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Chapter 2: Lin Song
It was a long corridor, guarded by armed police at its entrance. Lin Song had been given a private room.
Few hospitals were still operational these days. Only psychiatric facilities had been ordered to resume operations—and even those were now overcrowded, with temporary wards being hastily constructed several kilometers away.
This hospital, however, housed few ordinary patients. Instead, it functioned more as a makeshift, gentler holding station—less cold and institutional than a prison or detention center.
“Ah, Mr. Li, good morning.”
The creature in the room greeted Li Xingyuan warmly. “You’re looking well.”
A normal response like “You too” stuck in his throat, impossible to utter.
There was a reason Lin Song was locked up here.
He didn’t look good at all.
Lin Song’s hair had fallen out completely, leaving his pale scalp crisscrossed with swollen, purplish veins. There wasn’t a trace of hair left on his body anymore—not even enough to identify him as human. At most, one could say he had once been human.
His body retained a roughly humanoid shape, though his flesh wasn’t emaciated but rather bloated in places. Beneath his pallid, bluish skin, every vein stood out starkly. The stubborn bruises that had refused to heal before were gone now. His bodily functions were recovering—but not toward humanity.
Lin Song had grown taller. Even in the dim light, his eyes emitted a faint, ghostly glow—a feature known as the tapetum lucidum, common in mammals but absent in humans.
“Hmm.” Li Xingyuan grunted. “Don’t call me Mr. Li anymore. I’ve quit my job.”
“There aren’t many functioning organizations left these days,” Lin Song said, scratching his head. His sharp nails left visible marks across his skin and protruding veins. “Did you take Old Liu’s advice and join the military?”
Old Liu had returned to the army, burdened with reports to write. Even within the current ranks, there were few who possessed his extensive experience combating anomalies. The military was on the brink of reform, struggling to adapt to a world in flux. Veterans like Old Liu were invaluable.
Old Liu had also extended an invitation to Li Xingyuan, who, in some sense, qualified as a specialist with unique skills.
“Ha! I’m not cut out for that kind of place,” Li Xingyuan shook his head. “I plan to go solo—start something of my own. I haven’t figured it out yet, maybe something like an anomaly investigation office.”
Without Old Liu, Li Xingyuan couldn’t shake the feeling that someone, somewhere, might ambush him at any moment—a strange sort of PTSD, perhaps?
But regardless, without Old Liu, Li Xingyuan was determined to keep fighting these aberrations until death—and if he became a ghost afterward, he’d continue fighting then too.
“That sounds great,” Lin Song grinned, his mouth stretching unnaturally wide toward his ears. “When I get out, I’ll come work with you.”
Get out.
Li Xingyuan found it hard to imagine Lin Song ever leaving this place. He forced a weak smile instead.
He wasn’t sure whether their current situation was better or worse than the worst-case scenario he’d envisioned when he first turned the key.
“I heard your family visited you yesterday?”
“They didn’t really visit,” Lin Song shrugged, pointing to his glowing eyes. “They stayed far away and called me on the phone. It’s for the best. Better they don’t see me like this.”
Li Xingyuan didn’t know how to respond. Though he knew it wasn’t his fault, guilt gnawed at him nonetheless.
“Mr. Li, didn’t you say you wanted to get into the Jiangcheng Research Institute? Did you manage to get in?” Lin Song sensed something and changed the subject.
“No. It’s under full military control now,” Li Xingyuan replied bluntly. “No special reason will get you in with just a journalist ID. Without someone from Jiangcheng University vouching for me, I can’t even step foot inside. If Chen Yancheng were still around, he’d definitely pull some strings for me—but alas, he’s off supporting ‘the future.’”
If Chen Yancheng hadn’t gone to support “the future,” this task wouldn’t have fallen to Li Xingyuan. After all the effort, all the suffering endured to return to Jiangcheng, he’d ultimately failed to achieve his original goal—a crushing blow.
Still, now that the institute was under military jurisdiction, perhaps Chen Yancheng’s research was finally receiving the attention it deserved. In the hands of the state, it might hold more value than in the hands of individuals—but despite this reasoning, Li Xingyuan couldn’t help feeling uneasy.
Lin Song leaned his arm against the window frame, turning to Li Xingyuan. “Mr. Li, do you really want to get in there?”
Li Xingyuan raised his gaze to meet Lin Song’s.
“Let me make one thing clear—I can’t guarantee anything. The person I know doesn’t have deep ties with Jiangcheng University. Have you heard of the Luo Jin Mountain Observatory?”
“I went there on a school trip as a kid,” Li Xingyuan shrugged. “It’s a radio telescope, though nowhere near as famous as the one in the southwest.”
“Distant water won’t quench immediate thirst, Mr. Li. Besides, you’re not borrowing a telescope,” Lin Song said. “The director of the Luo Jin Mountain Observatory is my uncle. He collaborates with people at Jiangcheng University.”
Li Xingyuan blinked in surprise.
“You can ask him for help. See if he can get you into the Jiangcheng Research Institute. Even if he can’t directly, he can surely pull some strings through his connections. Just tell him you’re my friend—he’ll help you.”
Li Xingyuan twitched his lips, wanting to say “thank you” but feeling it insufficient, and considering “sorry” unnecessary. In the end, he settled for a firm nod.
“Mr. Li… thank you.”
Huh?
Li Xingyuan looked up, meeting Lin Song’s faintly yellowed eyes.
“Thank you for saving me, for bringing me home—even now, I feel the same way.”
Li Xingyuan adjusted his glasses silently, averting his gaze. “Don’t talk nonsense.”
I’ll find a way to save you, he thought. To make you normal again. But the promise felt hollow even to himself, so he kept it unspoken.
“Bring a few extra cans of formula for my family,” Lin Song said. “The ration coupons my wife and mom get aren’t enough. Formula, baby supplies—you know, my kid’s growing fast.”
Li Xingyuan nodded solemnly.
“You have my word.”
Lin Song smiled, though the expression remained unsettling.
“Thank you,” Li Xingyuan said, rising from the chair outside the door. “Goodbye.”
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