The good news: there really was a little note.
The bad news: the little note was not even meant for him.
So there really had been no one? Just as expected, this sanatorium was quite the marvelous place.
Unyielding Man looked utterly serious, as though he were reading from a script word by word. He really did not seem to be joking.
And once Fu Qian understood what he meant, he could not help but sigh inwardly.
Sure enough, he had not gone mad and been playing a single-player game in his own head all this time. The director had truly been there from the beginning.
That note, which looked as though it had been torn from the exact same notebook as the one he had received at the start, was enough to prove it.
Clearly, much like his own situation at the time, it contained certain crucial plot twists.
As for Unyielding Man himself, aside from being an internist and the night guard, he apparently had a third identity after all: the director's personal actor.
Once Fu Qian had taken the initiative to start setting the pace, twists had come one after another. Ordinary actors clearly could not keep up with the scene anymore, leaving them no choice but to send this man out to improvise on the spot.
It was actually quite a coherent line of logic, and precisely represented the "operational boundaries" Fu Qian wanted to explore.
As he had said before, the odds of rendering the director helpless through constant erratic shifts alone were actually quite low.
The most likely response would simply be increasingly clumsy contrivances, or even crude, forced plot kills.
And the process of that change would neatly outline the director's degree of control over this place.
Put simply, it would expose exactly