After finishing dinner, Chen Ge lay on his bed, his expression blank, silently gazing at the amusement park outside the window.
Compared to when he had first woken from his coma, Chen Ge had grown even more subdued. Perhaps in the doctors' eyes, this version of him better fit the hospital's standards.
"Bang!"
The ward door was shoved open roughly. Two orderlies and Xu Wan walked in. "Chen Ge, time for your medication."
"Where's Doctor Gao? Doesn't he usually distribute the medicine?"
"He's busy with other things tonight. I'll be standing in for him for now." Xu Wan's voice was gentle, nothing unusual to be heard. After watching Chen Ge swallow three white pills, she spoke again. "The hospital is severely short on ward space. This is your new roommate — you can't scare another one away!"
The two orderlies hauled a pale-faced middle-aged man into the ward and placed him on Zuo Han's former bed.
"Get to know each other. Rest well, and whatever you do, don't wander around at night." With that, Xu Wan left along with the two orderlies, and the ward held only two patients.
Chen Ge studied his new roommate with curiosity. The man looked to be in his forties — not many wrinkles on his face, but his hair had gone completely white. He looked as though he had endured all manner of inhuman torment. His mental state was clearly in shambles, and his body trembled faintly and without cease.
"Hey, brother — what should I call you?" Chen Ge took the initiative to greet the man. He suspected that this white-haired middle-aged man in his forties was another "medicine" the hospital had prepared for him. If he was medicine, he must have appeared in Chen Ge's memories at some point, and might help Chen Ge remember something.
"Can you hear me?"
After calling out several times, the middle-aged man finally turned his head and glanced at Chen Ge. His eyes were filled with dense, palpable fear, and the moment he saw Chen Ge, he quickly looked down again.
"Do you know something?" This man's temperament was entirely different from Zuo Han's. He wouldn't say a single word — there was simply no way to communicate with him.
Chen Ge didn't know the man's name, nor what illness he suffered from. All he knew was that the man seemed terrified of him.
The night had grown deep, yet the hospital corridor was still filled with the sounds of footsteps and carts being wheeled along.
Around one in the morning, the door to Chen Ge's ward was knocked upon. The middle-aged man, sleeping on the bed closest to the door, sat upright immediately.
The door was knocked five times in rapid succession, with barely any pause between each strike.
"One more than last night? Does this knocking represent how many days I've been in the hospital?"
The corridor outside quickly fell silent. The middle-aged man mustered his courage, walked over to the door, and cracked it open just enough to peer outside.
"Hey! Is anyone out there?" Chen Ge spoke up suddenly, startling the man.
He gently closed the ward door, then shook his head at Chen Ge. "There's no one outside."
The middle-aged man's throat seemed to have been injured at some point — his voice sounded very odd, and the act of speaking itself appeared to cause him great pain.
"Brother, the fact that we're living together must be fate. What should I call you?" Chen Ge hadn't expected the man to actually speak to him, and he felt this was a good opportunity to bridge the gap between them.
"My surname is Fang."
"Brother Fang, what illness were you admitted for?" Chen Ge asked with some curiosity.