Zhao Pengcheng was sentenced to death with a two-year reprieve. He was a serious offender, unlike ordinary prisoners. He always wore shackles on his feet, whether he was working, sleeping, or using the toilet. The shackles were welded in place, very heavy, and made walking extremely inconvenient. His ankles would ache after walking for a short while. His cellmates were all serious offenders, and they said that everyone was like this at first, but they got used to it after a while.
When Qingmu saw Zhao Pengcheng again, he was dragging his shackles into the meeting room with a clanking sound.
Zhao Pengcheng was surprised that it was Qingmu who came to see him. Of course he recognized him; Qingmu's appearance was so distinctive and memorable that you would never forget him after just one glance. Besides, it was this guy who had hypnotized him into revealing Old Yu. If it weren't for that, Old Yu wouldn't have gone to jail.
His gaze toward Qingmu was filled with wariness and a barely perceptible hatred.
Qingmu felt that Zhao Pengcheng still had a sliver of humanity left, and wasn't entirely an alien; otherwise, why would he hate him? He hadn't done anything to Zhao Pengcheng. Even without that interrogation, Zhao Pengcheng's crimes were already clear, and he would have been sentenced, perhaps even without probation. On the contrary, Qingmu's interrogation helped him secure a probation, albeit by betraying Yu Jianguo.
But he was merely an alien who inherited the memories of the former Zhao Pengcheng, a "human" whose desires for love and sex had faded. How could he possibly still harbor feelings for the Yu Jianguo?
Qingmu couldn't help but doubt whether his judgment was wrong. But analyzing all the known information together, it was enough to show that Zhao Pengcheng was either an alien or had been bribed by aliens. But upon closer examination, the latter was also impossible. Bribery must have conditions, nothing more than coercion and inducement, but Zhao Pengcheng neither took money nor gained any other benefits, and even got himself imprisoned, probably never to get out. His only relative was his accomplice Yu Jianguo, so the threat theory was also invalid.
Zhao Pengcheng didn't enjoy a family meal like Yu Jianguo did, because Qingmu didn't believe a family meal could have any effect on an alien. He decided to cut to the chase and communicate directly with Zhao Pengcheng's subconscious, that is, directly with the alien, rather than with the shackled puppet in front of him.
Zhao Pengcheng's consciousness looked exactly like him; there was no indication that he was an alien. Qingmu knew, of course, that this alien consciousness had grown alongside Zhao Pengcheng's original consciousness. It had taken over the management of Zhao Pengcheng's brain and inherited all of Zhao Pengcheng's memories, so it looked just like Zhao Pengcheng himself. But there must be differences between them; it just hadn't been discovered yet.
This is a scene from a hospital. Zhao Pengcheng, wearing a white coat, walks briskly down the hospital corridor, making a clattering sound. That's the sound of his shackles dragging on the floor. The immense pain those shackles inflicted on him is probably too deeply etched in his memory, because even in his dream, he carries them with him back in the hospital.
Zhao Pengcheng walked through the corridor, pushed open the operating room door, and rushed in with the Tushu. While changing his shoes, he tried to unlock the shackles on his feet, but failed. After changing his shoes, he went into the changing room, took off his watch, washed his hands, changed his clothes and mask, and then rushed into the operating area.
A patient covered in blood lay on the operating table. The nurses and assistants who had been waiting there were busily connecting various instruments to the patient. When the doctor entered, they were busy reporting the patient's condition to him.
Zhao Pengcheng, scalpel in hand, sliced into the patient's skull without a second thought. A nurse nearby gasped in surprise, and at the same time, the operating room door slammed open.
Zhao Pengcheng heard the clattering footsteps, echoing unsettlingly like those in a vast, silent underground palace. But he didn't move; his hand holding the scalpel was as steady as a statue. The footsteps continued, and his scalpel moved inch by inch, as if calculated by a computer, with not a single flaw.
Why is brain surgery necessary?
Zhao Pengcheng heard someone ask behind him.
He didn't answer, continuing his surgery with meticulous care. No matter what happens, surgery must not be interrupted; this is a fundamental quality a doctor should possess. Those battlefield doctors, amidst the roar of artillery and hail of bullets, could complete their surgeries with unwavering focus; how much more so now, with just someone to talk to?
But what the person behind him said next made it impossible for him to continue.
"Is it the Gray Brain Virus?" the man said.
"What Gray Brain Virus?" Zhao Pengcheng paused, his scalpel still in his hand, and asked in surprise.
"Under specific frequency stimuli, Toxoplasma gondii performs Dance of Death, releasing Gray Brain Virus that aggregates in an orderly fashion, like an ant colony, on the gray matter of the brain, causing brain cells to slowly die. Over time, the person will become a vegetable, because the Gray Brain Virus does not affect the brainstem. If I'm not mistaken, your own brain has also been partially affected, hasn't it?"
"What nonsense are you talking about? This is an operating room. Please leave and don't interfere with my treatment."
"You're not saving lives, you're killing people!"
Zhao Pengcheng's hand trembled slightly. He turned around and squinted at the familiar face before him.
"I know you," he said.
Qingmu narrowed his eyes. "Is that so?"
Zhao Pengcheng said, "I'm dreaming right now, and you're in my dream. I can't lie to you, can I? Because the subconscious doesn't lie. Last time, you got me to confess about Old Yu, right? Your hypnosis is indeed very powerful, but you can't fool me this time because I'm awake. I know I'm dreaming; this kind of dream is called lucid dreaming."
"How... did you wake up?" Qingmu, a little curious.
Zhao Pengcheng laughed heartily, "Don't forget, I'm a doctor. I understand the brain and nervous system better than you do. I also understand lucid dreaming. Ever since you hypnotized me last time, I've been specifically researching it."
Qingmu said, "So what exactly are you trying to say?"
"I want to tell you, don't try that, it won't work!" Zhao Pengcheng's eyes were bloodshot, as if he had been working on the operating table for more than ten hours straight.
With a soft drip, a drop of blood fell from the scalpel. It was unclear whether it was from the patient or from someone who had cut their hand in their excitement.
"You can't fool me anymore, you can't get any more information out of me," he roared.
"Is that so?" Qingmu took two steps toward him. "But... what information do you still have to hide?"
Zhao Pengcheng was stunned for a moment. "I... I didn't."
"You do!" Qingmu shouted, "What you just said has already given you away..."