Treatment

"Tap."

"Tap."

"Tap."

The sharp clicks of high heels echoed through the empty corridor. A pretty girl with delicate features walked quickly, a hint of anxiety barely visible on her face.

At the end of the corridor stood a wooden door. It was old-fashioned, its surface mottled, with traces of pale green paint still clinging to it.

Without knocking, the girl pushed the door straight open and walked in. In the room, decorated in the style of the last century, sat an old man with graying hair. The moment she saw him, her eyes reddened, and her voice trembled. "Uncle Gong..."

In the few days since she had last seen him, Gong Zhe had aged considerably. His eyes were sunken, and his skin had an unnatural pallor, as if all the blood had been drained from him. "You're here, kid," Gong Zhe said with a smile.

He struggled to sit up in bed, but failed and fell back down. Xia Meng hurried over to support him, picked up a pillow, and helped him sit up and lean against it.

Seeing Xia Meng force herself not to cry, Gong Zhe reached out and stroked her head. "Don't cry, kid. I know my own body. I can hold on for a few more years, no problem," he said gently.

Xia Meng gritted her teeth. "It's all those people's fault. If they hadn't begged you to step in, Uncle Gong, you wouldn't have ended up like this."

At that, Gong Zhe shook his head and glanced toward the desk in the distance. Xia Meng understood: Uncle Gong was telling her to be careful what she said. There were listening devices in the room.

The people in charge had always been wary of people like them. After all, the moment they took a Door