"Doctor, I think my dad's condition has gotten worse again!"
On the screen, a beautiful young girl had tears in her eyes. Her lips moved as though she were speaking.
By filling in the gaps and reading her lips, Zhang Ping roughly guessed what she was saying.
A doctor sat before the girl. He wore glasses, and his hair was impeccably groomed. He was writing something with his head lowered, only looking up after a while and muttering, "What did he write this time?"
"He hasn't written anything. It's just... lately, he keeps saying he saw God. He also thinks he's a painter and spends every day scribbling all over the house. He even says... says the paint must be wrong. And lately, the way he looks at me has been getting stranger and stranger." The more the girl spoke, the more frightened she became, and she could not help tightening her grip on her handbag.
The doctor comforted her, "Don't be afraid. Our hospital is the most reputable psychiatric hospital. Based on what you've said, your father's delusions have indeed worsened."
"What should we do?" the girl asked.
The doctor adjusted his glasses and said seriously, "Then discharge him. What if he really does have talent as a painter?"
Huh?
After reading the doctor's lips, a question mark immediately popped into Zhang Ping's mind.
Then the scene slowly shifted to the doctor's perspective. A messy notebook lay on his desk, filled with strange symbols and drawings.
Zhang Ping felt sick all over after just one glance, as though he wanted to vomit.
It was probably like eating steak and drinking wine, only for the steak to suddenly spoil and become covered in maggots, while the wine instantly took on the stench of swill.
"Something is wrong with these symbols