Chapter 28: The Female Patient in Ward Two

Chapter 28: The Female Patient in Ward Two

Zhang Sanlu sat on the sofa in the hall, clutching a sketchbook, scribbling as he occasionally glanced up at the television. Three or five patients, standing or sitting, all stared at the morning news playing on the screen. Many weren’t watching out of interest, but simply to fill the monotonous days with purposeless white noise.

A door to one of the wards creaked open, followed by the rapid patter of footsteps.

Zhang Sanlu looked up to see a thin girl running toward him.

She seemed pale from lack of sunlight, her skin almost sickly white, like delicate porcelain, exuding a fragile beauty. Her features were lovely, but her slenderness made the simple hospital gown hang loosely, appearing oversized on her slight frame. The girl strode boldly down the corridor, whether from illness or temperament, her manner was strikingly extroverted.

She plopped herself down on the long sofa opposite the TV. The chubby girl sitting there quickly scooted aside. No sooner had the pale girl sat than she sprang to her feet, then suddenly drew her finger lightly across the chubby girl’s hand: from the back of her right hand, over her head, to her left hand, as if playing a peculiar game.

She then yanked an empty chair, its legs scraping against the floor with a harsh squeal. Turning the chair backward, she straddled it, sitting directly in front of Zhang Sanlu.

Her movements, fluid and practiced, unfolded as if rehearsed.

She rested her arms atop the chair back, her chin gently placed on her folded hands, a smile playing at her lips.

“Can I have one?” she asked.

Zhang Sanlu was momentarily puzzled, unsure what this girl—clearly showing symptoms of mania—meant. He shrugged, replying, “Help yourself.”

She smiled, reached into his pencil box, picked out a pencil, and, with a casual flick, held it between her lips.

Before she could speak, the chubby girl beside her reached out, miming a lighter.

Zhang Sanlu noticed the “lighter” was actually a wooden block.

The girl held the pencil between two fingers, took a deep imaginary inhale, then pretended to exhale a smoke ring toward Zhang Sanlu.

He smiled—her breath carried a fresh scent, and he almost felt she’d actually blown a smoke ring at him. In a psychiatric hospital, strange behaviors were commonplace.

“You haven’t had an interview with Mediterranean yet, have you?” she asked.

Zhang Sanlu didn’t understand, but politely shook his head.

“Oh, I mean Zhang Wei,” she clarified.

He recalled the physician’s badge. “No, but I’ve been to his office.”

Suddenly, she asked, “By the way, what’s your name?”

“I’m Zhang Sanlu.”

She extended her pale, slender hand. “Ren Qingzi.”

He reached out as well, but before their hands met, she quickly pulled hers back. She tossed the pencil into his box, then pointed to the no-smoking sign on the wall.

“Don’t smoke here next time. Smoking isn’t allowed.”

“Hahaha…”

Zhang Sanlu was unexpectedly tickled, laughing so hard his body rocked, drawing the attention of those around.

Ren Qingzi stood up, cheerily blocked a passing care worker, and called out, “Hey beautiful, when will you check my room?”

Before the worker could answer, an older nurse approached, frowning. “Ren Qingzi, time for your medication.”

Ren Qingzi snapped her fingers, took the medicine, popped it into her mouth, and drank the water from a small paper cup in one gulp.

As the nurse came toward Zhang Sanlu, he saw Ren Qingzi behind her, sticking out her tongue to reveal several pills, then grinning before quickly retracting her tongue.

“Zhang Sanlu, take your medicine.”

He accepted the pills, put them in his mouth, and swallowed.

“Open your mouth, let me check,” the nurse insisted.

He opened his mouth for her inspection, and as she turned away, swiftly slipped the pills from under his tongue into his palm.

Ren Qingzi watched him from her chair, saw him hide his pills too, and pursed her lips in a smile before sauntering off.

Ren Qingzi left a deep impression. She was bold, brimming with confidence, radiating a sense of power and destruction. Compared to the somewhat subdued Zhang Sanlu, she seemed like another side of the world.

Zhang Sanlu enjoyed a rare peaceful afternoon. After dinner, he returned to his room to find Old Li already asleep—clearly last night had been nerve-wracking.

Not wanting to sleep early, Zhang Sanlu cherished this calm, fearing that sleep would send him back to the other side. He picked up a book, lying in bed reading, scribbling and doodling as his thoughts wandered.

The door suddenly creaked open. He didn’t lower his book; most likely, it was the on-duty doctor and nurse making their rounds.

“What are you doing?” someone asked, a hand pressing down on the book.

“Your drawing is ugly. Did you draw me?” Ren Qingzi circled to his side, bending to examine his sketches.

“Don’t be so quiet—you’ll trigger my stress response.”

“Alright, alright.” She sat at the foot of the bed, crossing her legs. “Why didn’t you take the sleeping pill just now?”

“You didn’t take yours either.” Unable to read, Zhang Sanlu set the book aside.

“Lean in, I’ll tell you a secret,” Ren Qingzi said mysteriously, scanning the room to confirm Old Li was asleep, then beckoned Zhang Sanlu closer.

“What?” He was curious, a bit nervous, as he sat up.

Ren Qingzi’s cherry-red lips pressed together; she tilted her head and brought her mouth close to his ear. He could feel her breath—warm and gentle, like a spring breeze stirring ripples across a lake.

That faint breath carried a subtle fragrance, warming his cheeks.

Her eyes sparkled with mischief; she blinked, the corners of her mouth lifting in a conspiratorial grin. In a whisper, she said, “Zhang Sanlu, I have a secret to tell you—keep it safe.”

His heart pounded, a blend of anxiety and excitement flooding his body.

Ren Qingzi reached behind his neck.

Zhang Sanlu’s expression changed instantly. He swiftly grabbed her wrist.