Final Chapter: Monster Clinic
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Inside the small clinic, the lobby was brightly lit by incandescent lamps, illuminating the path in front of the door. Neon lights from the signboard above cast mottled red shadows within the white glow.
Boss Le pushed open the glass door with a scowl, striding in with indifferent steps and loudly calling out, “Doctor! Doctor!”
The doctor emerged from the corridor, his face mostly covered by a mask, but the deep blue eyes visible betrayed his impatience.
Boss Le leaned against the reception desk, raising his hand to gently place a box on the counter.
“Here! Uncle Cheng sent you a gift,” he muttered begrudgingly, clearly displeased with this errand.
The doctor glanced at the box labeled with the name of a scenic area.
Boss Le was about to leave after delivering the gift but heard clinking sounds behind him. Curious, he looked back and saw the doctor pulling out a wound treatment kit from under the counter.
The doctor nodded at him.
Boss Le turned on his heel, returned to the counter, rolled up his sleeve, revealing several claw marks bleeding from a cat scratch.
The doctor silently began treating Boss Le’s wounds without a word.
Boss Le seemed to hold back his complaints for a while but finally couldn’t contain himself. He blurted out, “I asked you to treat Uncle Cheng, and you said you could, but why poke at his chest like that? What were you thinking? Is that how you treat patients? A psychologist doesn’t do this! How can I recommend patients to you if you treat them like that? But I admit, your skill with external wounds is impressive. Can you handle internal medicine? Can you treat pregnant women? Just so you know, treating Uncle Cheng like that won’t do.”
Boss Le jabbered on without pause.
The doctor methodically cleaned and applied medicine to the wounds.
Suddenly, Boss Le gasped sharply, “Why does it hurt so much this time? Ow! Ouch! Stop!” He tried to pull his hand back but the doctor held his wrist firmly, refusing to let go until all the claw marks were thoroughly treated.
Once released, Boss Le clutched his now healed hand, wailing loudly.
“Did you do that on purpose?” he accused.
The doctor calmly packed up his tools.
Boss Le, still fuming, turned to leave but stopped at the door.
He pressed against the glass door and looked back at the doctor.
The doctor was already walking down the corridor; the small box on the counter had vanished.
Seeing the doctor disappear from sight, Boss Le called out, “Uncle Cheng says thank you!” Then, lowering his voice, “Though I don’t think you really helped much...”
He muttered as he left the clinic.
The doctor entered the TV room.
The television was on, showing Cheng Yao.
Dressed like a retired old man, carrying a moderately stylish travel bag and a large camera hanging from his neck, Cheng Yao paused on a bridge admiring the night view, snapping several photos.
On the bridge were young lovers leaning on each other, middle-aged couples strolling, and groups of tourists.
Cheng Yao’s photography attracted attention.
An older man, leaning on the railing with a fishing rod in hand, said, “You won’t get a good shot today. In a few days, when the moon is full, it will pass right over the Holiday Hotel roof. That’s when the photos will be beautiful.”
Cheng Yao put down his camera and smiled, saying, “Really? I just arrived here to travel. The internet said the scenery is great.”
“That’s right,” the old man nodded proudly. “On the full moon night, you better come early to grab a spot. The bridge will be packed with photographers—DSLRs, big lenses, tripods everywhere.” He clicked his tongue, “No fishing allowed then.”
Cheng Yao leaned on the railing and chatted with the old man.
The doctor sat on the sofa, opened the small box.
Inside was a red velvet lining, somewhat kitschy, but it complemented the bronze bell it cradled.
The bell was small and exquisite, engraved with abstract characters and adorned with motifs of birds and beasts, giving it a slightly antique feel.
The doctor held the bell, gently shaking it.
A clear, crisp sound echoed softly in the darkness.
Ten fingernails tapped out varied tones, harmonizing with the bell’s chime like an ancient song.
The doctor’s deep blue eyes glanced at the TV screen.
The television sound had gone silent, the screen showing Cheng Yao’s cheerful smile.
Two more people appeared beside Cheng Yao, one resembling him, all dressed as travelers. The three middle-aged men chatted with the fishing old man.
The camera suddenly panned upward, capturing a crescent moon in the night sky.
The moon’s silhouette was hazy, with faint clouds drifting by.
Bright letters floated up from the bottom of the screen.
The characters “Half a Lifetime” appeared, elegant and lively, as if penned by a woman’s hand.
At the lower right corner, the word “End” was inscribed.
Night swallowed them whole; the screen turned black.
The doctor slipped the bell into his white coat pocket, stood up before the TV, and with a flick of his hand, caught a hard drive falling into his palm. In his other hand appeared a file folder.
The doctor carried these two items into the depths of darkness.
A doorway appeared out of nowhere.
Large stones blocked the entrance, and approaching them revealed many carvings resembling prehistoric murals—depictions of people and strange creatures.
The doctor circumvented the stones and pressed on.
Knotted ropes, tortoise shells, animal bones, papyrus, bamboo slips, silk scrolls...
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The doctor seemed like a glowing entity, lighting the way as he passed. Shelves of books, file cabinets, storage boxes appeared one by one, lined with film reels, vinyl records, tapes, and videotapes—endless rows stretching beyond sight.
He stopped at the last row of filing cabinets, spun on his heel, and continued down the aisle.
At the end, new filing cabinets extended into the darkness.
He placed the file and hard drive on a shelf.
Hands in pockets, he stared at the name “Cheng Yao” on the file.
After a long moment, he withdrew the bell, rubbed it twice, then flicked his finger lightly toward the way he came.
The bell flew through countless cabinets, gliding into the darkness, drifting as if aimlessly wandering through the cosmos.
After an unknown length of flight, faint flickering light appeared in the absolute darkness.
The bell struck a pillar, ringing out a prolonged echo.
Beneath the light stood not just one iron pillar but a row of towering columns extending sideways until meeting two stone walls, forming a cage.
Outside the cage was a narrow corridor with equally tall walls.
Flickering candle flames on the stone walls were the only source of light.
Outside the cell, wind howled and thunder rumbled in a rhythmic alternation, endlessly repeating as if eternal.
The bell’s ringing seemed to disturb a prisoner in the adjacent cell.
A massive octopus tentacle appeared, slapping the iron pillar forcefully before sliding down slowly.
The rhythmic wind and thunder paused briefly. From the other side of the cell, the ground trembled as if a giant had turned over, then the wind and thunder resumed, like a disturbed giant returning to sleep.
The bell’s echo faded.
The tentacle retreated slowly, leaving thick slime trails on the pillar and floor.
Once dried, the slime revealed a tiny human handprint at the base of the huge iron pillar, incongruous with the place.
The handprint and the bell were nailed to opposite ends of the pillar—one inside the cell, one outside—facing each other across the divide.
...
Kong Yajie dragged herself wearily to the elevator.
She pressed the button and leaned against the wall, waiting.
Her gaze fell on the stairwell beside her.
The dark stairwell looked like the gaping mouth of a monster ready to swallow her whole.
Kong recalled a class reunion a year ago—the hotel stairwell...
Ding dong—
The elevator arrived at the first floor and opened its doors.
The movement triggered the sensor light inside the stairwell.
Kong saw the floor number “1” marked on the wall.
She withdrew her gaze and stepped into the elevator, her hand reaching out to press a button but pulled back suddenly due to a sudden abdominal pain.
Clutching her belly with one hand and covering her mouth with the other, she suppressed the urge to vomit.
The elevator doors closed automatically.
Kong panicked briefly, instinctively lunging for the elevator buttons, but before pressing any, the elevator jolted, forcing her to steady herself against the wall.
The elevator ascended, still shaking.
Fear gripped her; she thought of news reports about elevator accidents and the emergency-lit stairwells in hotels.
She stared blankly as the display counted up: from “2” to “3,” then “4”...
Her mind went blank, fixating on the numbers until reaching “8,” then “9.”
The elevator halted, shaking violently.
Ding dong—
The doors opened.
Kong bolted out, colliding with someone at the threshold.
The woman cried out in pain and glared angrily but didn’t pursue it, entering the elevator directly.
The doors closed again.
Kong turned to look.
Through the gap in the elevator doors, she saw the woman’s face.
That woman...
No, that woman was dead—dead at Zheng Yichao’s home.
Kong tried to get a better look, but the doors shut.
She froze.
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She wiped the sweat from her forehead.
She must have been mistaken... maybe just someone who looked similar... the woman’s appearance and style were very common.
Her stomach churned again.
Leaning against the wall, she dry-heaved several times, looking pale and unwell, but soon forced herself to calm down.
This was normal.
Early pregnancy brought all sorts of discomfort—it was normal.
She told herself this repeatedly but soon began struggling to breathe.
She remembered the allergy diagnosis from over half a year ago.
Pregnancy seemed to have worsened her allergies, adding gastrointestinal symptoms.
Her hand pressed the elevator button.
She wanted to get home quickly, lie down, and hopefully feel better.
The elevator stopped on the first floor, paused, then the third, paused again.
Kong anxiously waited, her weight pressing heavily against the wall.
She thought of Gao Yan, feeling a bit hurt and wanting to cry.
Why did Gao Yan have to be on a business trip now? She shouldn’t have pretended to be fine.
Actually, she had been fine, just mild morning sickness. But in the past two days, the discomfort suddenly worsened. Each time she felt ill, it caught her off guard—one moment energetic, the next feeling like she might die, barely able to stand.
She thought of her parents.
She wanted to call them but felt embarrassed since her mother had just visited yesterday, cooking her a meal. She didn’t want to trouble them again so soon.
Since learning of her pregnancy, her parents had offered to find doctors, worried that her allergy diagnosed last year might worsen. But neither allergies nor pregnancy symptoms had any definitive cure. The hospital she was registered at was the best obstetrics and gynecology hospital in the city, and the doctors she had seen for allergies were authorities. If even they couldn’t help, where else could she turn?
Maybe she should move back home temporarily.
Back home, with her parents’ care and familiar surroundings, her allergies would improve, and pregnancy symptoms might lessen.
But commuting would become troublesome.
Lost in thought, she noticed the elevator rising past the ninth floor, the tenth, and continuing upward.
She straightened up.
Better to take the stairs down—just one floor. Waiting for the elevator to come down might take forever.
She grew impatient.
Her eyes scanned and landed on the stairwell.
The stairwell was dark and unlit, the entrance like a monster’s mouth.
Kong immediately looked away.
She never wanted to walk such a stairwell again in her life.
As she thought this, a bright light caught her peripheral vision.
Surprised, she turned back.
The stairwell door was gone, replaced by two glass doors. Bright light shone through.
Her gaze rose to the sign above the doors.
A neon sign hung where the emergency exit indicator once was, bearing four large characters: “Monster Clinic.”
Through the glass doors, she saw the bright, clean lobby of a private hospital. An antique bell, incongruous with the modern clinic, hung on the glass.
Kong was stunned.
Clack, clack, clack...
Footsteps echoed inside the clinic.
A man in a white coat appeared at the door, wearing a mask, his only visible features a pair of beautiful deep blue eyes.
His eyes showed no smile, and he made no greeting gesture—just hands in pockets, staring through the glass door at Kong.
Kong felt bewitched. Though terrified by the eerie scene, goosebumps rising, she involuntarily took a step forward.
Just one step.
Ding dong—
The elevator doors opened, another beam of light falling on her.
Clatter, clatter...
The elevator trembled slightly, doors closing, the display counting down from “9” to “8,” then “7”...
Ding ling—
On the ninth floor, a clear, melodious bell rang.
Echoing between two spaces.
[The End]