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墨書 Inktalez
Unlike Shui Su, who truly possessed the qualifications to practice medicine, Xiao Mei, Song Bunan, and Xin Yi found themselves sitting in a vacant office early in the morning, staring blankly at each other while wearing pristine white lab coats. Xiao Mei even brought a notepad for herself.
Song Bunan was dressed in a nurse's uniform, her cap perfectly placed, and even her curly hair was meticulously styled with hair wax to prevent any stray strands. In contrast to Xiao Mei's boredom, Song Bunan began typing seriously on her laptop as soon as she sat down, her expression grave and focused. The others refrained from disturbing her. Xin Yi, accustomed to sitting quietly, flipped through the hospital behavior manual handed to him by the head nurse upon entry, finding it increasingly interesting.
As a private hospital, this facility had distinct pricing tiers. While there was little difference in outpatient care and medication costs, the disparity became glaringly obvious when hospitalization was required. Ordinary patients were always welcome for consultations; outpatient fees and medication costs were quite fair. However, when it came to hospitalization, it depended heavily on how much money one could afford. There were general wards with basic care and special services tailored for those with more extravagant means.
There were even all-inclusive services; those willing to pay could enjoy home-like care within the hospital. Some would assist with daily needs, others would prepare nutritional meals, some would keep patients entertained to stave off boredom, and there were even staff who would take patients out for outings while ensuring their safety—all expenses for travel and tickets covered.
No wonder many ordinary people's wishes included saving enough money to seek treatment at the Jiang Family's hospital. Xin Yi silently deleted that outrageous amount from his mind, fearing that one day he might discover his decades of savings wouldn't be enough for a single visit. Although Mighty Falcon offered excellent benefits and he had plenty of money.
Outside the office was quite noisy—murmurs of conversation mixed with stifled cries and desperate pleas directed at various doctors. Most of it was filled with sentiments that weighed heavily on the heart. Xin Yi had mostly stayed in Mighty Falcon's private ward after his injuries; while it was bustling outside, there was little of this emotional turmoil there. The people there didn’t concern themselves with life or death; they would cheerfully discuss how they could personally report on their tasks after surviving their ordeals.
The walls of hospitals had heard more pleas and prayers than those of temples or churches. At that moment, Xin Yi truly understood the meaning of that statement.
A woman had been pacing outside the office for quite some time. She either made phone calls inquiring about medication costs or asked those around her about her child's condition. Every word she spoke was laced with a sobbing tone, her voice so humble it seemed to sink into the ground, evoking pity just by sound alone. She even prayed at the door, reciting every deity's name she knew in hopes that some ethereal force would perform a miracle and lend a helping hand.
Xin Yi found himself imagining what it would be like if he had a normal family—would anyone worry about him like that when he fell ill or was injured? After all these years, whenever he opened his eyes after an injury, he always saw a white ceiling above him and heard only doctors and nurses calmly reporting on his condition. Of course, he would receive greetings from his boss after being discharged, but it wasn’t the same as being cared for in the hospital.
He snapped back to reality from the woman’s prayer and noticed Song Bunan had stopped typing. The expressionless person seemed like a machine programmed to focus solely on their work; despite not wearing headphones or anything similar, she appeared completely indifferent to the surrounding noise. Meanwhile, a still-bored Xiao Mei had shifted her attention to playing games on her phone.
What was Song Bunan working on? What could require such prolonged input? Was it related to this investigation? Or perhaps she was preparing for something else?
His attention shifted from the manual to the sounds outside and then back into the room—now focused on the person before him instead of black-and-white text. He began analyzing his emotional state; after all, in over forty years of life, he had once attempted to experience feelings. Back then, when he was younger and found work too smooth sailing, he sought some excitement to keep himself energized. Under his boss’s introduction, he tried dating someone who was somewhat of a peer but not employed by Mighty Falcon.
The girl at that time shared a lively spirit similar to Song Bunan’s but was excessively vivacious. Her views on many matters seemed like those of an outsider from another world—imaginative yet unrestrained by reality—overanalyzing everything she encountered while constantly seeking explanations from him. If he didn’t answer or couldn’t clarify something well enough, it would lead to arguments; he knew he had a quick temper and that their “discussions” always ended in cold wars.
Eventually, it was she who declared giving up first, commenting that he simply didn’t understand what emotions were about. “Just a machine trying to mimic normal humans,” she told his boss.
In the years that followed, Xin Yi learned to hide his violent temper and became increasingly indifferent. Whenever he felt the physiological and psychological need for what he called "emotions," he sought out others who only needed a single moment of comfort. He successfully transformed into a robot that resembled a normal human, imagining all the states of having emotions in his mind. Through these imagined states, he created stories to help himself remain calm in various situations.
After meeting Song Bunan, not only did the frequency of his imaginings increase, but the details also became more specific. A fixed figure began to appear in the stories he concocted, with all plots revolving around this person—either through intimate relationships or as a point of contrast. He even found himself inserting himself into the role of "him" in these stories, wanting to swap identities and experience his life.
He would subconsciously observe Song Bunan, attempting to analyze this person's behavioral patterns based on decades of work experience. However, during their time together, each observation brought new discoveries and surprises.
For instance, right now, the serious worker before him looked perfectly age-appropriate, no longer exhibiting the childish exuberance of youth but rather calm and captivating.
Perhaps because he was staring too intently, the person typing felt his gaze and looked up, meeting his eyes with curiosity and silently asking what was wrong. Xin Yi retracted all his thoughts and gently shook his head, choosing not to break the silence.
The one who received no answer smiled, their eyes sparkling as they lowered their head to continue working. But soon after, Xin Yi's phone vibrated. He opened it to find a message from Song Bunan: "If you're bored, you can chat with me on your phone." Accompanying it was a picture of a cow holding a beer and giving a thumbs-up.
"I'm just daydreaming," he replied.
"Really? Brother Xinyi, you stare at people when you're daydreaming!" came the shocked emoji right after.
"No, I just didn't notice where I was looking. You should get back to work." He felt an inexplicable fear about this kind of chatting, worried that if he got used to it, he wouldn't be able to escape. The other party seemed to sense his reluctance and replied with a thoughtful rabbit emoji before adding after a while: "I'm writing a summary diary; I'll finish soon."
What a good habit! Xin Yi pondered. Although he never believed that keeping a diary could bring about any change in him—he thought writing down past events and future imaginings was like leaving behind a signature at a crime scene—he respected others' habits as part of his own.
"I've uploaded all the photos from the lab to the group album; it's inconvenient to carry the physical ones. We should be able to learn what we need to do in the hospital with Shui Su this afternoon. I heard there's big chicken legs and braised pork in the cafeteria for lunch. Brother Xinyi, what dishes do you like? I saw you munching on corn yesterday."
Clearly starting to lose focus, Song Bunan returned to a more childlike tone in their chat, sending a complex message. Xin Yi glanced over; the person at the computer still wore an expressionless face. After pondering for a while over the question, he finally replied that he wasn't picky about food.
"That's great! It's best not to be picky! We'll definitely see each other often from now on; I’ll cook my specialty for you! If you have any dietary restrictions, make sure to let me know; otherwise, allergies can be quite uncomfortable. Ah... why is it only ten o'clock? I've written thousands of words already! It’s only ten!"
"We're not working; time will naturally pass more slowly. Don't rush." For reasons unknown to him, Xin Yi found his tone towards Song Bunan becoming very gentle. Unlike how he spoke with his boss with strictness, there was now an element of coaxing in his voice. This is what friends are like, he defined it in his mind.
Song Bunan's expression pack was a mix of emotions, and at that moment, a cat poked its head out of the snow, grinning crookedly. "It's so noisy outside; I can hear an aunt talking."
"Did you catch what she said?" Xin Yi asked, curious about his thoughts.
"I understood every word. Every punctuation mark was clear. She's a poor aunt." Despite the lack of emotion in the text, Xin Yi could sense some feelings in the expression pack—a cat face with ellipses, showing a hint of helplessness mixed with indifference.
"What do you think about this kind of thing?" he pressed on, not willing to let it go.
Out of the corner of his eye, Song Bunan showed a flicker of expression. He furrowed his brow for a moment before relaxing it and typing rapidly.
"It's just a normal part of life. This world is full of joy for some and sorrow for others; such things happen every day. Trying to salvage it often ends up being in vain. Prayer is probably the best way she can comfort herself, even if it doesn't really help."
This was an answer Xin Yi had not anticipated. He had thought that Song Bunan's empathetic nature would lead him to express some melancholic thoughts. He edited his doubts in the chat box until he distilled them into one sentence: "I thought you believed in prayer."
"I believe in many things, but prayer is debatable. Living and dying are two intersecting worlds, but where God is remains unknown. Thoughts of the deceased can be conveyed quickly, but as for God, who knows?"
The conversation suddenly took on a serious tone, leaving Xin Yi unsure how to respond further. Fortunately, Song Bunan sent another message, clarifying that this was just his perspective and that others shouldn't be defined by it. "So brother Xinyi, don't worry about it; I was just expressing my feelings. By the way, do you want coffee? I'm thinking of ordering takeout; I'm feeling a bit sleepy."
Looking up, Xin Yi noticed Song Bunan also looking over with a pained expression on his face as he closed his laptop and stretched widely. "So let's order some coffee; if I don't get something stimulating soon, I'm really going to fall asleep."
The gamer didn't even glance up but replied, "Approved. An iced Americano without sugar, please."
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