Only the participants of the story have no memory of the roles they play, and this is the restriction imposed on them by the current tale.
Ring! Ring!
A bell rang, signaling the midday break.
The doctors from various departments, who had been talking nonstop all morning, finally breathed a sigh of relief, stepping out of their offices to stretch their limbs. Meanwhile, nurses gathered in small groups, chatting and laughing as they headed toward the cafeteria.
Lunchtime was short, but it was their rare moment of respite.
Chen Mo followed the crowd into the cafeteria, casually picked up a meal, and looked up to see Old Zhang already sitting at a table in the corner, waving at him.
Chen Mo immediately walked over with his tray.
Neither of them had anticipated that others would be participating in this story. Since their identities had already been revealed, "Old Zhang" no longer bothered to maintain his dull facade.
Aside from giving the participants a plausible identity, the story didn’t seem to demand any acting skills from them.
Chen Mo even wondered: since "Old Zhang" was also a participant, could it be that there were more participants in this story, all hiding their identities and cautiously gathering information, just like him?
According to Old Zhang, he had entered this story the night before, earlier than Chen Mo. He didn’t hide his subsequent experiences, but one thing was strange—after the incident, all the hospital’s surveillance cameras had simultaneously malfunctioned, making the footage unviewable. It seemed like the story’s power had intervened.
Chen Mo then shared the clue he had uncovered—the true cause of Qi Dongsheng’s death—with Old Zhang.
"That’s not surprising. The story always finds ways to entangle us participants in the events," Old Zhang said, unfazed after hearing Chen Mo’s account. "But the role you’re playing in this story is too close to the core figures, which makes it more dangerous. You need to be extra careful, especially watch out for anything unusual around you."
"And that missing corpse—I have a feeling that if we find it, we might discover a way to solve the problem."
"Do you think that surgical accident is the reason behind the vengeful spirit’s killings?" Chen Mo added.
"Hard to say," Old Zhang shook his head. "Given the story’s usual patterns, things shouldn’t be that simple. While we’re still in the safe early phase of the story, it’s best to gather as many clues as possible."
Chen Mo nodded. Old Zhang’s words reminded him of someone else—the young nurse who had come early that morning to relay the director’s "special care" instructions. Her name seemed to be Yang Xiaoyu.
The deceased had been hospitalized multiple times. As a nurse, Yang Xiaoyu must have known about it. Perhaps she could provide new leads.
After parting ways with Old Zhang, Chen Mo headed toward the cardiology break room on the fifth floor. But before he got close, he saw a crowd gathered in the hallway. Some people spotted Chen Mo and, pale-faced, waved him over. "Director Zhao, something’s happened! Call the police, quick!"
Chen Mo’s heart skipped a beat. He pushed through the crowd to his office door, where a thick, bloody smell hit him. Before him lay a decapitated body, pools of blood staining the floor red.
The victim was none other than Yang Xiaoyu.
He had been planning to ask Yang Xiaoyu for information, but she had already been killed right outside his office door.
Not only that, but the circumstances of her death were clearly bizarre. This wasn’t some remote wilderness—it was a bustling hospital. Though the incident occurred during lunch break, there were still plenty of people coming and going in the hallway. How had the murderer managed to kill and dismember Yang Xiaoyu without her making a single sound?
Standing amid the noisy crowd, Chen Mo felt a chill run down his spine. The answer seemed almost obvious.
The one who killed Yang Xiaoyu was a supernatural force!
But why Yang Xiaoyu?
And why right outside his office?
Chen Mo stood frozen at the door for a few seconds before snapping back to reality. "Everyone, step back! Don’t disturb the scene!"
The crowd in front retreated half a step, and Chen Mo took the opportunity to close the office door. This action seemed like a way to preserve the scene, but his real intention was to use the brief time before the police arrived to see if he could find any clues at the site of Yang Xiaoyu’s death.
Chen Mo scanned the area. Not far from Yang Xiaoyu’s body, some papers were scattered messily. He walked over and picked up a few. On one sheet, he noticed scratches, as if something had been forcefully dragged across it.
Continuing to search through the papers, he found one with handwriting. The strokes were deeply pressed, leaving indentations on the paper beneath.
The handwriting was very messy, reflecting the writer’s agitation. Chen Mo squinted to make it out. It seemed to say: Is it him?
Below these words, there were some bloodstains. Just as Chen Mo was about to put the paper down, he noticed that the stained area also seemed to have some writing—easy to miss if not careful.
It was a string of numbers, scribbled hastily, as if left in a rush.
2f0
What did this string of numbers mean?
Folding the paper and putting it in his pocket, Chen Mo walked to the door without changing his expression, catching snippets of conversation.
"Dr. Zhao is really impressive—calm under pressure, handling everything methodically."
"No wonder he became a director so young."
"Hmph, I’m not so sure. I heard that the trouble in our hospital this time has a lot to do with this Zhao."
"Who knows what’s really going on behind the scenes... heh heh!"
Chen Mo opened the door without a word. The few people gossiping right outside were caught off guard, their faces instantly turning awkward.
Being caught badmouthing someone to their face was never a pleasant situation.
But Chen Mo’s face remained expressionless. Just then, hurried footsteps echoed down the hallway as several police officers arrived. Chen Mo nodded at them, signaling the handover of the scene, and then walked down the corridor.
He recalled that when he had passed through the hallway earlier, he had glimpsed a row of lockers through the open break room door. Each column of lockers had large letter labels printed on them.
That label reminded Chen Mo.
Could this string of numbers and letters be the locker number Yang Xiaoyu had left behind?