"Lunch will be served soon—just a little longer, okay?"
The gentle voice of the female caretaker, Ding Ye, carried warmth as she smiled at Lin Fan, trying to soothe the ravenous hunger that had overtaken him.
She knew all too well—the young man before her, and the old man across the table, were not to be judged by appearances.
Their files were infamous.
No one should be fooled by their harmless expressions.
Their ability to torment themselves had long surpassed the standard bounds of mental illness.
She had once found a name for it in an old psychology text:
"Socially Harmless, Self-Harming Latent Personality Disorder."
Soon, the delicious aroma of food filled the air.
"All of you have been very good today," Ding Ye announced sweetly. "So everyone gets a drumstick!"
Ah, the oldest trick in the book.
Pretending the chicken leg was a reward—when it was clearly always part of the meal.
Still, no one cared.
The sight and smell of warm, fragrant food caused Lin Fan to instinctively wipe the drool at the corner of his mouth.
Why was he drooling?
Because he was starving.
For the mentally ill, their appetite often shifted with their emotions.
But Lin Fan could no longer bear it.
He grabbed the drumstick and tore into it like a wolf, chewing even the bone to dust and swallowing it.
In mere seconds, he had cleaned his plate—not a single grain of rice left.
Across the table, Old Zhang gaped.
Lin Fan looked famished.
His heart ached.
How could his good friend be this hungry?
"Here, take mine," Old Zhang said, sliding his plate over. "You can't go hungry. It's not good for you."
"You're hungry too. You eat," Lin Fan said.
"I'm not hungry."
Old Zhang's stomach growled as he stared longingly at his untouched drumstick.
But Lin Fan was his best friend.
He would rather starve than see his friend suffer.
Caretaker Ding Ye was pleased.
All the patients were calm, quietly enjoying their meals.
But when her eyes landed on Lin Fan's spotlessly clean plate, she paused.
She crouched down to check under the table.
Not a grain of rice on the floor.
What the hell?
Where did all the food go?
"Very impressive," she smiled, choosing not to ask directly. She knew their minds worked differently. She had to be subtle.
"That was a very clean plate, Lin Fan. Well done."
"Still hungry," Lin Fan said, holding out his tray.
Ding Ye blinked. Then smiled again.
"I'll get you another. Stay right here and be good, okay?"
"Okay."
Lin Fan sat obediently, eyes drifting to the shiny stainless-steel tabletop.
It looked… oddly delicious.
He swallowed hard.
If he could…
He might even try taking a bite out of the table.
After all, the Qi Cultivation Technique he practiced absorbed energy from the environment, firing up every cell in the body.
When every cell was active, the body burned through energy like a furnace.
His hunger was now dozens of times stronger than a normal person's.
"Here we go, sweetheart—hot, delicious food!"
Ding Ye placed another meal before him, with an extra drumstick.
"Since you behaved so well, I gave you an extra piece!"
Lin Fan dove in again.
The more he ate, the hungrier he became.
He devoured everything like a black hole—insatiable and ever-hungry.
Crunch.
His plastic spoon shattered in his mouth.
He didn't care. He chewed and swallowed it, then shoved the rest of the spoon in whole.
Old Zhang gently patted his hand.
"Slow down, buddy. You'll choke."
"Mmm." Lin Fan nodded, slowing his pace slightly. But his tray was already empty again.
Ding Ye, who had been standing at his side, was stunned.
Eyes wide, jaw slack.
In all her years in the asylum, she had never seen anything like this.
"I'm still hungry," Lin Fan said sweetly, holding out his tray again.
"That's already your second serving…" Ding Ye murmured, dazed.
"Mm-hmm." Lin Fan nodded eagerly. His meaning was clear:
Still hungry. Want more. A lot more.
She opened her mouth to advise him not to overeat—that it might hurt his stomach.
But then remembered:
This wasn't a normal patient.
Normal logic didn't apply.
"Be good now. No more food, okay? Too much is bad for you."
She softened her tone, hoping he wouldn't snap.
Lin Fan said nothing.
He lowered his head, rubbing his stomach.
Still starving.
"…Okay."
A few minutes passed.
Lin Fan slowly stood up, pretending to stretch.
But his eyes darted everywhere, watching the caretakers closely.
These people were sneaky.
Old Zhang noticed.
What was Lin Fan doing?
It looked like… he was avoiding their line of sight?
As Lin Fan's best friend, Old Zhang felt it was his duty to help.
He picked up his chicken leg, gobbled it down, and then—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
He slammed his forehead into the metal table.
"Help! He's having an episode!" Ding Ye shouted.
Staff rushed to the scene.
Old Zhang peeked at Lin Fan.
Safe.
Mission accomplished.
"I want food," he muttered, pulling another tray toward him and munching contentedly.
Then he looked up, grinning:
"So delicious."
The staff exchanged baffled glances.
They had been trained to handle sudden outbursts.
But this…?
This didn't follow any protocol.
Meanwhile: the Kitchen.
The chefs were enjoying lunch.
They were top-tier professionals, hired at high salaries for their excellent skills.
Director Hao had said:
"Cuisine is a universal language."
Whether normal or insane, everyone had taste buds.
Regular folks might tolerate bad food once or twice.
But patients?
They'd flip the whole table.
So every dish had to meet a certain standard.
Suddenly—
Someone entered the kitchen.
They turned.
Patient attire.
"Shhh," Lin Fan whispered, holding a finger to his lips, his smile radiant.
"I'm very hungry. I'd like to eat more."
Tap. Tap.
The lunch ladies' hands trembled, ladles clinking against trays.
His smile sent chills down their spines.
Hungry?
Did… did he mean people?
Where were the caretakers?!
Director Hao had promised—they'd never be alone with patients!
Because patients could snap.
One minute they were talking…
The next minute—stab stab stab.
Terrifying.
Lin Fan's eyes gleamed as he spotted a table piled with food.
He stepped forward, reached out—
And began shoveling food into his mouth.
So much.
So good.
So hungry.
(End of Chapter)