Chapter 185: The Most Terrifying Person

2022-05-20

After a moment, Guan Zengbin wiped away his tears and said, “It feels a bit better to finally talk about it, especially with the two people I trust most. But enough about that—for now there’s nothing we can do. Wu Meng, what brings you here anyway?”

My mind finally let go of the issue. Whether I’d ever see Zhao Mingkun again was already uncertain, let alone catching him myself. If I ever get another shot, I’ll leave that for the future. Right now, I need to find any trace of him or more people are bound to die.

A thought formed in my mind, so I spoke up. “If we had to find a single drop of water in the ocean, how would we do it?”

Gu Chen groaned, “Don’t be mysterious—just say it.”

I raised my eyebrows. “The best way to find a single drop of water is to use all the other drops to help. The world that makes no sense to us might make perfect sense to a madman. Maybe these symbols the killer left behind don’t speak to normal people, but someone else might understand them. And maybe the one we’re after is upstairs right now.”

Getting any real clues from these patients wasn’t going to be easy. First, we’d have to determine if they understood the killer’s strange sentences. Next, whether they’d even work with us—neither one was guaranteed.

So we could only try room by room, searching for anyone who might offer some help. But after a few tries, it got pretty awkward. Every time Guan Zengbin spoke through the door in Chinese and English, the patients screamed and pounded the door. The ones tied to their beds thrashed even harder.

It made me start questioning the whole idea. Maybe normal people share a similar worldview, while those here are locked in their own realities. After meeting them one by one, my earlier plan started to feel laughable.

We moved upstairs, our shoes echoing sharp “clack clack” sounds in the silent hallway. Guan Zengbin sighed. “It looks like we’re going home empty-handed. Maybe those strange words aren’t clues at all—maybe they’re just meant to throw us off.”

We headed up to the second floor, still searching. As we passed one room, I noticed the woman inside was lying in bed, still as a stone—more corpse than living person. Gu Chen knocked at the iron gate and peeked through the window, but she didn’t budge.

“That’s the devil’s language,” one patient suddenly screamed in English as Guan Zengbin recited the phrases, dropping to his knees and desperately making the sign of the cross, muttering over and over.

We glanced at each other. This could finally be a break.

“What does that mean!” I pressed my face against the door to see the man crouched on the floor.

His face was streaked with tears, twisted in pain. He croaked, “Come here. I’ll tell you.”

His expression darkened and I almost pressed my whole face through the bars trying to catch every word, but just then, the patient shot up and reached out with surprising force. The gaps between the bars were so tight, a hand could barely fit.

Yet somehow, his arm twisted painfully through the narrow gap—his wrist had to be broken. He grabbed my collar and refused to let go.

That’s when the alarm started blaring, followed by the sound of pounding footsteps. Somebody was coming.

The man gave me a look of pure sadness and fear, then let go and backed away into the farthest corner, curling up like a scared kid.

I straightened my clothes as the head nurse stormed over with a group of security guards. She relaxed when she saw I was unharmed. “I told you to be careful, but you never listen.”

I ignored her, focus still on the patient. “What did you mean just now? Explain!”

But he refused to say another word, no matter how we tried.

The head nurse huffed, “Why even bother arguing with a mental patient? You really think anything they say is reliable? I told you this wasn’t going to work. Just get back to your investigation before you end up in a cell yourself. Nothing here is real, everything’s just shadows.”

She looked at the man inside with a kind of pity, then turned that same sympathy on me. “It’s the same world for all of us, but everyone sees it in their own way. Maybe the reality we see is the fake one, and theirs is real.”

I wasn’t in the mood for philosophy—there would never be an answer to questions like this.

“But we haven’t seen everyone yet,” I pointed out.

“Who?” She frowned, clearly annoyed.

I pointed upward. “The one upstairs. That old man with all the knowledge—we haven’t met him.”

She waved her hand. “Absolutely not. No one is allowed in there. I’ve told you, that man is terrifying—it’s like he can look straight into your heart. With him, it’s as if you’re completely exposed. He’ll drag out your deepest secrets.”

Her words sounded so sinister, I had to ask, “Are you saying you’ve tried it yourself?”

She shook her head. “No, I never have—and I never will. Why do you think he’s locked up?”

I replied, “Maybe you can’t stop me. I have this feeling he’s the key—we could get real clues from him.”

After several back-and-forth arguments, with my official papers in hand, the head nurse could only warn me but not stop me. I wanted to see for myself just what made this old man so different.

She finally gave in, but warned, “No matter what he says, don’t believe a word. Remember, he’s a patient, not a scholar. There’s a reason he’s in here.”

She tapped on the door and a deep voice called from within, “Come in.”

She gave my shoulder a reassuring pat, then nodded for me to go ahead.

I stepped in and shut the door. The old man swapped out his glasses and looked at me.

“Why are you so nervous?” He adjusted his glasses and asked, “Am I really that scary? You must’ve heard stories about me. Honestly, I’ve always wondered why I was sent here. Why not take a seat and have a chat? Go on, have a seat.”

I eyed the old man, dragged a chair over and sat down. “I’m not nervous,” I said.

The old man shook his head. “No, you are. People are strange creatures—they rarely understand their own emotions. It’s easy to lie to yourself, but your body gives you away. The way you shut the door and hunch your shoulders, that slight tremble in your fingers—it all tells me you’re tense.”

“Psychology?” I met his gaze, not moving a muscle. “You’re trying to throw me off balance the second I walk in. Doesn’t matter how I answer—you’ve already grabbed the upper hand. Is that your strategy?”

His face was unreadable. “Interesting—you know a thing or two about psychology yourself?”

I shook my head. “This is just the basics—anyone with a little practice can use them. But I’m not here to listen to you flex your psychological skills. You’ve got shelves of books on human behavior. I’m here for your help with a case.”

“Are you scared?” The old man locked eyes with me. Behind his lenses, his gaze was so intense it felt like he could see straight through into my soul, laying bare every secret I tried to hide. “Let’s see… I see anxiety in your eyes. Fear, too. Even a bit of weakness and regret.”

I kept staring right back.

He rested his chin in his palms. “You’ve always been afraid of something. But what exactly? Let me guess.”

I shrugged.

He smiled. “I know what it is. You’re afraid of being alone. The more you pretend not to care, the deeper your anxiety goes. Even sitting here, you acted calm, but your eyes darted around the room, sizing it up.”

The old man glanced around at his books and nodded. “Remember, the harder you try to hide something, the more it slips out. The more you lack, the more you try to fake it—always scared people will notice what you don’t have.”

He grinned. “So let me guess—why are you so lonely? Why can’t you trust anyone, no matter what they say? I’d wager this started when you were a child. You were abandoned, weren’t you? An orphan?”

I still didn’t answer.

The old man winked at me. “That’s right. What you fear most is betrayal—you’re terrified of getting too close to someone. You’d rather tackle everything by yourself, even die alone, right? Ever wonder why that is?”

“Haven’t you ever tried looking for the reason inside yourself?”