In a hospital, when one psychiatric patient tells another that the doctor is a ghost, does that actually prove they suffer from a mental illness?
In the eyes of any normal person, the one claiming the doctor is a ghost would certainly be considered the problem. But Chen Ge didn't think so. Subconsciously, he felt that patient's words were worth serious consideration — meaning that deep down, he too suspected something was off about Doctor Gao.
His head started throbbing again. Chen Ge clenched his teeth hard. He felt thoroughly lost. His way of thinking was clearly different from that of a normal person. Could he really be sick?
Admitting to having a mental illness was an extremely difficult thing for a stubborn person to do, because once you accepted that you were ill, it would completely overturn your entire worldview.
When your worldview and cognitive framework both shifted, you were no longer the person you had been.
He didn't dwell on it. Chen Ge cleared his mind, choosing not to actively reach for any old memories.
The pain gradually subsided. It had been less than twenty-four hours since he'd woken from his coma, yet Chen Ge had already figured out how to dodge the pain.
And this was while he'd lost most of his memories, relying entirely on instinct.
Sitting on the bench and having settled his condition, Chen Ge turned his head and glanced at Doctor Gao. He was surprised to find that Doctor Gao was watching him.
That sharp gaze bored straight into Chen Ge's eyes, as if it could pierce right through his skin and read the thoughts inside his skull. It made him deeply uncomfortable.
"There's a saying that circulates among psychiatrists," Doctor Gao said slowly. "Never overthink anything a patient says. We only need to trust scientific data, observe clear pathological changes, and prescribe the correct medication. That's our responsibility — both to the patient and to ourselves."
"That patient seemed as though he could really see ghosts? Doctor Gao, do you think ghosts actually exist in this world?" Chen Ge knew that Doctor Gao had noticed something. He'd only tossed the question out casually to change the subject. But what he hadn't expected was that the moment he asked whether ghosts truly existed, a searing pain erupted from deep inside his skull! It was as though someone had once asked him this very same question!
The sudden, vicious pain made Chen Ge clutch his head. He collapsed onto the ground, rolling around in agony.
Doctor Gao quickly grabbed Chen Ge's hand. "Breathe using the method I taught you!"
Three or four minutes later, Chen Ge finally calmed down. Doctor Gao slipped the pill bottle back into his pocket — he had originally intended to feed Chen Ge two more tablets.
"Did you just recall some unpleasant memory?"
"Mm." Chen Ge nodded. He wouldn't deliberately underestimate anyone's intelligence, so he didn't outright deny it. "I think I've seen ghosts before. All kinds of ghosts."
"That's perfectly normal. The identity you've imagined for yourself is the owner of a haunted house, and your employees are all manner of ghosts." Doctor Gao pointed at the garden fence. "The root of all these fantasies is that haunted house in Xinhai Amusement Park. You subconsciously projected yourself onto that actress. The haunted house was failing, employees were leaving in droves, so you fantasized about there being real ghosts in the world — all kinds of genuine specters to serve as actors and solve your staffing shortage."
"That's not possible..."
"Then why did the haunted house's employees leave?"
"Because there weren't enough visitors. They couldn't pay wages."
"If you used real ghosts as employees, would you need to pay them money that the living use?"
"I suppose not."
"That's the root of your fantasy." Doctor Gao helped Chen Ge back onto the bench. "In your imagination, you had everything. But in reality, nothing changed. You're still only able to hide behind a window, peeping at that actress, while she still faces the risk of the haunted house going under."
Doctor Gao sighed. "Do you know what worries me most right now?"
"What worries you?" Chen Ge was somewhat confused.
"I worry that before too long, that haunted house really will close down. And then you might never see that actress again."
Hearing Doctor Gao's words, Chen Ge's heart clenched painfully.
"That's reality. It never changes according to anyone's will. The wind blows, and the grass bends both ways. You think you're the wind, but we're all just the grass." Doctor Gao's voice was calm, tinged with a note of melancholy. "I don't want to puncture your beautiful fantasy either, but I know that if that haunted house shuts down, you may lose the last thread of hope you're clinging to. That could cause your condition to deteriorate suddenly."
Chen Ge said nothing. Doctor Gao understood the conflicted feelings Chen Ge was wrestling with. "What you need to do right now isn't to immerse yourself in a fantasy you've woven, but to bravely step outside and start a new life. Rather than waiting for the haunted house to collapse, your condition to worsen, and being unable to ever leave this hospital — it would be far better to cooperate with our treatment, recover as quickly as possible, and then leave this hospital to go find her."
Everything Doctor Gao said made perfect sense, and it was entirely from Chen Ge's perspective. It seemed like it was all for Chen Ge's own good.
"Was my past really nothing more than a fantasy?" The moment Chen Ge thought about the haunted house closing down, an indescribable pain surged inside him. It was different from physical pain — impossible to describe, yet it cut straight to his soul.
"You should have realized it long ago. Your fantasy is full of imagery drawn from reality. And have you noticed something? Your story contains several psychologists and psychiatrists. They pervade your entire narrative, positioned at every turning point. Do you really think that's a coincidence?"
"Isn't it?" Chen Ge's eyes were hazy with confusion. His fragmented memories did indeed contain several doctors. And each one seemed to have their own story — all of them enormously important figures.
The one who had killed him as a child was a doctor in a white coat. The association chairman was Doctor Gao. The friend his parents had entrusted with his care was Doctor Chen. And there seemed to be another... Doctor Fang?
His brain felt as though it had been stabbed by a needle. Chen Ge shuddered but forced himself to hold on.
"The turning points where those doctors appeared just happen to coincide with every time we intervened with your treatment. Your fantasy is merely an extension of reality. You'll come to realize it in time." Doctor Gao chatted with Chen Ge a while longer. Then something apparently came up in another ward. After feeding Chen Ge two pills, he hurried off, leaving Chen Ge alone in the hospital garden.
"I really want to visit that haunted house." After swallowing the pills, Chen Ge's thinking grew sluggish, and the pain faded considerably. Time seemed to slow down, and drowsiness gradually crept over him. "Compared to the terrifying life in that story, this kind of existence really is more comfortable."
As time passed, the outdoor temperature slowly climbed, and there were fewer doctors and patients around. No one was anywhere near Chen Ge.
Just then, a rustling sound came from within the flowerbed. Chen Ge slowly turned his head toward it.
The stems were pushed aside, and a cat's head poked out from the flowers.
The cat was entirely snow-white, its two eyes different colors. The moment it spotted Chen Ge, it came bounding over and leapt right onto his lap.
The leg in a cast was crushed under the white cat's weight, and Chen Ge grimaced. "What a big cat."
This cat was probably some unusual breed — twice the size of a normal house cat and impossibly heavy.
What mattered more was that the cat had absolutely no sense of self-awareness. With practiced ease, it tried to climb up onto Chen Ge's shoulder.
Chen Ge grabbed the white cat with both hands and set it on the chair beside him. "How is there a cat in the hospital? A stray from outside?"
Chen Ge and the cat stared at each other, his big eyes meeting its small ones. The cat's gaze was remarkably spirited, brimming with all sorts of different emotions.
"Did your owner abandon you?" Chen Ge said to the white cat. What he hadn't expected was that after he spoke those words, a flicker of confusion appeared in the cat's eyes.