Li Hu was shattered—his soul battered by trauma. Doctors and nurses rushed in but dared not speak much. All they could do was offer quiet consolation.
"Think of your child,"
"Think of your family."
"You are their pillar of strength—how can you afford to collapse now?"
Lin Fan raised his hand gently, signaling the medical staff to hold their tongues. He tenderly stroked Li Hu's head. He understood the man's fragile state; any further shock would push him past the threshold—into the abyss of madness.
That threshold was strange. And steep.
Some spend a lifetime unable to reach it.
Others cross it in a sudden flash of epiphany—one step forward, one look back—and the world has already changed beyond recognition. The past becomes a foreign country. Return, impossible.
Li Hu clung to Lin Fan's leg, sobbing for a long time. When his tears dried, so too did his spirit.
"Drink some milk. Eat a little sausage. Then rest," Lin Fan said gently. The man had wept with the anguish of someone broken. At Qingshan Psychiatric Hospital, Lin Fan had consoled many like this—offering a drink, a bite of food. Small gestures that meant the world to shattered souls.
The doctors stood silently.
From what they had gleaned of Li Hu's story, their hearts grew heavy. The storms of life hadn't broken this man—but some wounds go deeper than time or trials. Even iron-willed men can shatter.
"He needs rest. Thank you all," Lin Fan said.
The nurse helped Li Hu away, stealing a few glances at Lin Fan—the boy in a school uniform. There was something about him: that gentle smile, those clear eyes. And yet… something felt off. Indescribably strange.
Not wrong.
Just… unnerving.
Then suddenly—
One of the nurses caught a glimpse of Lin Fan's arm and gasped, "Doctor! Look at his arm!"
The others turned, and as they saw it, the doctor's face turned pale. He rushed forward, holding the limb with great care.
"This… this is—"
"Broken," Lin Fan replied calmly.
The doctor stared at the torn skin, where blood bubbled out and pale bone gleamed beneath. A grotesque sight.
"Quick! Prep the OR!" a nurse shouted, bolting out the door.
"No need to rush, nurse," Lin Fan said serenely. "Take your time."
"Come with us," said the doctor, trying to reassure him. "You'll be alright. It's not too serious."
The injury was ghastly. Most would faint at the sight—but the boy was unnervingly composed. Perhaps the pain had numbed his nerves. But once it hit—such agony could shatter the strongest of minds.
Back in the ward—
His classmates stood, mouths agape, frozen in disbelief.
"Is that still the Chen Yang we knew?" one of them whispered.
"He's… changed. Completely."
Indeed.
Once, Chen Yang was the school's infamous pretty boy—soft-spoken, effeminate. But now… he seemed like someone entirely new. Unrecognizable.
In the operating room—
"Doctor," Lin Fan said, lying calmly on the table, eyes fixed on the surgical lamp above. "Please don't use anesthesia."
The doctor was stunned. "What? That's impossible. Without anesthesia, the pain alone could kill you."
"You don't understand," Lin Fan replied. "I possess an iron will. Pain is my discipline. I've long grown used to it."
The doctor opened his mouth to protest, but the nurse beside him tugged his sleeve—an unspoken message. If he didn't want anesthesia, fine. They could simply lie. Administer it in secret.
The anesthesiologist was already prepared.
"What's that?" Lin Fan asked.
"It's a restorative serum. Good for your injury. Don't worry, it's definitely not anesthesia," the anesthesiologist lied with a gentle smile. He quickly found the sweet spot—just below the neck—and injected it with practiced ease.
Lin Fan smiled, satisfied. "As long as it's not anesthesia… I'm broke."
The doctors exchanged confused glances. Money? That hadn't even occurred to them.
Scissors clicked. Flesh parted.
Lin Fan's expression remained unchanged. No flinch. No tremble.
He had long grown accustomed to this place.
Qingshan Psychiatric Hospital—
It was his home.
The hospital—his second.
He drifted off.
And as the surgery continued, soft snores escaped his lips. Asleep, on the operating table—an occurrence rare and surreal.
"Do you guys think… there's something off about him?" a nurse whispered.
"Definitely. He's not like any patient I've ever met. And did you hear how he saved that man?"
"How?"
"You won't believe it," she whispered. "His classmate said he opened a window, reached out, and caught a man mid-fall—from the twenty-fifth floor."
"That's impossible…"
"But true. His arm broke—that's the least of it. The real miracle is that he didn't get dragged down with him."
"And after the break… he didn't even scream. Just stood there. Silent."
The surgical staff drew in sharp breaths.
Inhuman. Monstrous. Unfathomable.
Time passed. The operation ended.
A nurse carefully wrapped Lin Fan's arm in plaster, eyes filled with quiet curiosity. She couldn't help but ask, "Does it hurt?"
"Yes," Lin Fan answered, still smiling.
"You can cry out, you know. It's okay to scream," she offered.
He looked at her with those clear eyes and replied, "Would it hurt less if I screamed?"
The nurse froze. After a moment's pause, she murmured, "…No."
"Then why scream?" Lin Fan said quietly. "Don't you think so, nurse?"
"…Yes."
He continued smiling, his gaze unwavering.
In any other setting, it might have been heartwarming—a silent exchange between patient and caregiver.
But slowly…
The nurse began to lower her head. That smiling gaze—it unsettled her. It felt… off.
Like a smile that didn't belong.
Too pure. Too empty.
"Could you not look at me like that?" she asked softly. "It's making me uncomfortable."
"Of course," Lin Fan said politely.
Yet the smile remained.
And so did the stare.
He believed it was the purest gesture of kindness—a habit from Qingshan.
Everyone there smiled this way.
Eyes clear. Faces soft.
Smiling at each other… endlessly.
A ritual of silent empathy.
Even if it lasted a day or a night, it never felt tiring.
Because within, there was warmth.
They called it… connection.
(End of Chapter)