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Ping An Asylum
Chapter 157: Captive Mentality.
While Wen Jianyan went to the treatment room, several people, led by Su Cheng and Luce, explored deeper into the dark corridor.
The corridor was pitch-black, seemingly endless, like a tomb. Even if you threw a stone, it wouldn’t land on anything substantial.
The group proceeded with even more caution, lightening their footsteps as they moved toward the depths of the corridor.
Just as Wen Jianyan speculated, the treatment room was located at the front end of the west corridor, occupying a relatively small area, and they quickly reached it.
Beyond that point was an abyss of unknown territory.
After walking forward for some time, a tightly closed iron door appeared in the vague darkness ahead.
The group exchanged glances and silently approached.
The iron door was securely locked, and next to it, a metal plate was affixed to the wall. However, the text on it was blurry, making it impossible to discern what it said.
Most importantly, it didn’t appear on the map.
This was a difficult puzzle to explain.
Su Cheng tried pushing the iron door.
The door remained firmly locked, standing motionless in the darkness.
Though he had anticipated this result, Su Cheng couldn’t help but sigh.
Honestly, it would be great if Wen Jianyan were here at this moment.
With a small piece of wire deftly manipulated in his hand, Wen Jianyan could easily handle any locked door, making them seem like mere illusions before him.
Though startled at first when he first encountered him, Su Cheng had to admit that having Wen Jianyan on the team made many things much easier.
Luce approached from behind and said, “Let me handle this.”
He was also a senior anchor who had experienced numerous instances, so he always kept some relevant props in his backpack.
Luce took out a small bottle of liquid from his backpack and carefully poured it into the lock with its fine nozzle.
Accompanied by the sizzling sound of corrosion, a small portion of the metal around the lock began to melt visibly. In less than a minute, the lock core was successfully corroded.
“Done,” Luce said, putting away his prop in his hand.
Before everyone, the heavy iron door slowly opened a crack, releasing an even denser darkness.
Taking a deep breath, the group cautiously pushed the iron door open.
A strong, complex odor, reminiscent of decay, hit them. The smell was a mixture of dust, blood, and dampness, with a faint recognition of formaldehyde.
Although they had experienced numerous instances, the sudden encounter with such an impactful odor caused the expressions of the group to momentarily contort.
With a faint sound of “click,” the flashlight, exchanged from the system store, began to work.
The feeble beam of light barely pierced through the darkness, illuminating the path ahead for them.
The place seemed abandoned for a long time; faded walls, dirty water stains, dusty floors, glass shards, and instrument fragments were scattered underfoot, emitting creaking sounds as they walked on them.
The layout inside appeared complex, with dark halls interconnected by seemingly endless corridors leading deeper.
Blond held the flashlight, cautiously approaching the side of the room. With the faint light, he struggled to discern the signs on the walls:
“Something… s… u?”
In the midst of silence, the sound of liquid dripping in the darkness could be faintly heard.
Su Cheng purchased the “Hand of Guidance” and activated it.
A red arrow danced in the air, pointing toward the darkness.
Clearly, there should be hidden items ahead.
All areas related to hidden items would have varying degrees of increased difficulty.
The group became even more cautious.
“Let’s go in and take a look.” Su Cheng lowered his voice.
The others nodded, carefully advancing forward.
In the vast space, the deliberately lightened footsteps echoed as they slowly moved toward the depths of the darkness.
***
Inside the treatment room, there was complete silence.
Unconsciously, the distance between the two became exceptionally close.
In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room:
[?]
[???]
[T-Th-This… What’s the direction of this instance?]
[Why does Dr. Reese seem to know the peculiar behaviors of several high-risk patients and maybe even be involved?]
[And don’t you feel his choice of words is strange…]
[Yes, ‘we,’ as if there’s some unknown connection between them… a strange sense of unity.]
The wound had been properly bandaged, so this posture naturally evolved into an embrace.
The loose attendant uniform was pulled up, revealing a small section of the waist, easily gripped in the man’s palm, with cold, animal-like hands tightly grasping the warmth and firmness of human skin.
Wen Jianyan’s back was straight, almost to the point of stiffness.
He lowered his eyes, long eyelashes casting deep shadows on his pale face, hiding the expression in his eyes. There was no apparent expression on his face; his lips were straight, forming a bloodless line.
Dr. Reese silently lowered his head, his cold nose touching the side of the other’s neck.
Under the lenses, those green eyes, almost tinged with a strange golden color, sparkled with increasingly intense dark flames.
He further brought his arms together, making the already overly close distance even more inseparable and their breaths intertwining—
Suddenly, Wen Jianyan lifted his hand, placing it on the other’s shoulder.
He raised his eyes, revealing those amber eyes as calm as an ancient well, and smiled naturally, asking, “Doctor, what are you talking about?”
“…”
Dr. Reese paused, looking at him.
The young man’s voice was so calm and composed, as if he hadn’t been affected by what the other had just said, reaching a point of complete composure.
“Are you feeling unwell?”
Wen Jianyan slightly tilted his head back, creating some distance. “Or are you overworked?”
These two sentences were both light and familiar.
These were indeed the questions that Dr. Reese asked Wen Jianyan when he grabbed the cart at the elevator entrance.
Now, when spoken from Wen Jianyan’s mouth, no matter how sincere the tone, it carried a slightly mocking undertone.
“As an important doctor in our Ping An Asylum,” a smile played on the young man’s lips as he calmly locked eyes with the other, “even if it’s for the sake of other patients in our hospital, please take care of yourself.”
“…”
The moment his words fell, the air in the treatment room became deathly still.
Emotionless gazes intertwined in the air, deep green and amber, in confrontation. Time seemed to stop passing; each second stretched to its limit. The air became dense and oppressive as if pressing tightly on one’s chest, making it impossible to breathe.
“Heh.”
Dr. Reese suddenly chuckled.
Casually retracting his hand, he straightened his body and took two slow steps backward, creating distance between them. He said, “There’s actually nothing wrong. Thank you for your concern; I’ll be careful.”
Wen Jianyan raised his hand, straightening the disheveled collar from the recent contact.
He leisurely fastened each button, his pale skin, and a bit of reddish blood-soaked bandage concealed by the attendant uniform. Besides a bit of dried blood at the collar, he now looked no different from before.
The young man smiled faintly and stood up from the iron bed.
“No, I should be thanking you for helping me with the wound.”
“Well, since there’s nothing else, I’ll take my leave.” Wen Jianyan shrugged nonchalantly. “After all, those tasks won’t complete themselves, right?”
“Of course.”
Dr. Reese nodded with a calm expression. Leaning against the table, his white coat remained immaculate, with only a slight wrinkle at the hem. There was no indication of the somewhat ambiguous actions he had just taken with his patient.
The cold lenses rested on the bridge of his prominent nose, concealing his snake-like emerald eyes beneath.
He stared intently at the back of the young man until the door opened and closed, swallowing up the naturally relaxed figure until he was out of his sight.
“Snap.”
The door to the treatment room closed behind him, emitting a crisp sound.
In that moment, Wen Jianyan’s knees went weak.
The composure he had displayed melted away like thin snow, leaving only a pale weakness, reminiscent of someone who had narrowly escaped disaster. A shallow layer of sweat formed on his forehead, and his black hair clung damply to his cheeks, adding a touch of vulnerability to his appearance.
Leaning his back against the wall, he took a deep breath.
Dr. Reese’s recent maneuver had indeed startled him.
Realizing that the other could see through his identity despite the restrictions of the ID card in the instance, Wen Jianyan’s mind went blank for a moment, almost forgetting how to breathe.
In those brief seconds, all the worst possible outcomes raced through his mind.
The worst situation would be Dr. Reese exposing him as a psychiatric patient disguised as an attendant, restraining him to the iron bed, and continuing what was left unfinished last time.
Wen Jianyan almost couldn’t resist the instinctive urge to activate a prop for a quick escape.
However, soon after Dr. Reese posed that “question,” Wen Jianyan instantly regained composure. The sudden panic was suppressed, and clarity and rationality took over.
Clearly, from the very first moment Dr. Reese saw him in the attendant uniform, he recognized his identity. However, Dr. Reese didn’t call the attendants to expose his identity. Was it because he “favored” him?
Absolutely impossible.
Although Wen Jianyan had yet to find the reason why high-risk patients collectively showed interest in him, one thing he could be certain of was that this so-called “favor” would never be expressed in any way acceptable by normal human standards.
These almost special care-like “affections” endowed him with a certain degree of power in this instance, specifically targeting him. Using this power, Wen Jianyan could manipulate the emotions of these high-risk patients, play with them like puppets, and thereby gain some breathing room.
However, once he indulged in the “gifted” sense of power, it meant being subdued, alienated, and transformed.
People threatened with their lives tend to uncontrollably develop desires for submission and attachment to the one imposing the threat. It was an instinctive self-preservation mechanism—falling in love with your dominator so that you could survive.
It was a captive mentality.
Also known as the Stockholm Syndrome.
In the “Nightmare Live Room”–in such a nearly enclosed, oppressive, survival-of-the-fittest environment, with one instance after another, never-ending live broadcasts, and an unfathomable abyss…
Humans are most easily captured in such an environment by instinctive emotions.
Unfortunately, Wen Jianyan was an overly self-aware egoist.
He understood these terms too well, knew the workings of the human brain, and wouldn’t be domesticated.
All these so-called “emotions” were mere illusions and lethal weapons. In this world filled with madness and slaughter, the only thing one could rely on was oneself.
When Dr. Reese asked about his “choice,” Wen Jianyan could barely control his laughter.
Which one does he prefer?
It’s absurd.
Every single one of you is an enemy.
Given the chance, I would hesitate no longer to slaughter each and every one of you.
So, Wen Jianyan also understood very clearly that these “affections” from high-risk patients are distorted, alienated, and crazy existences.
If he were Dr. Reese—
A psychopath and sadist.
He would unhesitatingly capture the other, restrain them, and cut off all possible ways for them to escape—whether it be limbs or frontal lobes—to ensure the other maximally accepted his “love.”
Dr. Reese didn’t do this, not because he didn’t want to.
But because he can’t.
After realizing this, many details connected in Wen Jianyan’s mind, and suddenly everything became clear.
Even if the other party could surpass the limits of the instance and become aware of the change in his identity, Dr. Reese would always be an “NPC” in the instance. As long as he couldn’t escape this identity, the other’s actions would be constrained by the rules of the instance.
His initial thoughts were not wrong.
The “identity card” was an unquestionable protection in front of NPCs, regardless of whether this NPC had become powerful enough to possess consciousness.
So, as long as Wen Jianyan didn’t actively break the rules, the other party couldn’t do anything to him.
Leaning against the wall, Wen Jianyan breathed a long sigh, wiping the sweat off his face with his hand.
Although he understood this rationally…
The psychological pressure was still substantial!
He wondered how Su Cheng and the others were doing in their exploration…
With these thoughts in mind, Wen Jianyan stood up straight, turning his head to look toward the depths of the corridor.
He furrowed his brows.
The reason he patiently interacted with Dr. Reese, cooperated with his topics, and endured the lengthy medication time was to give them enough time for exploration.
Wen Jianyan opened the live broadcast interface, glancing at the time displayed.
It was approaching the time they had agreed upon, but there was no sign of those people in the corridor.
Wen Jianyan turned his head and scanned the door of the treatment room next to him.
Inside the room, there was complete silence, and Dr. Reese seemed to have no intention of catching up.
Taking a deep breath and making a determined decision, Wen Jianyan lightened his steps, carefully moving toward the depths of the corridor.
Soon, he arrived at an iron door.
The door was slightly ajar, and the lock was corroded.
Wen Jianyan touched it through the fabric—still slightly warm.
It seemed that they had entered through this door, and not much time had passed since then.
Wen Jianyan cautiously pushed open the door and silently stepped inside.
He exchanged for a flashlight and swept the entire space with its light.
Clearly, this seemed to be some abandoned operating room… or laboratory.
Scattered iron beds, covered in dust and brownish stains resembling long-dried blood, were haphazardly strewn across the darkness. Various outdated instruments, cold metallic objects, and crumpled papers were scattered all over, reflecting a faint light under the beam of the flashlight.
The flashlight swept over the ground.
There were fresh footprints on the dusty floor.
Wen Jianyan casually picked up a crumpled piece of paper, unfolded it, and shone the flashlight on it.
Most of it consisted of strange symbols and numbers, making little sense.
He continued walking, gripping the flashlight.
The temperature around him seemed to be dropping, and the icy air penetrated the thin fabric of his attendant uniform, causing a subtle discomfort on his skin.
The air became more humid, and as he advanced, the vague sound of dripping water became closer and clearer.
In the second large hall, many shelves were scattered in disarray, holding jars filled with murky yellow liquid. Most of them contained human brains, soaked into a nauseating pale color, floating in the liquid. Some jars held other organs, deformed fetuses, eyeballs, hearts, kidneys…
Drip, drip.
The sound of water droplets echoed in the darkness.
In the “Integrity First” live broadcast room:
[Sigh… The anchor really found this place.]
[It’s not that difficult to find, right? At most, it’s not on the map, but the main door isn’t hidden. Many anchors should have discovered this laboratory, right?]
[Indeed, it’s not hard to find… but, how should I put it, finding this place is simple; surviving and leaving is the hard part.]
Wen Jianyan felt a strong sense of uneasiness.
He could only hear his own footsteps, breathing, and heartbeat. Apart from that, there was nothing to be heard or seen.
With a narrow and restricted field of vision, the flashlight couldn’t completely dispel the darkness, leaving him with an eerie feeling that something might be lurking in the corners from a distance.
Each semi-transparent jar was illuminated by the flashlight, only to quickly descend into darkness again.
The deformed, pale limbs floated and sank in the liquid, their distorted forms visible through the dirty glass surface of the jars, reflecting his lonely figure.
Soon, the path reached its end.
A massive iron door blocked the way once again.
The flashlight illuminated the lock on the door.
The keyhole showed signs of corrosion, but it looked different from the previous door. The door only had a partially opened gap, seemingly stuck or blocked by something, and the surrounding marks were too chaotic….
Wen Jianyan twisted his wrist, and the flashlight’s beam descended.
Near the iron door on the ground, a small bottle was knocked over, and corrosive liquid was oozing out, making a sizzling sound on the floor.
Bending down, Wen Jianyan used the edge of his clothes to pick up the bottle.
He gave it a shake.
There was still some liquid left inside.
…Unknowingly?
Or did something unforeseen happen?
Wen Jianyan lowered his eyes, contemplating the bottle in his hand.
Suddenly, a “whooshing” sound came from behind, as if something was heading straight for the back of his head!
Since entering this place, Wen Jianyan has maintained high alertness. His pupils contracted, and instinctively, he crouched down just in time to sidestep.
A loud “thud” echoed, sounding like something hit the iron door, creating a hollow noise.
Wen Jianyan moved quickly, his well-trained body agile and robust. He turned around smoothly—
He gasped, forcefully controlling his wrist to prevent the liquid from splashing on his hand.
The flashlight swung rapidly, illuminating the attacker’s face in the darkness.
It was Luce.
His pale face was distorted, and his eyes were filled with fear and a hint of eerie ferocity. His dilated pupils and bloody hands, gripping a wooden stick, swung wildly in the air.
He mumbled and repeated a few words incessantly:
“Don’t come here, don’t come here, don’t, don’t, don’t come here!”
Wen Jianyan, while narrowly avoiding the attacks, tried to awaken Luce’s consciousness:
“Hey, wake up, it’s me!”
Luce seemed oblivious, continuing to swing the wooden stick in his hand.
Wen Jianyan, forced to retreat step by step, realized he couldn’t continue like this.
He gritted his teeth, strategically backing up to a heavy shelf. In the moment Luce staggered toward him, Wen Jianyan agilely spun around and, using his shoulder, forcefully slammed the shelf—
The iron frame swayed and moved toward Luce.
Countless jars containing various limbs rolled down, accompanied by a loud bang, firmly crushing Luce to the ground.
Even so, Luce continued to kick his legs wildly, his throat emitting a beast-like growl, “Don’t come here, don’t come here! Don’t, don’t, don’t come here!”
Wen Jianyan looked solemn.
He didn’t know what Luce had seen to become so frenzied. Nevertheless, to prevent him from posing a threat to himself or others, Wen Jianyan approached to kick the wooden stick out of Luce’s hand.
The stick rolled into the darkness, stopping after hitting something.
Wen Jianyan paused, subconsciously turning his gaze toward the source of the sound.
There, something lay on the ground.
A pitch-black mass curled up in the dust, seemed to be trembling.
Wen Jianyan had an ominous premonition.
Cautiously, he circled around and approached from the side, using the flashlight to illuminate the scene.
It was…
One of Luce’s team members.
He half-lay on the ground, panting heavily, his wrist moving rapidly within his pants, his face pale and contorted in pain, and his eyes filled with madness and dilution.
…M*sturbation.
Wen Jianyan’s expression became even more serious.
If Luce’s symptoms could be explained by exposure to some kind of stimulus, this person’s condition could not be attributed to fear unless…
Wen Jianyan suddenly thought of something, and his pupils contracted slightly.
He turned around, swiftly walking to Luce, who was pinned under the shelf. He grabbed one of Luce’s wrists, shining the flashlight on it.
Under the shaky, dim light, the transparent wristband revealed clearly visible text.
[Subject 089 – Persecutory Delusion Disorder]
The agonizing screams echoed in his ears.
“Don’t come here! Don’t come here! Don’t come here!!!”
Wen Jianyan gritted his teeth.
This was bad.
It seemed like… this laboratory made each “patient’s” symptoms come true.
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