infant climb up there? I thought there were other people in that operating room at the time, and it must have been these people who brought the child there. It was too dangerous; even though the window was closed, that room was extremely dirty.”
At this moment, Peng Hu didn’t seem as drunk as before.
Xie Zijing put the bottle and his jianbing guozi aside and instinctively glanced at Qin Ge.
Qin Ge didn’t listen as seriously and nervously as Bai Xiaoyuan and Tang Cuo. He was assessing Peng Hu with a thoughtful gaze.
“And then?” Qin Ge asked.
Peng Hu obtained the key from the personnel at the Hospital History Museum and immediately rushed to the third floor. When he opened the door, he saw a room filled with a crimson light: the operating table was in the center, the patient was struggling and screaming, and doctors and nurses in sterile gowns surrounded the operating table, performing surgery. Thick blood was continuously flowing down the walls, whether it was the ceiling, the floor, or the four walls; all were nauseatingly red.
And on these abnormally red walls, one after another, infants were crawling out, looking at Peng Hu.
Bai Xiaoyuan gasped, stood up with the support of the table, and looked very pale.
Tang Cuo was uncomfortable due to the smell of alcohol, but the story didn’t elicit much of a reaction from him.
Xie Zijing glanced at Qin Ge again and noticed that Qin Ge was even calmer than Tang Cuo.
“Besides all of this,” he asked, “is there anything else you find particularly unusual? I heard from Yan Hong that you described the scene in great detail at the time. If you remember, it would be best to share it with us.”
“They weren’t wearing the sterile gowns we use now.” Peng Hu described in great detail what he had seen, including the names and styles of the instruments. He then looked at Qin Ge and said, “Including the surgical instruments in there, everything was from at least thirty years ago.”
Qin Ge stared into his eyes.
Peng Hu’s eyes showed no signs of being drunk, and he maintained direct eye contact with Qin Ge.
“Doctor Peng, do you mind if I patrol your ‘sea area’?” Qin Ge asked. “You already know that I’m the only psychological adjuster in the crisis management office here. If you’re willing, I can help you explore your ‘sea area.'”
Peng Hu seemed hesitant. “My ‘sea area’ is not normal.”
“Whether it’s normal or not, I can determine that,” Qin Ge said calmly. “You came to me, so please trust me.”
Peng Hu’s “sea area” surprised Qin Ge. It turned out to be a long, white corridor.
Handrails for the disabled were installed on both sides of the corridor, and there were tactile paths on the floor to guide blind people. Numerous room doors lined the walls, some open and some tightly closed. Qin Ge turned around and saw another long corridor behind him, with the same accessibility handrails, doors, and the same floor and ceiling.
The smell of disinfectant pervaded the surroundings, and Qin Ge could still hear the sound of call bells coming from an indistinguishable direction.
It was an endless hospital corridor.
Qin Ge pushed open a nearby door and walked in. It was a cardio-thoracic surgery consultation room, with a computer turned on and the screensaver flashing, but the room was empty.
He walked into several more rooms in succession, all of which were identical cardio-thoracic surgery consultation rooms.
The “sea areas” of the sentinel and the guide faithfully reflected their mental states and emotional fluctuations. But Qin Ge didn’t find anything amiss in Peng Hu’s “sea area.” He strolled slowly down the corridor, which extended endlessly and disappeared into the distance beyond his sight.
Although this “sea area” was unique, Qin Ge didn’t think it was abnormal.
He had seen genuinely abnormal sea areas, filled with things that couldn’t be explained logically, and without exception, they emitted strong hostility toward outsiders who entered the “sea area.”
During his psychological adjuster assessment, he participated in eleven consecutive practical tests, patrolling eleven abnormal sea areas. In the grueling six-hour assessment, Qin Ge was repeatedly tormented by abnormal sea areas, and he had even entertained terrifying thoughts that he, too, might become abnormal.
The pain and fear he experienced at that time still gave him lingering shivers when he thought about it now.
But Peng Hu’s “sea area” was normal. Despite the unbelievably long corridor, Qin Ge felt no hint of hostility. This hospital corridor was quiet and clean, devoid of stains and incomprehensible structures.
It greeted Qin Ge calmly and gently, which he knew was because Peng Hu had absolute trust in him.
What’s more interesting was that he rarely encountered so much work-related content in other people’s sea areas.
A “sea area” was the mental realm of a sentinel or a guide, and it usually contained things they loved or feared. Things they loved were often displayed infinitely; Qin Ge had seen a “sea area” surrounded by countless pieces of fried chicken. On the other hand, things they feared would be locked away deep inside.
Fear wouldn’t disappear from a person’s life, but it could be suppressed and locked away so that it couldn’t negatively affect the “sea area.”
Qin Ge didn’t know what Peng Hu feared; it might be hidden in one of these countless rooms.
But what he saw clearly was what Peng Hu loved.
After emerging from the “sea area,” Qin Ge felt a brief dizziness.
He closed his eyes and steadied himself by placing a hand on Peng Hu’s shoulder.
Peng Hu sat in the chair, and Qin Ge stood behind him, placing his hands on the back of Peng Hu’s head, lowering his head, and bringing his nose close to the top of Peng Hu’s head.
This was how Qin Ge entered another person’s “sea area.” He would release the power of his spiritual body, communicate with the other person’s spiritual body, and gain temporary access with permission.
His timid spiritual body didn’t take on a complete form. Only his hands were enveloped in a gentle white mist.
The other three members of the Adjustment Department stood by, watching with rapt attention.
Qin Ge withdrew his hands. The mist-like white gas on his hands disappeared.
“Qin Ge, what is your spiritual body like?” Xie Zijing suddenly asked.
“Can you save me?” Peng Hu almost simultaneously spoke with Xie Zijing.
Qin Ge selectively answered the questions.
“I don’t know,” Hhe told Peng Hu, “but I’ll do my best.”
Peng Hu gripped Qin Ge’s hand, bowed first, then pressed his forehead against the back of Qin Ge’s hand, not saying a word for a long time, gradually starting to tremble.
“When Peng Hu asked me to save him, he wasn’t referring to the ‘sea area’ issue,” Qin Ge said to the other three, “Peng Hu’s ‘sea area’ is absolutely normal.”
Looking at the three people in front of him, who were clearly full of curiosity, he couldn’t help but speak further, “To be honest, compared to me, he’s even more normal. He loves his job very much.”
Bai Xiaoyuan was the first to react, “Your ‘sea area’ is not normal?”
“My ‘sea area’ is not normal either,” Xie Zijing suddenly said.
Both Bai Xiaoyuan and Tang Cuo were equally astonished, and they looked at Xie Zijing simultaneously. Xie Zijing appreciated their concern and nodded continuously, “It’s nothing. Adults are generally not too normal.”
Qin Ge: “…”
I know! He shouted in his mind: I know you’re not normal! But please don’t corrupt Bai and Tang in our department!
Xie Zijing turned his head and saw Qin Ge looking displeased. He quickly composed himself and said seriously, “The chief is not happy; let’s have a meeting.”
Qin Ge had no idea how to interact with Xie Zijing. He suppressed his inner frustration and decided to deal with the matter at hand first.
Peng Hu had already left the Crisis Management Office, so Qin Ge decided to share the information he had gathered from his visit to the hospital yesterday.
The bleeding walls in the operating room, infants crawling out, and scenes from decades ago replaying in front of him were all impossible occurrences.
And the witness, Peng Hu, showed no signs of abnormality in his mental state, and his “sea area” was also normal.
Qin Ge believed that Peng Hu was lying.
However, this lie was so specific and detailed that it must have been described to him by someone else if it wasn’t something he had personally witnessed—it wasn’t his “hallucination,” but information he had received from someone else.
“The reason I deduce this is because he told another lie,” Qin Ge said. “Yesterday, I happened to sit on the bench in front of the Hospital History Museum for a while when I went to the hospital. If Peng Hu was indeed sitting in that spot, then he couldn’t have seen Room 6 of the operating room, let alone the face of an infant on a window.”
This time, even Tang Cuo sensed that something was amiss. “Is there an issue with that operating room? Did Peng Hu want someone to notice that room?”
Qin Ge nodded. “The person who actually saw these abnormal scenes might not be Peng Hu.”
Tang Cuo suddenly seemed excited. He scratched his ear and said cautiously, “Regarding that operating room, I actually know quite a few secrets.”
Qin Ge: “Huh?!”
“The 267th Hospital is specifically for special individuals, so there are many urban legends about it. There’s the Red Lady, the Headless Ghost Child, the crying at night during the Ghost Festival, a one-handed young ghost, the sound of a child crying every fourth day of the month, the faceless sisters…” Tang Cuo counted on his fingers while talking; his face was no longer flushed from alcohol but instead filled with excitement.
Xie Zijing and Bai Xiaoyuan’s eyes lit up.
Qin Ge was exasperated. “…Tang Cuo, don’t be so knowledgeable about boring areas.”
Tang Cuo closed his mouth dejectedly.
The key to the problem seemed to lie with the operating room. Qin Ge decided to go to the hospital again with the others.
Bai Xiaoyuan went to request a vehicle, and Tang Cuo was still sulking over not being able to finish his topic about urban legends. Qin Ge decided to take Xie Zijing to the Personnel Department to handle some paperwork. While waiting for the elevator, Xie Zijing leaned close to Qin Ge and asked him, “Is that the posture you always use when you patrol other people’s sea areas?”
Qin Ge glanced at Xie Zijing’s medical examination report and noticed that one section was left empty. Xie Zijing hadn’t undergone any psychological or mental assessments at 267th Hospital.
He was about to ask about the empty section when Xie Zijing interrupted him inexplicably, leaving him somewhat bewildered. “What’s wrong?”
“When will you help me patrol my ‘sea area’?” Xie Zijing followed him into the elevator, smiling.
Qin Ge did indeed have this thought. Gao Tianyue hadn’t returned yet, and Xie Zijing would have to stay with him for at least another week. Having a sentinel with an abnormal “sea area” beside him was like suicide.
Especially when this person was harboring romantic fantasies about him.
Thinking of romantic fantasies, he seemed to hear his university mentor’s hysterical voice.
“The test point for romantic fantasies is completely different from ordinary imagination! You must remember that the essence of romantic fantasies is a person’s longing for a beautiful relationship—a subconscious attempt to fill a deep-seated regret. So, what is another name for romantic fantasies? That’s right, Narcissus fantasies. Its origin is self-protection, self-pity, and self-love, so we must never destroy it rudely. Whether you’re a guide or an adjuster—Qin Ge, stop reading novels; I’m talking about you—look at the blackboard—the premise of solving the problem is to first identify the source of their romantic fantasies. This source usually lies in their childhood and adolescence.”
Self-protection, self-repair, and then filling one’s emptiness with false love. When you analyzed romantic fantasies in detail, the reasons behind them were heart-wrenching. It was like building a mirage on fragile sand, often causing the “sea areas” of sentries and guides to slowly collapse when they were unaware.
Qin Ge turned his head and glanced at Xie Zijing, realizing that he was still wearing the same clothes as yesterday and that his hair looked even greasier than before, which was suspicious.
The pity that had accompanied his annoyance yesterday now grew heavier and sank deeper.
According to the usual procedure, he should establish a case first, conduct a few tests, thoroughly understand Xie Zijing’s emotions and personality type, and then have a serious and in-depth conversation with him… Qin Ge began to think about how to help Xie Zijing restore his “sea area” to normal.
“That posture is quite ambiguous,” Xie Zijing suddenly murmured, “I like it.”
Qin Ge: “…”
Xie Zijing fell silent. He leaned against the elevator, wearing a mysterious smile, as if he were imagining something that had piqued his interest.
Qin Ge inexplicably felt a shiver down his spine.
He remembered another point that his mentor had pounded into them during class.
—Without exception, for those who have romantic fantasies, their “sea areas” are unbelievably yellow.
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