Chapter Seventy-Seven: Discovery
When Fang Simin returned home, night had already fallen. Her husband, engrossed in a television drama, barely glanced in her direction as he called out, “You’re back. So late again.”
She replied softly, went to wash her hands, changed her clothes, and finally sank down beside him, exhaustion evident in her every movement. She leaned against his shoulder, her body heavy with fatigue.
“Still not letting up, those people?” her husband asked, turning naturally to press her shoulders.
“Yes. Old Li’s already arranged for two more security guards to keep everyone out, but there’s always someone who slips in… Even calling the police doesn’t help. Some have even come straight to us, wanting to adopt the baby. Thankfully, at least no one is pretending to be the child’s parents anymore.” Fang Simin exhaled heavily, twisting her sore neck. “Massage here for me. Ah—”
Her husband flexed his fingers. “You’re off tomorrow. Don’t think about it anymore. I’ve told our daughter not to bring the little one over tomorrow. Get some proper rest. Let them take care of the child themselves.”
Fang Simin managed a smile, then sighed. “A child with a mother is precious indeed. The baby doesn’t want for food or drink now, staying in our ward and with so many kind people bringing things, but in the future…”
“That child is lucky. Didn’t you say his congenital ailments healed on their own? Heaven must be watching over him.”
Fang Simin began to laugh, but then winced. “Easy—ouch! Not so hard.”
“I’m barely pressing,” her husband protested.
She kneaded her own shoulder and rolled her neck. “Alright, that’s enough. I’ll pick up some patches at the clinic tomorrow.”
“Is it very painful?” he asked, concerned.
“Not exactly…” She moved her neck again, her expression hesitant. “It just hits me all of a sudden… Tsk… I’ll get an early night. Tomorrow I’ll have Old Liu take a look.”
“If it gets worse, get an X-ray.”
“There’s no bone injury, what’s the point?” she dismissed, pressing her sore spot as she headed for the bedroom.
She lay down early, but slept fitfully through the night. Sharp pangs inside her body would jolt her awake again and again, and so she endured the hours in restless, broken slumber.
At first light, Fang Simin simply got up. Not waking her husband, she crept quietly from the house and went straight to the hospital, heading for the Tuina Department to find Director Liu.
The hospital was far from quiet for an early Saturday morning.
Fang Simin sat in the corridor with a cluster of patients, waiting for Director Liu to arrive precisely on time.
“Old Liu,” she called as she stood.
“Old Fang,” the middle-aged man in a white coat arched his brows, “Not feeling well again?”
“That’s right. Please add me to your list—I’ll come back later,” she replied, clearly familiar.
“Alright.” Director Liu opened his office, grabbed a piece of paper, jotted down an appointment slip, and pulled a stamp from his pocket. As he worked, he asked, “You look worn out lately. I heard Old Li added more security over there. Still chaotic?”
“Yes…” Fang Simin started to sigh, but was cut short by a sudden stab of pain that made her suck in her breath, hand flying reflexively to her waist.
Director Liu looked up, surprised. “Injured your back? Not your shoulder this time?”
Fang Simin’s face was pale. “Maybe I slept badly last night—my body’s stiff, it aches everywhere.”
“Come back later, I’ll give you a good massage and prescribe some patches. You really need more rest,” he said, handing her the slip.
Fang Simin nodded. “Thank you. I’ll come back in a bit.”
With the slip in hand, she registered, then, seeing it was still early, made her way to her own department.
The neonatal intensive care unit was calm, free from the noisy crowds queuing for consultations. The security guard at the door, more relaxed now, told her that no one had caused trouble last night or this morning.
Though good news, Fang Simin could only muster a wan smile. The pain had abated, but a sleepless night had left her truly weary.
The young nurse on duty was startled by how pale she looked and asked carefully if something was wrong.
“Just didn’t sleep well,” Fang Simin answered lightly, her gaze settling on the infant, and at last her expression softened.
Reaching out, she hooked her finger around the baby’s tiny hand, gazing into those round black eyes. Unable to resist, she clicked her tongue softly, making playful sounds to amuse the adorable child.
The baby stared back, his little fingers curling tightly around hers.
Fang Simin smiled, but her smile froze abruptly. She fought back the pain that surged through her, though her fingers trembled despite herself.
The nurse asked gently, “Doctor Fang, do you want to lie down in the duty room for a bit?”
“Hmm…” Fang Simin withdrew her hand, “I’ll rest for a while. Wake me at ten-thirty, please.” Though she gave the nurse these instructions, she set an alarm on her phone herself.
By ten-thirty, Director Liu’s patients should mostly be finished. If not for the intensity and unpredictability of her pain, she’d have just asked a junior doctor for some patches and gone home already.
Fang Simin, feeling drained, rubbed her temples and headed for the nurses’ break room.
She never noticed that in the corridor, she brushed past Cheng Yao.
Leaning against the wall, Cheng Yao’s gaze followed her as she shuffled slowly down the hall. In his eyes, her retreating figure was reflected, yet what appeared in his mind was not her familiar silhouette, but the strange outline of a human form.
His heart began to race, blood surging, pooling in his eyes and brain as if the rest of his body had been drained to feed his head. His limbs grew cold, as though he had plunged into an icy abyss.
He saw something strange on Fang Simin. He couldn’t say what those cockroach-like creatures were, but his instincts screamed that they belonged to the Monster Clinic—a kind of organism found only there. Something was parasitizing her. Why her? Was she a patient of the Monster Clinic? Impossible! In this entire hospital, only…
Cheng Yao whipped his head around, his gaze seeming to pierce through wall after wall, as if both the walls and his own body had turned transparent, allowing him to see the infant in the ward.
The baby was lying quietly in the crib, eyes closed, seemingly lost in a sweet dream, his expression calm and peaceful, with nothing unusual about him. Even Cheng Yao’s eyes could detect nothing out of the ordinary.
He turned back to look at Fang Simin at the end of the corridor.
It seemed what he’d seen before was just an illusion; her body showed no sign of anything strange.
But Cheng Yao’s heart would not settle.
After a moment’s hesitation, he strode after Fang Simin.
He had come to secretly check on the infant, hoping to test his newly discovered, peculiar abilities on the child. But now, all that was forgotten.
Cheng Yao followed Fang Simin into the nurses’ break room.
Inside, a simple bed stood ready. Fang Simin lay down fully clothed, brow furrowed, unable to relax.
Cheng Yao carefully scanned her body with his gaze. The cockroach-like thing had vanished. Or perhaps, from the start, it had been nothing but a hallucination?
He forced himself to watch patiently for half an hour.
By now, Fang Simin had drifted into a deep sleep, her face finally at peace.
Cheng Yao gave a self-mocking laugh, his body relaxing as he slumped against the wall.
He remembered Bai Xiao’s hopeful look that morning before he left home.
He glanced down at himself. He could see his own body, but he knew others could not. He had turned into a strange invisible man—even his clothes disappeared with him. It was some kind of extraordinary mimetic ability. Under its cover, he could have slipped away with the baby, unnoticed.
But what then?
After discovering and using this power, he found himself torn, far from as elated as Bai Xiao had been.
Bai Xiao wanted to adopt the baby. But with their identities, there was no way they’d pass a formal adoption review. They could only rely on the abilities granted by the Monster Clinic to take another path. Whether that was even feasible was another matter; adopting a child was not like buying a puppy or kitten—feeding and raising it would not be enough. All the challenges of raising a child could hardly be solved by cheating the system.
Even for this workaround, his current ability was far from practical.
Cheng Yao recalled his conversation with Tong Bin.
According to Tong Bin, he, the Kong couple, and the security guards all remembered nothing of what Zheng Yichao had done that day. Zheng Yichao must have meddled with their memories—without doubt using his ability from the Monster Clinic.
Brainwashing? Hypnosis?
Cheng Yao looked at himself.
Was he capable of such things?
He shuddered, for he could not help thinking of Zheng Yichao, who had become a monster in every sense.
A sudden groan snapped him back to the present.
He turned to see Fang Simin, who’d let out a muffled cry.
In that instant, she was drenched in sweat, her eyes blank with confusion. Clutching her chest as though in agony, her mouth opened, but no breath came or went.
Cheng Yao’s heart leapt; he rushed to her side—but then Fang Simin abruptly exhaled in a long breath, as if breaking free from a nightmare, her eyes regaining focus.
Cheng Yao stopped in his tracks.
Fang Simin wiped her brow and slowly sat up, her face ashen.
He frowned, his gaze dropping from her hand on her chest to her foot.
Suddenly her leg jerked, a grimace of pain twisting her features, but it passed in an instant. She soon relaxed again, gasping for breath.
She rubbed her foot, her expression lost and fearful.
A heaviness pressed on Cheng Yao’s heart.
What he saw this time was not the cockroach-like creature, but the tissue within Fang Simin’s body. He saw a blood vessel in her foot twist grotesquely.
As if an invisible hand had passed through skin and muscle to wrench the vessel.
This was not normal.
This was something that could only happen to patients of the Monster Clinic.
Fear tightened inside him. His gaze again pierced the walls, seeking the infant in the crib.
The baby slept on, peaceful and serene.
…
On the outskirts of Longcheng, two police officers made their way south along North First Road, turning left at the intersection and continuing on. They searched everywhere, appearing casual, but missing nothing.
As they passed shops along the street, they produced a photograph, entering each one to inquire, repeating the same questions over and over without losing patience.
The answers they received were all negative, and varied:
“...No. There was that thunderstorm that day, pouring rain—no one came.”
“...Really don’t know, never seen this person.”
“...Didn’t someone come ask about this two days ago? I’ve got so many customers a day, how could I remember?”
In this way, they covered the entire street without a single lead, but did not lose heart.
One officer glanced up at the surveillance camera on the corner, then back at the street they had just walked. “This is where the blind spot in the surveillance ends.”
His partner replied, “Let’s check across the street.”
They crossed and began the same process on the opposite side, going door to door.
After two rounds up and down the street, they returned to their starting point, still empty-handed.
One put away the photo and pointed to another direction. “Let’s check over there.”
Just as he was about to step forward, his partner suddenly held him back. “Do you smell something?”
The other looked puzzled. “Something foul? This is the border between city and countryside—strange smells everywhere.”
Yet the first man’s face was tense, eyes scanning the surroundings. Then, with a shiver, he jumped off the curb, crouching to peer at the storm drain beside the road.
The drain was blocked with waterlogged, decaying leaves, cigarette butts, and instant noodle bowls discarded by passersby.
“No way…” his partner’s face grew grim.
Without a word, the first took out his phone and turned on the flashlight.
His partner crouched beside him. “See anything?”
The beam fixed on a single spot.
Both men’s eyes were drawn not to the drain itself, but to the iron grating.
On the inner side of the bars, there was a patch of dried blood. If not for the fact that part of it was smeared along the side of the bars, it would have been nearly impossible to spot.
“This… must be rat blood, right?”
“We’ll know once it’s tested.”
They reported it at once. After a while, a patrol car arrived. A technician got out, carrying a kit, glanced at the spot they indicated, and shook his head, muttering, “This is probably a wild goose chase,” but nonetheless did his job.
The test results came back—
“It’s human blood. And it matches the DNA of the infant!”
Over the following days, the police unearthed even more shocking evidence from the sewers.
They found over a dozen twisted lumps of rat flesh, and a much larger hunk of meat from which they extracted scraps of clothing, broken bits of a cell phone, and a complete SIM card.