Chapter 46:
He Had Been Deceiving Me All Along
HE YU HAD INDEED gone insane.
Many days had passed since that night of horrors; he had, in fact, been discharged from the hospital some time ago, but he hadn’t told anyone, and he didn’t return to his house either.
Everyone seemed disgusting and fake to him now. He had an apartment in one of the newer districts of downtown Huzhou, one he hadn’t visited very often even after getting the keys. For now, he had chosen to live there by himself. He’d been deeply stricken when he saw those videos of Xie Qingcheng, but after returning to his senses, he refused to accept that Xie Qingcheng was a coward who was afraid of mentally ill patients.
At the hospital, once he’d calmed down a little, he wondered if he was the one who’d misunderstood—if the criminal organization had taken Xie Qingcheng’s past videos out of context because they had another motive. Xie Qingcheng was not that kind of person.
He Yu went home with that thought in mind, clinging to the last of his hope—he wanted to verify the facts for himself and didn’t want anyone to disturb him. But what he didn’t expect was for the things he dug up to be far crueler; the video he had seen was just the tip of the iceberg.
The truth was too terrifying. The more he investigated, the sicker he became.
The medicine intended to control his symptoms lay on the table, untouched after he had taken a few pills—because it had absolutely no effect. The results of his personal investigation destroyed his sense of self even further; some pills were no longer enough to control his downward spiral. It felt as if lichen had grown over his heart, as if all his senses had gone numb. He wanted to kill. He wanted to drink blood. Morality and legality suddenly felt utterly irrelevant.
During a flare-up of psychological Ebola, his very life seemed unimportant; he wasn’t afraid of death, so why would he fear society’s rules?
He Yu sat in a black armchair. His phone had rung countless times, all calls and texts from Xie Qingcheng, but he didn’t pick up or read any of them. He just stared at the white wall in front of him. It was about five meters high, so wide and tall it seemed like the massive screen in a movie theater. And right now, it was covered with densely packed projections of text messages.
This was everything from the past few years that he’d been able to recover from the cloud using illicit technology. Xie Qingcheng’s private messages—messages about He Yu.
He Yu was an elite hacker. He’d always been extremely talented in this field, but having the capability didn’t mean he would actually do certain things—just as there were many people in the world capable of committing murder, but few actually became killers. There was a clear boundary in He Yu’s heart, one he’d never crossed in the past. But it was only when he opened those dusty doors and stepped inside that he saw the kind of spectacle that lay within.
What he saw made his blood run cold. Even though too much time had passed and the recovered messages were incomplete, what he’d gathered was more than enough to shake him to his core.
Beginning with the earliest recovered content, he saw his father offering a high salary to Xie Qingcheng to treat He Yu. Xie Qingcheng had been rather reluctant at the beginning, saying that although Case #3 had already died, they had extremely violent tendencies before their death. Even though he was sympathetic to He Yu’s plight, he seriously had no wish to waste his time on a long-term engagement with a psychological Ebola patient.
Xie Qingcheng: Treating a patient like this won’t go anywhere, nor is it very meaningful. I want to use this time on more worthwhile tasks.
He Jiwei: He Yu is different. He’s still too young. He definitely won’t go the same way Case #3 did. I know you don’t find psychological Ebola uninteresting, Dr. Xie. On account of our past friendship, please at least come over for a chat and meet my son.
Xie Qingcheng: Executive He, I have more important things to do. And I can’t endorse the companionship treatment method that other doctors have suggested to you. Maintaining a long-term relationship with a doctor will result in the patient becoming reliant on them; when the time comes, forcibly ending the treatment will be like quitting a drug and will be more likely to trigger negative emotional backlash instead.
He Jiwei: But I have no other choice. Trying this is my last option. Dr. Xie, could you please at least meet with him once, for my sake?
Getting Xie Qingcheng to come had been so difficult, requiring countless pleas and appeals.
And as for the day he left?
The day he resigned, He Jiwei had sent him a message.
He Jiwei: Dr. Xie, you’ve still decided to quit.
Xie Qingcheng: Yes.
He Jiwei: If nothing else, there’s still human connection aside from the contract. You’ve always been very good to He Yu. Sometimes, you’d even argue with me on his behalf…
Xie Qingcheng: I would do the same for anyone. Because it is part of what I was paid to do.
He Jiwei: But He Yu has already developed a reliance upon you. You must know this.
Xie Qingcheng: I told Executive He at the very beginning that a long-term companionship style of treatment would have this kind of effect on the patient. To be honest, this was all within our expectations.
He Jiwei: To him, you’re different, Doctor Xie…
Xie Qingcheng: But to me, he’s the same as any other patient. There’s no difference whatsoever.
The conversation didn’t end here.
He Jiwei: Xie Qingcheng, if you’re so dead set on leaving, I can’t stop you. But we originally agreed on ten years for the contract; since it’s ending early, there are some remunerations I promised you that I won’t be able to honor entirely.
Xie Qingcheng: That’s fine, I don’t mind.
Once it got to that point, He Jiwei had more or less realized that anything he said to Xie Qingcheng would be useless.
After a long moment of silence, he switched his tone.
He Jiwei: Then think about how you’re going to tell him. You’re leaving so suddenly. At the very least, you have to come up with some way for him to accept it as quickly as possible.
In contrast, Xie Qingcheng’s response was surprisingly direct.
Xie Qingcheng: If Executive He has no objections, I plan to tell him that the contract was originally set for seven years. This will make him feel better. But I will also need your cooperation.
He Jiwei: Xie Qingcheng, is this matter really nonnegotiable? Did the Qin Ciyan matter shake you up so badly that you need to do things so finally?
Xie Qingcheng: Executive He, this isn’t a matter of finality. This is just a job.
Xie Qingcheng: I couldn’t possibly feel anything more, and I never have.
Xie Qingcheng: I must resign.
He Jiwei: You can’t wait till the end of the contract?
Xie Qingcheng: I can’t.
He Jiwei: Xie Qingcheng, your heart is truly colder than I had imagined.
Xie Qingcheng: For him, this is the kindest lie.
The city lights twinkled from beyond the window, and the massive billboards flashed at irregular intervals, spilling into He Yu’s living room like crystalline ripples, scouring away the countless messages projected onto the wall as if washing away the makeup that Xie Qingcheng had put on. It felt as though He Yu had finally seen Xie Qingcheng’s true face today.
The patience, equality, and acceptance with which he had treated him were all fake. It was a mechanical repetition, a performance of civility, all empty theory—carried out to appease and deceive him. Even the contract period he cited at their parting wasn’t true.