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墨書 Inktalez
After four days, the still unconscious Wang Chao was sent back to Long City People's Hospital for continued treatment. Wang Chao's wife, Zhao Wenjing, resigned from her job to take care of her husband in his comatose state. According to the doctors, although there were no obvious external injuries on Wang Chao's head, the blow had damaged his brain. He could wake up at any moment or remain in this state for the rest of his life.
Xu Yiman noticed that Old Shao seemed particularly averse to the term "vegetative state." Whenever it was mentioned, Old Shao would fall silent, closing his eyes.
No one knew when Wang Chao would wake up, and no one could help him. Now, all Wang Chao could rely on was himself and his will to survive. Zhao Wenjing stayed by her husband's side, holding his hand. At that moment, Wang Chao was covered in tubes and wounds.
Zhao Wenjing's presence offered little comfort; given Wang Chao's injuries, even wiping his body was prohibited. He was always dirty, with blood seeping through the bandages and drying up.
"He has always been stubborn," Zhao Wenjing said with red eyes, turning to a few people nearby. "Since he was a child, while other kids couldn't climb trees, he insisted on doing it. Even if he fell, he would get back up. In middle school, he got into trouble and was beaten by several people but refused to let go. His grades were poor in high school, yet he still wanted to apply to the police academy. That's just who he is—no one can stop him from doing what he wants; he would risk everything to achieve it."
As she held Wang Chao's hand, she continued to recount stories about him.
She wasn't speaking for anyone else; she was speaking for the comatose Wang Chao and for herself.
"Well then, we'll take our leave," Old Shao said after glancing at Zhao Wenjing. After a moment of thought, he added, "Take good care of him. Don't worry about the expenses; this is the least we can do."
With that, they left the hospital room.
Through the glass window of the ward, Zhao Wenjing could still be seen murmuring something—talking to Wang Chao and to herself.
Jiang He hailed a taxi on his way home. No matter how much the driver tried to engage him in conversation, he remained silent. This was a stark contrast to his usual self; normally, Jiang He would be eager to debate with the taxi driver. He couldn't quite understand what was happening to him; it felt as if something was off.
When Jiang He got out of the taxi and prepared to walk up the stairs to the second floor from outside, he happened to run into Shui Xinlan and her boyfriend coming out of their apartment.
"Uncle?" Shui Xinlan exclaimed upon seeing Jiang He, her heart racing with excitement.
"Hmm?" Jiang He turned around. "What’s wrong?"
"Can't I call you if I don't have anything to do?" Shui Xinlan said.
"You can," Jiang He replied.
Shui Xinlan snorted coldly, "You're still so clueless about romance."
Jiang He glanced at Shui Xinlan and her boyfriend, then turned away as he walked up the stairs to the second floor, saying, "Enjoy your Western meal."
"How did you know we were going to eat Western food?" Shui Xinlan shouted.
Jiang He had already entered the house.
Shui Xinlan stared at the empty staircase in a daze and couldn't help but mutter, "Crazy."
Her boyfriend looked at Shui Xinlan, seemingly lost in thought.
Once home, Jiang He did nothing. He didn't study the clouds or observe the ants on the ground; he simply lay down on his bed and fell asleep, not thinking about anything. His bed was piled high with dirty clothes, and he didn't even bother to take off his shoes. He just pulled the blanket over himself and started to sleep, looking as if he wanted to sink into a deep slumber.
Jiang He slept soundly through the night. He dreamt of when he was six years old, recalling the scene of an explosion behind him as a building collapsed. He hadn't even been able to see his parents one last time. He remembered the moment a few years ago when his great-aunt held his hand tightly before she passed away, worried that he wouldn't be able to survive without her. He also dreamt of Wang Chao lying on a hospital bed, never waking up.
In his dreams, time seemed to stretch infinitely. As a patient with Hyperthymesia, Jiang He couldn't forget anything; every detail in his dreams was a real event that had occurred. He never dreamed of things that hadn't happened; in his dreams, he lost all imagination. The pain was unbearable, and unlike when he was awake, there was no escape.
Jiang He jolted awake from his dream, his head pounding painfully. He let out a series of anguished cries. To alleviate the pain, he tugged at his hair and scratched at his thigh with his nails. Only by pulling out clumps of hair and digging into his thigh until it was mangled could he find a bit of relief from the excruciating headache.
"Jiang He! Uncle!"
A pair of hands grabbed Jiang He’s arm, and he instinctively embraced the person. With his eyes closed, he felt that this person was soft and fragrant. Waves of pain surged through him, a torment more intense than having his flesh torn apart by a dog, more severe than undergoing debridement without anesthesia.
It was almost a pain that transcended the physical, a mental anguish.
“Ah! Ah!” Jiang He kept groaning softly.
“It’s okay, it’s okay!”
Shui Xinlan was tightly held by Jiang He, struggling to breathe. She gently patted his back, tenderly stroking his head as if soothing a cat, her voice softly comforting him in his ear.
Fortunately, Jiang He’s headache came in waves and wouldn’t last too long. Yet in those brief minutes, he was drenched in sweat, teetering between life and death.
Gradually, Jiang He calmed down while Shui Xinlan continued to whisper softly, gently caressing him.
“It’s okay, don’t be afraid,” Shui Xinlan said.
In that moment, Jiang He felt incredibly vulnerable, curled up like a frightened dog. Few had ever seen him like this.
Old Shao and Xu Yiman had once discussed that hyperthymesia did not affect one’s emotional understanding; it merely prevented someone from forgetting all their life experiences without stripping them of their emotions. Yet Jiang He seemed devoid of feelings—he didn’t know sadness or joy, couldn’t sense others’ emotions, and was unsure whether he wanted to cry or laugh.
This wasn’t a result of hyperthymesia; it was something he had created for himself. Like a hedgehog with its quills exposed, no one could see the depths of his heart. Over time, Jiang He had forgotten that he was capable of softness and that he was a normal person who could feel happiness and sorrow.
“What time is it now?” Jiang He asked.
Shui Xinlan replied with irritation, “You’ve been asleep for an entire night since you went upstairs, like a pig—completely still. If I hadn’t seen your steady breathing, I would have thought you were dead.”
"Did you stay upstairs with me?" Jiang He asked again.
Shui Xinlan released Wang Chao and pointed to the cold dishes nearby. "Yes, ever since you came back, I felt something was off with you. You weren't acting like your usual self, and at night, you didn't even seem to be tormenting those old Sows. I knew something was wrong, so I came up to find you, but no matter how much I called, I couldn't wake you."
"Until just now when you had that nightmare," Shui Xinlan continued. "What did you dream about? It was terrifying."
Jiang He lightly tapped his head and said, "To be precise, it wasn't a nightmare; it was something that really happened."
Then Jiang He added, "I noticed you're dressed up in formal wear and wearing makeup. This isn't what you'd wear at home. Are you going to some event?"
Shui Xinlan playfully hit Jiang He and replied helplessly, "I had originally planned to attend an awards ceremony with my boyfriend, but since I was worried about you being alone in the house, I didn't go. Now you think of a way to make it up to me, landlord!"
"What award?" Jiang He asked.
"Detective..."
Before Shui Xinlan could finish her sentence, Jiang He's phone suddenly rang. It was an unfamiliar number. With his hyperthymesia, Jiang He never needed a contact list; he could remember every phone number of anyone who had ever called him. This meant that this number was calling Jiang He's phone for the first time.
"Hello, who is this?" Jiang He asked.
"Officer Jiang? Is this Officer Jiang?" a voice inquired.
"Yes, it's me. Who are you?" Jiang He responded.
The voice on the other end sounded anxious. "It's good that it's you, Officer Jiang. I'm Song Xiangmei's mother. You need to come quickly and see what's wrong with her. She was fine before, but suddenly she went crazy, and we don't know what's happening. Officer Jiang, Xiangmei is the one you brought back; we have no other options and thought of you."
"Is Song Xiangmei crazy?" Jiang He asked, puzzled.
Song Xiangmei's mother replied, "Yes, the doctors at the hospital have diagnosed her with some sort of persecution delusion. In other words, she's become mentally ill. We wouldn't want to trouble you if we had any other choice, but please come by."
"Tell me the address." Jiang He decided to go after all.
If the hospital had confirmed Song Xiangmei's condition, then it couldn't be faked. Moreover, there was no reason for Song Xiangmei to pretend to be mentally ill; at least until He Caiqie was released from prison, no one would make things difficult for her. And He Caiqie wouldn't be out for at least ten more years, so there was no need for Song Xiangmei to be this afraid.
However, there was still that question from Jiang He that Song Xiangmei hadn't answered yet, which was one of the main reasons he wanted to see her.
Jiang He sniffed the cold food beside him; it didn't smell bad and seemed fine. He picked up his chopsticks and took a couple of bites, finding it slightly sour.
"This has been sitting out all afternoon!" Shui Xinlan exclaimed. "If you're hungry, I'll make you something fresh."
"No need." Jiang He said with his mouth full, "I'm leaving soon. If you don't have anything else to do, could you help clean up the place?"
With that, Jiang He rushed out the door, leaving Shui Xinlan looking exasperated.
"Do you really think I'm your housekeeper?" Shui Xinlan shouted angrily. "I pay rent too, you know!"
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