The two men guarding He Shaoqing’s door were from his current assignment, the Serious Crimes Unit Five. The bulky one, Xu Hui, was the team leader and He Shaoqing’s former police academy instructor. He hadn't known Bai Ru before, but upon learning that He Shaoqing was critically wounded—having even briefly stopped breathing, with the hospital ready to cease treatment—he felt a surge of gratitude mixed with profound admiration for this doctor, Bai Ru, so beautiful she looked like a model, who had defied the hospital’s objections to save him.

“Doctor Bai, how is Kuang Feifan doing?” Xu Hui suddenly pressed.

“He woke up once, but slipped back into a coma. We administered a strong dose of sedative; it was necessary for his body to recover fully. He won't be completely lucid until tomorrow morning at the earliest,” Bai Ru calculated.

Xu Hui frowned, concern etching his face. “It’s been over ten hours since midnight, and we haven't uncovered anything suspicious besides knowing they’re injured and unconscious. This is proving difficult.”

Bai Ru let out a soft sigh but said nothing. She knew that revealing certain things wouldn't necessarily be believed and might even cause others to view her as unstable.

Entering He Shaoqing’s room, Bai Ru meticulously examined his condition. Though his wounds had been cleaned and disinfected, and his heartbeat was steadying, he still showed no signs of waking.

After a moment's thought, Bai Ru pulled up a chair beside He Shaoqing, gently taking one of his hands in hers. She closed her eyes slightly, focusing her senses to perceive the state of his body.

Bai Ru and Kuang Feifan were born in the same month, day, and year; this coincidence was what initially brought them together as a couple. At twenty-five, she already held triple credentials: a Ph.D. in Clinical Pathology, a Master’s in Clinical Psychology, and certification as a Hypnotherapist. Currently, she served as the Chief Physician in the Psychiatric and Psychological Department of the very hospital they were in, simply because she loved psychology.

In Kuang Feifan’s estimation, Bai Ru’s rise to Chief Physician at such a young age demonstrated her capability. What Kuang Feifan didn't know, or rather, didn't need to know, was that Bai Ru possessed another exceptional skill—a genuine ability unknown to most: she could commune with spirits.

Bai Ru had never truly disclosed this ability to Kuang Feifan because she knew he was highly skeptical of such matters. Ghosts, in his mind, were mere legends, stories passed down, products of hearsay and exaggeration. Nor did she ever intend to introduce him to the supernatural firsthand. She possessed this ability, yet she understood the distress and confusion it caused ordinary people. Still, she couldn't resist countering him whenever he dismissed talk of ghosts as quackery. Sometimes, their debates would escalate into arguments, yet in those moments, she couldn't reveal the truth of her power. Ultimately, both she and Kuang Feifan chose to part ways, moving from lovers to casual acquaintances who occasionally called or shared a meal every month or two.

He Shaoqing’s situation was dire, extending beyond the physical to the spiritual. Upon seeing his wounds, Bai Ru had instantly diagnosed Corpse Poisoning (Shī Dú), with the toxic gas having already reached his heart. However, she lacked the necessary antidote. But He Shaoqing was Kuang Feifan’s closest friend—and during their relationship, He Shaoqing frequently tagged along, acting as their ‘third wheel.’ Over time, Bai Ru and He Shaoqing had become genuinely friendly. Given this context, Bai Ru absolutely could not allow him to die.

Under duress, Bai Ru secured the cooperation of the emergency room staff by personally taking full responsibility. She employed the Life Extension with Golden Needles (Jīn Zhēn Xù Mìng) technique, which she had learned but never used before, temporarily stabilizing He Shaoqing’s vital heart meridian. Traditional methods for combating Corpse Poisoning involved black donkey hooves or glutinous rice. Yet, in a modern city, finding a black donkey hoof on short notice was nearly impossible. While glutinous rice could draw out the poison, He Shaoqing was deeply afflicted; even with rice, the poison wouldn't clear quickly enough, rendering the outcome fatal regardless.

Fortunately, Bai Ru had her own resources. The cure for the Corpse Poisoning existed, but it wasn't on hand. Her immediate task was to keep He Shaoqing’s body alive. Besides using the golden needles to protect his meridians and sealing thirty-six vital acupoints, once his heart resumed beating, she utilized every Western medical tool at her disposal: adrenaline, anti-toxin serum—everything she could think of—she administered to He Shaoqing. Naturally, she included the glutinous rice as well, though she did this secretly, fearing the complications of explaining it if seen.

Furthermore, she had already telephoned several friends in distant cities; the required antidote medication should arrive via express delivery soon.

Let’s hope it works, Bai Ru thought, changing the rice pack on his wounds once more, and letting out a slow breath. She figured she wouldn't be going home tonight; she would stay at the hospital. She planned to check on Kuang Feifan later, but first, she needed to return to her office to use the internet to continue contacting the friends who could help.

As dusk deepened, Kuang Feifan, lying in his hospital bed, suddenly jolted awake from a deep sleep. He tried to open his eyes but found he couldn't lift his eyelids no matter how hard he strained. He attempted to sit up, but his body felt as if pinned down by an immense weight; despite his struggles, his arms and legs refused to move, and his entire frame felt rigid.

It was then that he saw two hands—two hands slowly crawling up toward his neck.

These hands were unlike the withered ones he remembered from the haunted building; they were skeletal, reduced to skin and bone, yet sized like an adult’s. The skin on the arms was unnaturally pale, faintly tinged with blue, and Kuang Feifan could even make out the veins writhing beneath the surface.

Kuang Feifan couldn’t see who these hands belonged to, but he clearly felt the immense, unyielding weight of the palms, starkly contrasting with their frail appearance. As the hands moved slowly toward his throat, a chilling cold, seemingly emanating from the netherworld, washed over the spots they touched, and his body began to gradually lose sensation amidst the freezing air.

Kuang Feifan’s consciousness was unnervingly sharp, and his hearing acutely sensitive. He could hear faint weeping from outside, yet around his immediate vicinity, there was absolute silence—so quiet he could hear his own heart beating. Everything that was happening flooded his mind with one thought: he was experiencing sleep paralysis.

An inexplicable rage surged within him. Kuang Feifan wondered which unfortunate spirit he had offended to inherit all its bad luck. First, he chased a thief into a haunted building, and now, trying to get a decent night's sleep, he was subjected to ghost-pinning.

As far as Kuang Feifan knew, sleep paralysis had a scientific explanation rooted in poor sleeping posture causing circulatory issues. But he had entirely discarded those scientific explanations now. This was, quite simply, a ghost pressing down on his bed. By this point, the spectral hands had grasped his neck and were tightening relentlessly. He felt he couldn't breathe. Perhaps the surge of fury had triggered an adrenaline spike, because suddenly, a roar erupted from his chest. His two hands, which had been lying uselessly at his sides, could actually lift. He immediately clamped his hands around the ghostly ones gripping his throat and yanked outward with all his might.

Accompanied by a sharp, piercing groan that felt like it was drilling into his eardrums, he abruptly threw his eyes open. The ghostly hands vanished, and the faint weeping outside ceased abruptly. He lay flat on his back, his arms still bent and held up in front of his face.

Was it a nightmare? Or had he truly encountered a ghost? For a moment, he even doubted if he was still alive. But the confusion passed instantly. He rolled over and sat up, his entire body slick with cold sweat. He desperately wanted to throw off the covers and get a glass of water, but hesitated, as the warmth beneath the covers offered a sliver of tangible security.

The terrifying experiences in the haunted building had instilled a degree of fear in Kuang Feifan, especially facing darkness alone; his heart was lodged in his throat. However, the burning thirst that scorched his throat compelled him to seek water.

By now, he realized he was in the hospital and remembered Bai Ru giving him water earlier. He recalled asking about He Shaoqing and Bai Ru saying he seemed mostly alright. This memory brought a slight easing of his tension. He glanced toward the bedside table; the luminous dial of his watch showed 12:40 AM. The faint glow of the hands, coupled with the rhythmic ticking, created a continuous illusion that something was slowly approaching the bedside.

Besides the watch, there was only a water cup—and it was empty. There wasn't even a water pitcher on the table. He licked his lips, which felt so dry they might crack, and reluctantly climbed out of bed. Grabbing the cup, he prepared to go out and find the water station for a refill.

The corridor outside the ward door was profoundly quiet. The rooms on both sides were dark, and he couldn't see a single patient or even a nurse on duty. This wasn't a hospital ward; it felt more like a lifeless tomb. Still groggy, Kuang Feifan didn't notice this immediately upon stepping out, but after a few paces, he sensed that something was terribly wrong. The surroundings were not what one would expect in a normal hospital setting.

“No way, just finished one thing, and here comes another?” Kuang Feifan was so enraged he nearly hurled the empty cup against the wall, but he restrained himself, turned, and prepared to head back into his room.

He took only two steps before his eyes widened. A familiar scene reappeared before him. When he had left the room, he distinctly remembered that after one more room to the right, he would reach the end of the corridor, facing a glass window. But now, the corridor before him showed no other doors along either wall, nor could he see the end of the hallway.

Horrified, he whipped his head around to look behind him. There was only a dark, indistinct mass, and the corridor stretched endlessly into the black void.

He forced himself to take a few more steps forward, only then realizing that the only sounds in the entire hallway were his own ragged breaths and footsteps. Yet, every sound seemed to violently stimulate his eardrums and pound against his heart. Even though he tried his hardest to slow his pace, the sounds grew heavier and gradually began to interweave with his own steps. He suddenly understood: the footsteps weren't just his. Someone, or something unknown, was following him!