After she finished speaking, Le Yi didn’t spare a glance at Yu Renwan, nor did she concern herself with which mortuary slab Xiao Tian was hiding on. She picked up her long needle and walked straight out of the mortuary.
Jiang Yan nodded at Yu Renwan before following Le Yi back to the dissection room.
She couldn’t quite make sense of the situation.
Why would Le Yi trust Yu Renwan?
Wasn’t she worried Yu Renwan might be controlled as well?
That the nurses didn’t want to catch her was one thing, but whether they’d come after her other companions was another altogether.
Yu Renwan could easily search the basement, then turn in Le Yi’s friends to guarantee her own safety.
Perhaps Jiang Yan’s confusion was too plain on her face, or perhaps Le Yi was simply in a good mood. Sitting atop the dissection table, swinging her legs, Le Yi took the initiative to explain:
“These nurses are very strange.”
Jiang Yan looked up. “Strange how?”
Le Yi said, “Although I have no concrete evidence, judging by what happens during the nights, it’s as if they’re controlled by something. And the degree of control… at first, it seemed subjectively voluntary.”
Jiang Yan: “Subjectively voluntary?”
Le Yi nodded. “Yes.”
“I’ve observed them for months. I found that as long as they don’t betray the patients who seek their protection, as long as they don’t sell out their fellow nurses for their own survival, they seem difficult to control.”
Jiang Yan: “Why do you say that?”
Le Yi explained, “There was once a nurse who always helped us. Even though she forgot everything that happened every Sunday at midnight, after every broadcast, she’d help us hide.”
“She was clear-headed and mentally sound. Thanks to her, we survived the hardest first month—January of this year.”
“But suddenly, in February, she had some trouble at home and resigned. After that, I never met another nurse like her.”
“After February, we sometimes had new nurses offer to help, but after figuring out what ‘lab rat’ meant, they’d always try to sell us out. Every single time.”
“If we hid, they sold out whatever patients trusted them. If we hid with other regular patients, they’d sell out their own colleagues.”
“I noticed that as soon as they started betraying others, the next time the broadcast began, their minds and actions would grow dull. And with each time, it got worse.”
“Right now, those nurses outside—they’re the ones who, in past dawns, voluntarily handed others over as ‘lab rats.’ Over several cycles, as soon as the broadcast starts, they turn sluggish, searching for us like sleepwalkers, regaining their senses only with sunrise.”
“I’m guessing this time will be the same as before.”
Jiang Yan understood why Le Yi believed Yu Renwan wouldn’t be controlled.
—This was Yu Renwan’s first time participating as a nurse in this game. She hadn’t yet betrayed anyone, so she couldn’t be manipulated by that unknown force.
But just because she couldn’t be controlled didn’t mean she wouldn’t choose to harm others.
The nurses upstairs hadn’t been controlled in the beginning either, yet all chose to harm others, didn’t they?
Le Yi had no way of knowing Yu Renwan’s temperament. So why would she let her stay in the basement and believe Yu Renwan would actually obey?
Jiang Yan asked exactly what she was thinking: “So why do you trust that nurse?”
The girl swung her legs leisurely atop the dissection table, skillfully disassembling her long needle and then swiftly piecing it back together.
For a long moment, Jiang Yan thought Le Yi wouldn’t reply. Then Le Yi lifted her head.
She studied Jiang Yan, as if peering through flesh to observe her soul.
After a pause, she said meaningfully:
“Why do you think I brought you with me?”
Jiang Yan’s eyes narrowed abruptly.
“I can see the color of everyone’s soul,” Le Yi said. “Do you believe me?”
The room fell silent.
For a while, the live-stream audience was dumbfounded. Then, a string of [???] filled the comment section.
[???]
[Did I hear that right??]
[Top-tier psychic talent, Soul Sight??]
As the audience said.
Soul Sight was the highest form of sensory psychic ability—an even greater tier than Lin Xinjiu’s upgraded Yin-Yang Eyes.
Those with Soul Sight could see the core color of a person’s soul, discerning good from evil.
And a person’s soul color was constantly shifting, changing with every decision they made. Thus, one with Soul Sight could predict someone’s choices by reading the color changes of their soul.
Jiang Yan confirmed once more: “You can see the color of souls?”
Le Yi couldn’t be bothered to answer and turned her head away.
But Jiang Yan didn’t mind at all.
From observing Le Yi’s desires, she could tell Le Yi hadn’t lied.
So she truly did possess that ability.
With that, all of Jiang Yan’s confusion was explained.
A group of kids with an average age of just ten had survived here; without any supernatural help, it wouldn’t make sense. So it was Le Yi, using her gifted ability, who led her companions safely through countless dangers until now.
As Jiang Yan stayed silent, Le Yi gave a faint snort, lifted her feet higher, and lay back on the dissection table.
Jiang Yan lay down beside her.
Neither spoke.
After a long while, Jiang Yan said, “I believe you.”
Le Yi immediately retorted, “Who cares if you do?”
She turned her head so that all Jiang Yan could see was the back of her head.
[Feels like Le Yi really does have the ability. Judging by Jiang Yan’s reaction, she believes her, too.]
[Jiang Yan, Master of Psychology: Certified and guaranteed!]
[Do you guys think this is why Le Yi was diagnosed as mentally ill?]
[Seems likely. What psychic wouldn’t want a “delusion” like that, QAQ]
The clock’s hand ticked to “3”.
Yu Renwan wandered around the corridor, her footsteps dragging, growing duller and heavier—they sounded like someone barely able to stay awake.
Jiang Yan was truly tired now, too. She’d drawn most of the clear water from the dissection table, planning to rest for a while.
Just as she was on the verge of falling asleep, she heard Le Yi tossing and turning.
“All right,” Le Yi blurted suddenly.
“Almost no one believes what I say. But when I become ruler of the world, I’ll give you a small promotion.”
After announcing this, Le Yi waited expectantly for Jiang Yan’s gratitude.
But Jiang Yan said nothing.
Several minutes later, a slow, steady breath drifted over to her.
Relaxed and at ease—completely asleep, by the look of it.
“………”
Le Yi muttered to herself, “Because of your arrogance, you’ve missed the favor of the future ruler of the world.”
[.]
[She’s definitely not all there.]
[Truly pitiful.]
*
With Yu Renwan stationed on the basement floor, during the third search round, two groups of nurses who came down were sent right back upstairs by her.
Until dawn, no one else descended to the basement.
The other nurses checked the remaining floors, then started searching in the little courtyard garden.
But not a single patient was in the garden.
Most of the patients were in poor health—some even had cancer. They already resented being woken in the middle of the night by the broadcast; hardly anyone wanted to help the lab hunt “infected lab rats.” Most had gone back to their rooms early to lie down.
At that moment, the twins were perched high in a five-meter tree in the yard, observing the nurses from afar.
They had been here for half an hour.
“They look just like zombies,” Shen Xiaoxiao mouthed, rolling her shoulders to ease the stiffness.
She and her sister had tailed the nurses all night, assuming it would be easy to get caught. But to their surprise, though the nurses searched thoroughly, their reactions were dreadfully sluggish.
And not just that—their conversations were pointless, full of repetitive chatter. It was as if only one thought remained sharp in their minds: “Find the infected lab rats before dawn.”
“Lab rats…”
The round-faced nurse Wei Xian ducked into the bushes, searching the area for the umpteenth time.
“Lab rats, where are you?”
She muttered ceaselessly. After a third fruitless search, she began picking at the wet earth, compulsively digging in the mud. A male nurse wandered over, trampling directly on Wei Xian’s hand as if he didn’t see her.
“Crack—”
The sound of breaking bone.
But Wei Xian merely glanced up at him, and the male nurse didn’t apologize.
Both continued as if nothing happened—Wei Xian pawing at the grass, the male nurse pacing in circles.
Dawn broke on the horizon, and the sanatorium’s glass doors swung open.
The head nurse, Fang Miao, walked out.
She appeared much more lucid than the others—at least her movements seemed normal. She surveyed the scene, frowning. “The lab is pressing us. Did you find the lab rats yet?”
“They’re all infected. If they transmit the virus, can you bear the consequences?!”
No one questioned the logic of her words.
It wasn’t as if the nurses had released the lab rats, but not one argued. They simply continued wandering the garden with vacant eyes.
The sun rose steadily, orange light unravelling the last of night’s darkness.
Wei Xian’s eyes darted; the emptiness in her gaze suddenly lessened. She gasped sharply, clutching her head.
At the same moment, every nurse voiced a moan of pain, soft or harsh.
Fang Miao asked again, “Where are the lab rats?”
The male nurse who’d stepped on Wei Xian was the first to snap awake.
A torrent of memories surged in his mind: memories of every Sunday at dawn, of what befell the lab rats, of the dire consequences for failing to find them.
He didn’t know why he’d forgotten all this, but he knew it had really happened.
Zhang Lei hastily shook Wei Xian. “Wake up!”
Wei Xian clutched her head. “My head hurts!”
Seeing that the other two nurses were far from regaining their senses, Zhang Lei bolted for the sanatorium lobby.
He was fully awake now, and he realized that if he didn’t hurry and hand over a patient as a lab rat, the head nurse would soon select one of them.
Absolutely not—he couldn’t die.
Last month, he’d witnessed four coworkers throw each other under the bus. He, too, had sent an innocent patient into the lab. There were already three lives on his hands. What’s one more?
He’d forget everything come morning and emerge clean; those people were meant to die, it was fate!
Zhang Lei plotted the quickest route to the fourth floor in his mind.
There was a cancer patient up there—a young woman who’d accidentally hit him in the face last week during an injection.
He knew the treatment pain was severe and knew it wasn’t intentional, but he’d taken offense.
So today he’d make her the lab rat!
Zhang Lei grasped the glass door handle, his expression contorted with dark malice. He yanked hard—
…
The door didn’t budge.
He tried again, clutching the handle more tightly.
Still nothing.
No matter how he tried, the glass doors stood before him like a wall of iron.
“………”
Zhang Lei’s gaze dropped. His face froze in shock.
Le Yi stood on the other side of the glass, tilting her head up to look at Zhang Lei. When she saw she had his attention, she dangled a key.
“The door’s locked. I locked it.”
She said, “I’ve made this proposal many times.”
“It’s always the head nurse who drags the lab rats into the lab. If we all knocked her out together, maybe no one would have to die. But you all always choose someone else to die.”
“My last roommate trusted you—and you skinned her alive.”
“I want to see what you’ll choose this time.”
With that, Le Yi retreated a few steps. Behind her, Xiao Tian made a mocking face at Zhang Lei.
Jiang Yan sat quietly in the lobby, watching the nurses outside the glass from afar.
After a moment, Zhang Lei turned slowly around.
Warm sunlight spilled across his face, but a chill in his eyes could freeze the soul.
“Wei Xian…”
He looked at the dirt-encrusted nurse and sighed. “Drop the act. Rats love to dig holes, after all.”