By The Talking Elbow

Hospital, 11:30 PM.

Old Liu, the doctor on duty tonight, had just refilled his mug with strong tea when the door was violently kicked open with a bang.

“What do you want?” Old Liu roared angrily.

“Erdao, hold him down.”

“Where should I hold him?”

“On the table.”

Erdao strode quickly towards Old Liu, and with a thud, slammed Old Liu’s head onto the table. Half of Liu’s face burned with pain.

Pao Ge slowly pushed Chen Shuo and Wang Huiling into the ward. “Chen Shuo confessed,” he said, “that you took 50,000 yuan from him and conspired to have his nephew committed to a psychiatric hospital?”

“Help! Someone!” Old Liu roared. “They’re causing trouble in the hospital!”

Urgent footsteps echoed from the corridor, but Pao Ge showed no signs of panic. He simply took off his Tang suit, slowly rolled up his shirt sleeves, revealing arms full of tattoos and muscles.

Like a primal beast shedding its disguise when facing prey, he signaled that anyone he targeted should cherish their life.

The moment two male nurses appeared at the doorway, Pao Ge leaned slightly to the right, dodging an incoming punch. The next second, he landed a thunderous uppercut to one nurse’s jaw, leaving him stunned and immobile.

Before the other nurse could react, Pao Ge, like a jaguar, darted in front of him and delivered another uppercut to his jaw!

“Too weak.”

Only after his words fell did two thuds resound as the two male nurses collapsed to the ground, unconscious, like two wooden sticks.

Pao Ge turned to Old Liu, who was still pinned to the table. “Anyone else?” he asked.

“No… no one else.”

“Can you speak properly now?”

“Yes! Yes!”

“Alright, all three of you, squat in a line,” Pao Ge said. He pulled up a chair, sat down, and crossed his legs. “Does Chen Ji really have a mental illness?”

“No, no,” Old Liu said. “His brain wiring is just a bit unusual. He has slight violent and depressive tendencies, but he’s not actually sick.”

Pao Ge lit a cigarette. “That’s strange,” he mused. “If he anticipated your moves, why did you still manage to get him committed?”

“He wanted to use you to get revenge on us!”

Pao Ge shook his head. “No, that’s not right. If he specifically sought me out for a loan, he must know what I do. Why wouldn’t he just give me money to break your legs? Why bother getting himself committed to a psychiatric hospital?!”

Chen Shuo: “…”

Pao Ge suddenly asked, “Are you responsible for his parents’ deaths?”

Chen Shuo looked as if he wanted to cry but couldn’t. “His parents died in a car accident,” he insisted. “The driver responsible was found. It has nothing to do with us.”

Pao Ge gestured for Chen Shuo to hold out his hand, then flicked cigarette ash into his palm. “A seventeen-year-old’s parents have only been gone for half a year, and you, his aunt and uncle, are already plotting to take his house. You’re truly despicable. And you, doctor, you old geezer, you’ve done this kind of thing before, haven’t you?”

“I’ve never harmed anyone before,” Old Liu hastily said. “All the patients I’ve handled were people who committed crimes and didn’t want to go to prison, so they came to me asking for a diagnostic certificate.”

“Oh?” Pao Ge mused. “What kind of crimes did those people commit?”

“The most recent one was a street figure named Wang Long, who deals in earthwork. Half a year ago, he hit and killed a couple with his car…” Old Liu stopped there, suddenly looking up at Pao Ge in terror.

With a hiss, Pao Ge absently pressed the cigarette butt into Chen Shuo’s palm. A scream echoed through the corridor.

Pao Ge put on his black Tang suit and, grabbing Old Liu by his sparse hair, began walking out. “I know why he insisted on going to the psychiatric hospital now,” he said. “To harm a child like that, you truly lack virtue. Erdao, give them some punishment to help them remember. I’m taking this doctor to the sixth floor. I know Wang Long; he’s not an easy man to deal with.”

Chen Shuo trembled like a sieve. “This is a hospital!” he stammered. “There are cameras! You can’t commit violence here!”

Erdao scratched a scar on his bald head. “Pao Ge,” he asked, “immediate execution?”

“Keep it up.”

Snores rose and fell in the ward. Chen Ji lay on his bed, eyes wide open, quietly staring at the ceiling.

He found that the sleep-talk in the psychiatric hospital was exceptionally frequent and exceptionally difficult to decipher.

In a trance, he felt as if he had returned to his childhood, again hearing the clatter and rumble of a green-skinned train starting.

As a child, Chen Ji was frail and sickly. In his dreams, he always heard shouts and battle cries, so his father often had to take him to Beijing for medical treatment.

When they had no money, they would buy standing tickets for the green-skinned train.

They would sit in the open space between two train cars. When Chen Ji was tired, he would lie in his father’s arms and sleep for a while. When he was hungry, his father would take instant noodles from his backpack, queue for hot water, and then hold the cup for him to eat first.

When he woke up, Chen Ji would press his face against the train door window, full of questions, constantly asking strange things, and his father would answer patiently.

Later, when he was 12 and had recovered from his illness, his father also made money in business and bought a villa.

On summer nights, his mother would teach him to use a flashlight to find cicadas that had just emerged from the ground in the yard. After soaking them in salt water, they would deep-fry and eat them.

During Chinese New Year, his mother would take Chen Ji to cut window decorations, paste Spring Festival couplets, and steam beautifully shaped flower buns.

On the hospital bed, lost in thought, Chen Ji gently wiped away tears with his finger.

Li Qingniao appeared by his window at some point. “Now,” he said, “if you sell me something, I can answer another question for you.”

Chen Ji’s eyes were vacant yet profound. “What do you want to buy?” he asked.

“A cicada.”

“How old of a cicada?”

“A twelve-year-old cicada.”

“Not for sale.”

Just then, Chen Shuo’s painful cries echoed from downstairs, reverberating throughout the hospital.

There was no time left.

Chen Ji rolled over and jumped off the bed. He took a dagger from a bandage wrapped around his inner thigh, dropped the sheath, and headed straight for a certain spot in the ward.

He was a little scared, afraid of what he was about to do, and afraid of the consequences afterward.

But he had no other choice.

Wang Long, after drinking, committed a hit-and-run, killing a man and a woman who later died due to delayed treatment. The next day, Wang Long surrendered to the police, but he had already obtained a diagnostic certificate from a psychiatric hospital. The court intended to review the certificate, but Wang Long’s family gathered over sixty earthwork drivers to cause a disturbance at the court. This ultimately led to the matter being dropped, allowing Wang Long to escape judgment and be admitted to the hospital.

But how could you escape judgment?

Chen Ji silently approached Wang Long’s bed and forcefully plunged the dagger downwards.

Wang Long suddenly opened his eyes, grabbing Chen Ji’s wrist with strong, powerful hands. He sneered, “Did you really think I wouldn’t recognize you?”

During the legal proceedings, Chen Ji had always let his lawyer handle things, so he and Wang Long had never met. However, Wang Long had wanted to settle with the victims’ families, so he naturally had someone investigate him.

So when Wang Long saw Chen Ji appear there, he knew what Chen Ji was planning.

“I can compensate you with more money!” he urgently said. “A lot of money! Your parents are gone, you need to learn to look forward!”

He didn’t want to kill anyone again. If he killed again, he’d have to stay here for life.

Silently, Chen Ji pressed the dagger’s tip down hard, moving it inch by inch closer to Wang Long’s chest.

“You’re asking for death!” Wang Long’s strength was ultimately much greater than the youth’s. With a roar, he snatched Chen Ji’s dagger and stabbed it backhand into Chen Ji’s left side, piercing his ribs.

Wang Long had thought this one blow would be enough to incapacitate Chen Ji completely. But to his surprise, the moment he snatched the dagger, Chen Ji offered no resistance at all. Instead, taking advantage of Wang Long’s hands being occupied, he lunged like a wild beast and bit down on his carotid artery!

Blood continuously seeped from between Chen Ji’s lips and teeth, staining the pillow a dark purple.

Chen Ji felt the metallic sweetness in his mouth, and the sensation of blood gushing into his mouth and then flowing out.

It was his first time killing for revenge, and his heart trembled with fear, yet he bit down hard and refused to let go.

Wang Long felt the pain from his neck, which made him tremble as if from an electric current. This was the crisis of approaching death.

He pulled out the dagger from Chen Ji’s chest and abdomen and stabbed it in again savagely. “Let go!” he yelled.

“Let go!”

“Let go…”

With each angry shout and each stab, Chen Ji gave no response. His teeth only clamped down tighter, tearing a piece of flesh from Wang Long’s neck.

Wang Long’s pupils began to dilate. He mumbled, “Is it worth it? Is it worth it…?” while twisting the dagger in his hand.

What Wang Long didn’t understand was that for Chen Ji, his life had long been left in the past by that car accident, an endless and inescapable torment.

Dark purple blood spread over the pristine white pillow, just as it had spread over Chen Ji’s life.

With a click, the iron door of the ward was opened from the outside. Pao Ge, wearing his black Tang suit and still holding Old Liu by his hair, appeared at the doorway.

Wang Long’s right hand finally released the dagger’s hilt and dropped limply.

Chen Ji, his face covered in blood, looked up at Pao Ge. Whether from fear or the after-effects of an adrenaline surge, his entire body was trembling.

Pao Ge sighed. “Too late,” he said.

Chen Ji slumped to the foot of the bed, clutching the wound at his waist. He softly said to Pao Ge, “I’m sorry.”

Pao Ge knew the young man was apologizing for using him. He grinned. “It’s alright,” he said. “Even though you’re dying, it’s not too late to get acquainted. My real name is Chen Chong, but my friends like to call me Pao Ge.”

“Alright, Pao Ge.”

“First time killing? Calm beforehand, full strength during the act, no wasted words—I like that,” Pao Ge said, kicking Old Liu aside and lighting another cigarette for himself.

Chen Ji gave a bitter smile. “Still going to die anyway,” he said.

As he spoke, blood continued to gush from Chen Ji’s wound.

“Want a cigarette?”

“No.”

“Need help with anything?”

“My phone is with Doctor Liu,” Chen Ji said. “It should have recorded evidence of his illegal dealings with my second uncle. Please help me send it out.”

Pao Ge hadn’t expected that, even on the verge of death, the young man would still remember to justly retaliate against every one of his enemies…

He sat beside Chen Ji and asked, “Any other wishes?”

“No,” Chen Ji’s voice grew weaker, and a wave of drowsiness washed over him. Yet he was reluctant to close his eyes, only gazing out the window, where the crescent moon hung like a hook.

In the ward, the patients slowly rose and silently watched.

Li Qingniao came to Chen Ji’s side, slowly stroked his eyes, and softly said, “A steed in a crevice, fire from stone, a body in a dream. Even the forty-nine heavens cannot hold you. Go, go to where you belong.”

Having said this, he reverted to his dazed, foolish expression and sat by the bed. Pao Ge covered Chen Ji with his black Tang suit, then turned and walked towards the darkness outside the ward. “What a pity,” he murmured, “that we met so late.”