Meanwhile, Cheng Xin went up to the Fifth Floor and knocked twice on the director's office door. Only after waiting two minutes without a response did he push it open.
The first thing he saw inside was an expensive-looking rosewood desk, followed by a bookshelf that covered an entire wall, filled entirely with medical books. Two striking silk banners hung symmetrically on the wall facing the door:
One read, "Saving lives and healing the wounded."
The other read, "Boundless merit."
Cheng Xin clicked his tongue disdainfully and strode straight over to the rosewood desk. He rummaged through everything on its surface and in its drawers, but found nothing except medical documents he couldn't understand. There wasn't even a trace of the access card.
Cheng Xin turned his gaze toward the enormous bookshelf, then quickly abandoned the idea of searching it. There were simply too many books; he would never have time to go through them all.
That left the rest room.
Cheng Xin immediately pulled open the rest room door, then swore under his breath.
"Fuck."
The room certainly qualified as a rest room, with a large, soft, comfortable bed in its center. But the four walls surrounding that bed-were covered in slices of brain.
Some were immersed in liquid inside transparent containers, while others had been dried and dehydrated, then hung directly on the walls. The brains had been cut in different ways, too: some were horizontal sections, others vertical, and there were even diagonal sections that looked as though they had been made on a whim...
The thought of the director sleeping among these things every night gave Cheng Xin goosebumps.
Frowning, he walked over to the bed in the middle of the room. Even after searching it thoroughly, he still found no access card.
*Could it really