Chapter 1

"Number 3232 is being quite cooperative today."

"Hmph... that kid is cunning. I advise you to be careful."

"That's true... I heard a temp almost lost an eye to him last week."

"That was lucky... you haven't been here long, so you might not know... before he was isolated, he stole a pipe wrench from the electrician's toolbox while he was fixing something, and beat another patient so badly he was nearly killed."

"Whoa! That serious?"

"You bet. That's why... when dealing with these psychos, you better watch your back. Some of them look more civilized than the doctors, but when they go crazy, they're like rabid dogs... they'll pounce and bite you to death."

The two orderlies chatted as they strapped Feng Bujue into the restraint chair.

They discussed this right in front of Jue-ge, without a care, because in their eyes… mental patients were no different from out-of-control animals. There was no need to consider their feelings or dignity.

"Gentlemen..." After a few seconds, Feng Bujue joined the conversation. "Could you please tell me..." He paused for half a second, then asked, "Where is this? Who am I?"

"Ha!" Upon hearing this, the orderly who sounded like a veteran let out a dry laugh and replied, "What, you've forgotten even that? This is Buckingham Palace, and you're the Prince of England!"

The new orderly laughed at this, too. "Yeah, we're both your servants, about to shave you."

They had already secured Feng Bujue firmly in the restraint chair as they said this.

The chair was made of metal, with leather padding on the seat and back, and was quite large. It had adjustable straps at various points... clearly designed to accommodate patients of all sizes.

"I'm not joking..." Although the two hadn't given him a serious answer, Feng Bujue remained calm and spoke again. "I really want to know where I am and who I am..."

"Bai Sha Mental Hospital." This time, the veteran orderly interrupted him impatiently before he could finish his question. "As for your name... I don't know. You've been here longer than I have. All I know is your number is 3232. Anything else... you'll have to ask your own messed-up brain."

He paused for two seconds, then picked up an electric shaver from the table in front of the chair and added, "Now, I suggest you sit there and don't move... let us finish our work, and then... you can go back to your room and ponder your life."

…………

Fifteen minutes later...

Feng Bujue didn't do anything out of the ordinary during the shave, so the two orderlies were able to finish the job and return him to his room without incident.

On the way back to the room, Feng Bujue asked to see his doctor.

But the orderly replied, "The doctor is busy. You'll have to wait until your regular checkup."

Jue-ge immediately asked when his next checkup would be.

The answer he received was—"Tomorrow."

After this exchange, the two orderlies left.

Jue-ge was once again alone in the small room.

Feng Bujue lay flat on his back on the floor, using his hands as a pillow, and began to ponder the situation.

First of all, the most important thing he needed to figure out was whether he was still in the game world.

Based on the available information, the answer to that question was more than ninety percent likely to be... no.

In the game world, he could open the game menu, but he couldn't now. In the game world, he could forcibly disconnect, but he couldn't now. In the game world, he couldn't take off his pants, but he had taken them off quite easily earlier.

Furthermore, he couldn't use any of his inventory, equipment, skills, or Soul Intent... He had even tested his physical fitness with simple exercises, and the conclusion was—his current physical condition was worse than an average person, even worse than his real-life self.

Of course, there was still a ten percent chance that he was in a script world that transcended ordinary connection methods.

However, so far, Feng Bujue had found no evidence to support this hypothesis...

So, he began to consider the second question—assuming he wasn't in the game world, but in reality, could this be classified as "transmigration"?

For example... his soul had arrived in the "reality" of another universe, and he was no longer a projection, but truly controlling a certain body.

If this hypothesis were true, then he would have to face the third question—how could he return to his own world?

Finally, beyond all these questions and hypotheses, there was the worst, but seemingly reasonable, conjecture.

—This, was the real... real world.

Feng Bujue didn't dwell on this hypothesis, because he thought... the possibility was practically zero.

After all, the vast amount of knowledge in Jue-ge's mind, and the thinking abilities acquired through training, were all real and could be verified at any time.

These could prove that... at least on a conscious level, he was "Feng Bujue," and not the "Patient 3232" who had been locked up in the mental hospital for many years.

…………

Two hours passed in the blink of an eye, and there was another sound from the door.

Feng Bujue looked up and saw that someone had opened a panel at the bottom of the door and slid a tray of food in from the outside.

"Time to eat." The veteran orderly's voice sounded again from outside the door.

Feng Bujue had been so focused on thinking that he had ignored his physical needs, but now... when he smelled the aroma of the food, he belatedly realized... he was actually a bit hungry.

"Hmm... another setting that shouldn't exist in a 'game world'." Feng Bujue muttered thoughtfully as he moved toward the door. "According to this 'getting hungry and thirsty' trend, I might even have to go to the bathroom later."

Regardless, he still had to eat...

Since the room was small, Feng Bujue simply didn't get up. He casually rolled over, scooted across the floor, and was soon behind the door.

Looking closely, he noticed that even the tableware here was designed to be "suicide-proof": the food tray was light green and made of a memory-state material. This material could bend to a certain degree like rubber, deform under pressure, and return to its original shape and maintain a certain hardness when no external force was applied... If you used this to hit someone's head, it would probably be no different from hitting them with a child's baseball bat, not as hard as a human fist.

As for the eating utensils... they weren't chopsticks or knives and forks, but a special "fork-spoon." Its color and material were the same as the tray, and its hardness... was definitely higher than the food, but not enough to hurt anyone.

"They really thought this through..." Feng Bujue muttered after picking up the fork-spoon, then started eating without any further ceremony.

He had to admit... the food at this mental hospital was much better than Jue-ge had imagined. They didn't feed the patients cheap, mushy, dark cuisine like some movies and TV shows portrayed. Instead, they arranged for the same meal standards as the staff—two meat dishes, one vegetable dish, rice, and soup.

Soon, Feng Bujue had devoured everything on the tray. Then, he placed the tray behind the door, leaned back, and lay down.

"Ah—" After letting out a satisfying burp, Jue-ge couldn't help but sigh. "If these days continue, I'll probably turn into Ji Chunsheng..." Speaking of Ji Chunsheng, he had to use the man's lines to make a joke, "Although the conditions here are a bit poor, as the saying goes—'A broken cold kiln can shelter from the rain, free food and drink make hardship sweet'~ This opportunity to temper my will and endure trials is quite rare..."

…………

Feng Bujue fell asleep.

He didn't know how he fell asleep, but it was probably due to the drowsiness after eating his fill.

He also didn't know how long he slept, but when he woke up, the tray behind the door was gone, and... the lighting in the room had changed.

Previously, the light tubes in the ceiling emitted a soft white light, but now, the light had turned to a nocturnal blue, and its brightness had been greatly reduced.

"Is it evening..." Seeing this, Jue-ge, still a bit dazed, muttered to himself, "Or... did they discover I was asleep through some hidden camera and turn off the lights for me..."

At this moment, he no longer considered things like "you can't fall asleep in the game world" or "how long has it been" and "how is my body doing in the game pod".

Human instinct made him start to adapt...

To adapt to the environment in front of him, to adapt to this unfamiliar "reality."

…………

At some point, the lights came back on.

Feng Bujue was awake, thinking, but he didn't open his eyes.

After another period of time, the panel at the top of the door slid open, and a voice different from yesterday's orderly's came from outside the door: "3232, wake up."

Feng Bujue opened his eyes and replied, "Can I see the doctor now?"

The person outside the door was silent for a few seconds after hearing this, then replied, "Your checkup is scheduled for ten o'clock. Now... come with me to wash up."

Jue-ge didn't say anything more, but stood up, stretched his limbs, and waited quietly behind the door.

He heard the sound of the person outside entering the password on the lock, and then the door opened.

Waiting for him in the hallway were still two orderlies, but these two were new faces.

"Did those two from yesterday have a day off today?" Feng Bujue asked another question as he faced the two men.

"None of your business." The other party replied coldly, then grabbed his arm.

Just like yesterday, Feng Bujue was restrained on either side by two burly male orderlies and led toward his destination...

…………

"Are you still listening to me?"

Suddenly, a familiar voice entered Feng Bujue's ears.

"What?" This sudden change caught Jue-ge off guard, and he instinctively uttered those two words.

The next second, he was surprised to find that he was already sitting in an office.

This office looked spacious and bright, with windows facing the outside, but the windows were fitted with iron bars on both the inside and outside.

At this moment, Feng Bujue was secured in a restraint chair. In front of him was a desk, and sitting across from him was... a middle-aged man in a white coat and black-framed glasses.

"I was just asking you..." Hearing Jue-ge's response, the middle-aged man showed a hint of impatience. "Did you tell the orderlies yesterday... that you wanted to see me?"

"You are..." Feng Bujue continued, "... are you the doctor in charge of me?"

As he asked, he thought to himself: How did I get here? I was clearly still in the hallway... Could it be memory loss?

"Sigh..." A second later, the man across the desk sighed. "Yes, I'm Doctor Yuan. Don't you remember me?"

"Sorry, I don't think... I do." Feng Bujue replied. "But from now on, I will."

"I hope so." Doctor Yuan shook his head, paused for two seconds, and then said, "Then... do you remember that you asked to see me?"

"I remember." Feng Bujue said solemnly, "I have many things I want to ask you."

"What things?" Doctor Yuan replied.

"My name, age, date of admission, illness... in short, as much information about me as possible." Feng Bujue replied quickly.

Before he could finish speaking, Doctor Yuan exhaled through his nose: "3232, the question-and-answer process for the regular checkup is determined by me... I ask, you answer, understand?"

After observing Doctor Yuan's expression, Feng Bujue thought for a moment, then replied, "For every piece of information about me that you tell me, I will answer one of your questions... how about it?"

"Are you bargaining with me?" Doctor Yuan's tone immediately became somewhat threatening.

"Doctor." Feng Bujue was not to be outdone. He looked directly into the other man's eyes and continued, "My current mental state... is very, very stable. I am confident... that this conversation can lead to a breakthrough in treatment."

"Heh..." Doctor Yuan replied with a smile that wasn't a smile. "Okay... you want to hear it, right? I won't play any one-question-for-one-question game with you. If you want to hear it, I'll tell you." He paused, took a deep breath, and said, "Your name is Feng Bujue, you are twenty-four years old this year. When you were ten years old, you were arrested by the police for a serious assault. After consultations and assessments by many experts... you were diagnosed with severe delusions, and you have obvious violent tendencies and antisocial personality disorder; therefore, you were sent here. In the past fourteen years, you have fantasized that you are a highly intelligent juvenile criminal, a novelist, a detective, a super-powered person... In short, your symptoms have not lessened at all in the past decade, on the contrary, they have become more and more severe... For example, in the regular checkups in recent months, you have started to explain a story called 'Thriller Paradise' to me, and you... are the protagonist of this story."