Chen Ge studied Wang Hailong's sudden bashfulness with growing curiosity, the man's usual bravado replaced by an awkward shuffling of feet and repeated glances at his brother. The shift was stark; the same person who had stormed into Mu Yang High School demanding the hardest challenge now looked like a schoolboy confessing a crush. "Actually," Wang Hailong began, rubbing the back of his neck harder, "Wenlong and I have a younger brother—Wang Shenglong. Before he turned five, he was completely normal. Loud, mischievous, always getting into trouble, the kind of kid who'd climb anything and talk to anyone. But the day he hit five, everything changed. Overnight, he stopped speaking. Not a word, not even a sound when he was upset. Just… silence."
Chen Ge's confusion deepened, the story intriguing but seemingly unrelated to the morning's events. "What exactly are you getting at?" he asked, arms crossed, the park's cheerful music and distant laughter feeling oddly out of place against the brothers' somber expressions. Wang Hailong checked once more that no one was close enough to overhear, then leaned in, voice dropping to a near-whisper. "Long story short… Boss, in your Haunted House today, I felt a girl on my back. Her feet were on my shoulders, pressing down, riding me like I was a horse. The position, the weight, the cold—it was exactly how Shenglong described the night everything went wrong for him."
Wang Wenlong nodded solemnly, stepping closer to add his piece. "It's true. That night, the three of us shared a bedroom. Past midnight, Shenglong sat up in bed, wide awake, whispering frantically that someone was standing on his shoulders, making it hard to breathe. He begged us to get her off, said it hurt. We thought he was having a nightmare or trying to scare us for fun—kids do that. We told him to lie down and go back to sleep. But the next morning… he opened his mouth, and nothing came out. He could make noises, cry, grunt, but no words, no sentences. It was like someone had stolen his voice."
Wang Hailong's hand returned to his shoulder, fingers digging in as if the memory had left a permanent bruise. His voice trembled slightly as he continued. "After he went mute, we gave him paper to write what he needed. What he drew and wrote… it still haunts us. He said the night before, he'd seen someone standing outside the courtyard wall, just staring at him through the darkness. Then, somehow, that person got inside the house—no doors opening, no windows breaking, just suddenly there, in our room." The words carried the weight of years of unanswered questions, the brothers' faces paling as they relived the childhood terror.
"That doesn't sound that scary on the surface," Chen Ge admitted, though his tone held genuine interest rather than dismissal. He had faced far worse—mirror monsters that bled, doors that opened into blood-soaked worlds—but he let them continue, sensing the depth of their fear.
Wang Hailong's grip tightened, his knuckles whitening. "We lived in a village back then. The courtyard walls were solid brick, two and a half meters high. For someone to stare over them at a child inside the house, they'd have to be at least two-point-six meters tall—maybe more. That's not a normal person. That's… something else." His voice dropped even lower, eyes darting as if expecting the figure to materialize behind Chen Ge. "The scariest part was what happened next. The thing got inside and asked Shenglong to play a game. If he refused, it would take something important from him. Shenglong was too terrified to say no, so he agreed. The game was called 'Who Speaks First.' The moment he nodded, the thing climbed onto his shoulders, standing on them, growing impossibly taller. And then… silence. The next day, his voice was gone forever."
Chen Ge's heart thudded heavily as the pieces fell into place, the name "Third Sick Hall" echoing the black phone's mission and his parents' final note with chilling precision. He stared at Wang Hailong, his usual calm fracturing into an intensity that made the brothers shift uncomfortably. "That's not quite what I meant," he said, voice low and edged with urgency. "What's the full name of this hospital?" The question hung in the air, the park's cheerful bustle fading into background noise as Chen Ge's focus narrowed entirely on the answer.
Wang Hailong blinked, unsettled by the sudden shift in Chen Ge's demeanor—the Haunted House boss's eyes had taken on a sharp, almost predatory gleam. "It was called Jiujiang Third Psychological Convalescence Centre," he answered slowly. "Everyone just shortened it to Third Centre. We were poor back then, living nearby, so it was the only place we could afford. After the family's situation improved, we moved Shenglong to better facilities. The Third Centre's been abandoned five or six years now—boarded up, overgrown, the whole place left to rot."
Chen Ge's breath caught, the black phone warm against his thigh like a silent confirmation. "Is there a section—or building—inside the centre called the Third Sick Hall?" he pressed, the words deliberate, each one carrying the weight of missions past and the shadow of his parents' disappearance.
Wang Hailong exchanged a glance with his brother, both clearly puzzled by Chen Ge's intensity. "That's… yeah, that's what some people called it," Wang Hailong confirmed. "The third building, where Shenglong stayed for treatment, got nicknamed the Third Sick Hall by locals. Same place, just different names. Creepy reputation even back then—patients talking about noises at night, staff quitting suddenly. Why do you ask?"
Chen Ge exhaled slowly, steadying the surge of adrenaline. "I understand now," he said, the words more to himself than the brothers. The connection was undeniable: the hospital from their childhood, the building tied to Shenglong's sudden muteness, was the very Third Sick Hall the black phone had tasked him with. His parents' note, the mirror entity's origins, the key in his pocket—all threads leading to the same abandoned complex. "I know the best psychologist in Jiujiang," he said, turning back to them with renewed purpose. "If possible, take me to meet your brother tonight."
Afraid of refusal, Chen Ge launched into praise before they could object. "Doctor Gao is exceptional—top of his field, years at the best facilities, specializes in childhood trauma and speech disorders. He's helped cases no one else could touch." The words flowed easily; Doctor Gao's reputation was genuine, and Chen Ge needed this meeting—not just for the boy, but for the clues Shenglong might hold about the Third Sick Hall's horrors.
Wang Hailong hesitated, rubbing his tattooed arm. "No problem," he said finally, "but you need to be prepared. Shenglong… he doesn't look normal anymore." His forced smile couldn't hide the pain. "If your doctor's coming, tell him to dress casually—no white coat, nothing that screams 'hospital.' Shenglong freaks out around anything medical."
He fished a black business card from his pocket, matte with silver lettering: Long Hu Fang 1. A stylized wolf's head flanked the name, subtle but unmistakable. Chen Ge's eyes widened as recognition hit. The tattoos, the protective older-brother vibe, the family-owned steamboat chain known for late-night crowds and whispered backroom dealings. Gang ties, or at least deep roots in Jiujiang's rougher circles.
Wang Hailong noticed the realization dawn on Chen Ge's face and leaned in with a wry grin. "It's exactly what you're thinking. Long Hu Fang's Szechuan Steamboat—family business. Contact number's on the back." He flipped the card to reveal a handwritten mobile number.
Chen Ge accepted it with a bright, genuine smile, the implications sinking in. Allies with connections could be useful, especially for what waited in the Third Sick Hall. "Specific address?"
"Come to the old district tonight—Hai Ming Apartments. Shenglong and my dad still live there." Wang Hailong's voice softened, the bravado gone. "We'll be waiting."
Chen Ge pocketed the card, the weight of the coming night settling over him. The Haunted House's success, the new scenarios, the white cat's instincts—all pieces of a larger puzzle pointing to the sealed third building. Tonight, he would meet the boy who had played "Who Speaks First" with a monster, and perhaps glimpse the door his parents had warned about. The park's sunlight felt distant now; midnight was coming, and with it, the Third Sick Hall's shadow.