Once Qiao Qiao concluded her words, she strolled away, holding onto the meat, leaving the trio lost in contemplation.

    “By the way, when George told me we can only leave if the principal stamps our discharge papers. His expression seemed a bit off,” Yu Xiao remarked.

    “How off?” Zhou Xiao Zhen asked. “Is your boyfriend plotting something against you or what?”

    “Buzz off.” Zhao Lan pushed her aside. “Don’t pay attention to her, Smiley. What was George’s expression like?”

    Yu Xiao chewed her lip, carefully replaying the encounter with George in her mind. “He seemed… kind of maliciously gleeful.”

    “Maliciously gleeful?” Zhao Lan mused, recalling Qiao Qiao’s words. “Could this be a setup? Maybe the Dean is the biggest threat in this asylum?”

    “What should we do then?” Zhou Xiao Zhen was completely confused. “If the Dean doesn’t stamp our discharge papers, we’re stuck.”

    As Yu Xiao continued to think about George’s cryptic remarks about the Dean’s elusive nature—The Dean is not the type of person you can casually meet with…

    “What do you think?” Yu Xiao asked. “In a regular hospital, when would the Dean definitely show up?”

    “It has to be something serious,” Zhao Lan, familiar with how the hospital worked since she lived in it the longest, said. “The bigger the problem, the faster the Dean gets involved.”

    Yu Xiao pressed for more information. “So what would be considered a significant issue?”

    Zhou Xiao Zhen raised her hand, her eyes filled with determination. “We’re protest against the medical system!”

    Yu Xiao chuckled. “What could be more impactful than a medical protest?”

    “Only if the hospital collapses,” Zhou Xiao Zhen replied, her gaze contemplative. “An earthquake, a bombing, or doctors going on a collective strike…”

    Suddenly, Yu Xiao’s eyes widened, as if struck by a sudden realisation. Her expression instantly brightened.

    “Precious,” Yu Xiao affectionately patted Zhou Xiao Zhen’s bald head. “Why do I love you so much?”

    Zhou Xiao Zhen remained silent for a moment, gently pushing away Yu Xiao’s hand. “Smiley, please. It’s not good for the hair follicles on my head. I plan to grow my hair long in the future.”

    Zhao Lan asked, “Do you have any ideas?”

    “Yeah, I’ve got an idea, but let’s discuss how to pull it off,” Yu Xiao placed her hands on their shoulders. The three of them huddled together, quietly strategizing.

    Zhou Xiao Zhen occasionally let out mischievous laughter.

    After the lights dimmed that night, Yu Xiao and her companions laid still in their beds. Nighttime fatigue weighed on Yu Xiao, but she endured.

    Around ten minutes later, slow and rhythmic footsteps echoed in the corridor outside. Soon, the door of the ward creaked open. Even with her eyes closed, Yu Xiao sensed the intrusion of light.

    She discreetly opened her eyes a sliver and witnessed three nurses entering. They gathered around the adjacent bed, two nurses looking ordinary, while the third had a peculiar appearance – the upper body black as if burned, the lower body in white, and a hairstyle resembling an explosion, as if struck by lightning.

    The trio manoeuvred the patient from the second bed, with two nurses holding onto the patient’s feet. They dragged the patient away in that manner.

    The door of the ward clanged shut, enveloping them in sudden darkness. Yu Xiao stirred and opened her eyes.

    “Misty,” Zhou Xiao Zhen, who was sitting beside her, sat up, “Are we moving now?”

    “Hold on,” Zhao Lan attuned her senses to the ambient sounds, anticipating the approaching footsteps.

    In the dark ward, the trio huddled in silence until the familiar sound of “thud thud thud” reached their ears.

    “Move!” Yu Xiao sprang from the bed, cautiously opening the door just a sliver.

    They gathered at the threshold, their gazes fixed on the corridor outside, anxiety etched on their faces. The approaching footsteps grew louder, revealing elongated shadows cast by the overhead lights.

    As the shadows receded, a procession appeared, dressed in identical striped hospital gowns—rows upon rows of vacant eyes, shuffling mechanically.

    Having only heard the sounds the previous night, witnessing the ghost procession firsthand was unsettling.

    The corridor was filled with patients dressed uniformly, forming a continuous line that extended beyond the entrance of the ward even after five minutes of observation.

    Zhao Lan, keeping track of the time, declared, “It’s time. The middle and rear sections of the queue are getting closer to the ward. We need to move.”

    Yu Xiao led the way, slipping into a gap and seamlessly blending in with the rhythm of the queue, matching their pace.

    These patients, lacking brains, moved like automatons, devoid of thoughts and desires. Even the presence of the living didn’t jolt any reaction. The trio effortlessly merged into the undulating line.

    As they advanced, the operating room became visible in the distance, a tangible destination in the never-ending flow.

    Yu Xiao anxiously fixed her gaze ahead, where the line showed no signs of slowing down or veering off course. Without hesitation, they charged straight towards the wall adjacent to the operating room. Yu Xiao’s heart pounded, almost reaching her throat, and then, she witnessed a spectacle.

    The line smoothly cut through the wall, even though they had inspected it the night before and found no flaws.

    Yu Xiao couldn’t afford to hesitate. Swept up by the group, she collided with the mottled yellow wall.

    The light ahead disappeared, swallowed by an expanse of boundless darkness. Amidst the footsteps, Yu Xiao heard only silence, not even the rhythmic beat of her own heart, yet her body mechanically propelled forward.

    Before she could fully adjust to the darkness, brightness flooded back.

    Familiar corridors and overhead lights stretched out before her, everything mirroring the scene from moments ago. Yu Xiao turned, and the rest of the queue materialised from a wall behind her.

    Surveying her surroundings, she discerned a difference in the floor. She could sense it.

    The brief spell of darkness was the place Qiao Qiao alluded to—a space untouched by medical staff, a secret passage between floors.

    Zhou Xiao Zhen struggled to catch her breath as she sprinted frantically, feeling exhausted and weighed down by a box of mahjong. Zhao Lan shot her a glance, extending a helping hand. “Give me the mahjong; you hang in there!”

    “Okay,” Zhou Xiao Zhen replied, conserving every ounce of energy as she handed the mahjong to Zhao Lan.

    Layer by layer, they raced through corridors that were nearly identical, save for the strokes of art on the walls. Finally, they breached a barrier, revealing a new breathtaking view – a grand hall adorned with colossal crystal chandeliers and a commanding portrait of the dean that spanned the entire wall. They left behind the outpatient department, infusion hall, pharmacy, and the dean’s office they just passed.

    Their excitement surged, rejuvenating their strides as they returned to their assigned floor. Yu Xiao and Zhou Xiao Zhen, on the verge of exhaustion, found solace leaning against the wall.

    Zhao Lan, casually leaning against the wall, comforted them with gentle pats on their backs. “These stamina cards are a lifesaver,” she declared. “I saw more of them at the mall – quite expensive, fifty points a pop. Once we’re rich, each of you will have one.”

    Too tired to speak, Zhou Xiao Zhen nodded fervently, silently agreeing.

    “Misty,” Yu Xiao gasped, catching her breath. “We made it through once. Do you think our plan will succeed?”

    With confidence, Zhao Lan asserted, “I believe it can. Yes, there’s a risk, but I’m convinced it’s a gamble worth taking.”

    “Alright then, sticking to the original plan.” With that, Yu Xiao stood up, leaning against the wall, carefully navigating the path with deliberate slowness. “I need to rest; otherwise, I’ll collapse tomorrow.” Sёar?h the N?vel?ire.net website on Google to access chapters of novels early and in the highest quality.

    Retreating to the ward, the trio settled in, with Yu Xiao finding solace on the bed. Despite its modest comfort, worn out from their ordeal, the bed felt like a sanctuary of contentment.

    Zhou Xiao Zhen gasped for breath, considering the trio’s plan and eagerly anticipating the excitement that awaited them the following night. Sighing, she reflected, “I never expected this, you know? I thought I would live a simple, ordinary life. But here I am, living on the edge.”

    Listening to her thoughts, Zhao Lan pondered, ‘Youth is something else, full of vitality. Unlike me, all I desire is money without the grind, spending my days lounging at home, scrolling through my phone every single day.’

    “If it interests you, then that’s good,” Zhao Lan replied. “Much better than living in constant fear every damn day.”

    “Misty, are you scared?” Zhou Xiao Zhen inquired.

    Initially, Zhao Lan believed she was, but upon reflection, she realised her fear wasn’t as strong as she thought.

    “I see this as an opportunity; we are all fortunate individuals.” Zhou Xiao Zhen’s eyes sparkled in the darkness. “In the real world, we are all cancer patients. Misty, you lie in bed every day, attached to intravenous drips. I have endured chemotherapy and radiation, and Smiley can’t even have surgery. But here, as long as we earn points, we can buy time, and with time, we can keep on living.”

    “I want to live,” Zhou Xiao Zhen suddenly choked up. “Even if it’s tough, even if I have to live in constant fear every single day, I still want to keep on living.”

    Moved, Zhao Lan realised Zhou Xiao Zhen’s words echoed her deepest feelings. She quietly wiped away a tear. “And Smiley? Smiley, are you scared?”

    “Sister Smiley? Scared? No way,” Zhou Xiao Zhen turned to Yu Xiao. “Right, Smiley?”

    Yu Xiao whispered zzzzZ into the quiet night.

    “…”

    “Ah, never mind. Time for some shut-eye,” Zhou Xiao Zhen shifted her position.

    After all, someone daring enough to flirt with ghosts wouldn’t be interested in contemplating life in the middle of the night. That’s just too boring for her.