Jiangcheng's eastern suburbs, Seventh People's Hospital.
Among those born and raised in Jiangcheng in the eighties, plenty had heard that name. When they misbehaved as children, the adults would put on a stern face. "Keep it up, and I'll send you to Seventh Hospital."
They had been little then and had no idea what a psychiatric hospital looked like. Their imaginations supplied iron gates, barred windows, white coats, and screams. But hardly any of them had actually seen one.
Later, those children grew up and became parents themselves, and the threats they used on the next generation had long since changed.
"If you don't behave, I'm confiscating your phone."
Times were advancing, and children had become incredibly smart. Threats had to be tangible to work.
The white BMW came down off the overpass and drove along the East Suburb Expressway for another ten minutes or so. The trees on either side grew denser, the feel of the city faded, and the air took on the scent of vegetation.
Seventh People's Hospital stood amid a stretch of greenery. The building at the front was white, its glass windows polished clean and gleaming in the sunlight. The parking lot outside was neatly laid out, and several ginkgo trees cast broad patches of shade.
It was nothing like he had imagined.
It looked more like a sanatorium.
Wang Xiaoliang parked and switched off the engine, but did not get out right away.
Wei Zijin sat in the passenger seat, looking at him.
"Let's go."
Wang Xiaoliang murmured assent, pushed open the door, and got out.
They walked into the outpatient building, where the information desk stood straight ahead. A young woman wearing a mask sat behind it and glanced up at them.
"Hello, we're looking for an inpatient, Zhao Weiqiang."
The young woman