Chapter 211: [Blessed with Longevity] Core and Alter Personalities
After learning of Li Yun’s situation, the doctor had subjected her to hypnosis.
When Li Yun awoke, she was informed that she suffered from dissociative identity disorder.
Due to the trauma she experienced growing up, her mind had fractured to create an alter personality named Bai Cha.
An alter who, despite losing her parents early in childhood, had been loved deeply by them; who was never adopted by strangers after their passing, but raised instead by a guardian aunt; who suffered from frail health, yet lived a happy, fulfilling life.
It all sounded so utterly bizarre, yet somehow so perfectly logical.
The doctor told her that she craved parental affection and genuine love, yet feared her “mother’s” abuse and feared her “father’s” boundary violations—which was precisely why such an alter personality had been spawned.
Having biological parents was her heartfelt wish.
Her parents dying early reflected her desire to remain frozen at the exact time she was first adopted by her primary adoptive parents.
Having an aunt who treated her like a biological daughter, alongside a quiet yet kind-hearted uncle, reflected her wish that even without parents, she could still possess family affection as if they were her true mother and father.
While her core personality frequently suffered abuse and bore physical scars, it manifested in the alter personality as a frail body that frequently fell ill for no apparent reason.
And her aunt would always care for her with gentle, thoughtful devotion—which directly mirrored her core personality’s memory of Li Qunfang returning to her gentle, angelic self whenever she regained consciousness after a beating.
She held zero friends during childhood; because she suffered through these traumas, opening her heart to make friends proved immensely difficult, which was why the alter personality generated a younger female cousin as well—a cousin merely three years younger, who had adored her, followed her around, and kept her company since childhood.
In fact, the chaotic mess of memories churning inside Bai Cha’s head right now formed its very own self-consistent logic.
Because of psychological trauma, that alter personality named Bai Cha had even convinced herself that she had entered a terrifying horror game.
In truth, what she called a horror game was merely her mind reliving the hideous ugly sides of human nature she had encountered throughout her life.
All of it was false; Li Yun alone was real.
Through treatment, Li Yun had already retrieved the memories of her alter personality. Strictly speaking, the two personalities were currently undergoing a process of fusion; next, she simply needed to correct her memories, and she would be fully cured.
Bai Cha shook her head, reminding herself once more that her name was Bai Cha, that this was merely a game, and that the extra memories of Li Yun inside her brain were the false ones.
She rubbed her face; the dizzying sensation inside her head made clear thinking inherently difficult to begin with.
Right now, she truly felt a profound sense of mental chaos.
For the time being, however, she could barely manage to maintain her sanity.
This instance was far more difficult than she had anticipated.
This gift from the damn game was a massive, terrifying gift indeed.
With her level of acting skills, she didn’t need these redundant, uncalled-for memories in the first place!
This was directly equivalent to spiking the difficulty level on her right at the very start.
Sitting on the bed, Bai Cha made a focused effort to recall the hints provided for this instance.
The instance was named Fortune and Longevity Created by Heaven.
The hint was tied to lifespan as well.
Coupled with the forum post she had read prior to entering the game, if the nursing home indeed wasn’t as clean as it appeared on the surface, and was secretly utilizing these young people to research some kind of drug behind closed doors…
Then that would indeed make complete sense—every single person admitted here suffered from a psychiatric disorder.
If they tried to speak out, virtually no one would believe a word they said.
Furthermore, Li Yun was completely alone now, meaning even fewer people would ever care about her—oh, wait, that wasn’t entirely true either; she still owed over a hundred thousand yuan in debt.
Surely someone would still care about that part at least.
In all likelihood, however, those relatives would probably just wait for her to die before selling her apartment to recoup the money owed to them.
In any case, relying on outsiders was entirely out of the question.
She possessed a basic understanding of the two patients occupying the beds on either side of her room as well.
One was named He Yan, and the other was named Li Xiang.
He Yan primarily suffered from severe bipolar disorder; in truth, she had been taking medication back home for four or five years intermittently, yet her condition never improved, leaving her family physically and mentally exhausted.
Typically, for patients suffering from bipolar disorder, if family members failed to maintain an emotionally stable environment, it proved exceptionally detrimental to the patient’s well-being.
When He Yan made yet another failed suicide attempt, her family sent her straight to this nursing home.
Her family simply couldn’t bring themselves to commit her to a psychiatric hospital, which was why they sent her here instead—after all, a nursing home and a psychiatric hospital sounded entirely different to the ear.
Supposedly, however, because the root cause of He Yan’s illness lay with her parents to begin with, her parents rarely ever came to visit.
He Yan’s condition remained perpetually neither good nor terrible.
Surveillance cameras were installed inside the room—or rather, surveillance cameras were mounted everywhere throughout the entire ward building.
The moment she displayed any suicidal inclinations, she would be forcibly injected with sedatives.
Due to long-term medication use, she had already turned quite dull and slow-witted.
Li Xiang, on the other hand, suffered from persecution paranoia.
She constantly felt a person was standing right beside her, staring at her, ready to murder her at any given moment.
At this very moment, sunlight poured in through the windows; the natural lighting here was exceptionally fine, rendering the overall environment warm and cozy.
This was precisely why Xingfu Nursing Home maintained a stellar reputation—the moment family members caught sight of an environment like this, they instinctively felt a sense of comfort.
Li Xiang typically curled herself into a tight ball, wrapping her arms around her knees without ever raising her head, her mouth continuously muttering unintelligible gibberish every now and then.
He Yan, meanwhile, simply sat there staring off into space.
Bai Cha gathered from her memories that her usual state was considered relatively active, though due to long-term psychological issues, she remained a rather withdrawn person overall.
The hospital room had been deathly quiet all along.
After a moment’s thought, Bai Cha stood up and slipped on a pair of slippers.
She wore a soft, white pair of pajamas.
The nursing home prioritized comfort, coziess, and happiness.
They did everything possible to prevent people who came here from feeling like patients, encouraging them to adopt a positive mindset from a psychological level.
Consequently, the hospital attire didn’t utilize traditional patient uniforms, opting instead for these soft-textured cotton pajamas.
The door to the hospital room wasn’t locked either; Bai Cha walked out, finding a few patients strolling along the corridor.
Catching sight of her stepping out, a nurse immediately trotted over.
“Li Yun, right? How are you feeling today? Why did you come out all of a sudden?”
It was currently nine o’clock in the morning; because patients took medication every night, most would sleep until at least seven or eight o’clock.
Likewise, owing to the effects of the medication, even after waking up, they would often drift back to sleep very quickly, or require a long time to regain clear consciousness.
However, the hospital uniformly called them to wake up for breakfast at 8:00 AM.
If certain patients sank into deep slumber and struggled to wake, nurses would forcibly feed them their meals.
Bai Cha cast a glance at her, taking note of the name printed on her ID badge.
Lin Hong.
“Pretty good. My body just feels a bit stiff, heavy, and tired, so I wanted to come out for a walk to stretch a little.”
The nurse nodded continuously, yet her eyes never strayed from Bai Cha’s face for even a second.
She fixated her gaze intensely on Bai Cha, ultimately finding zero flaws; she nodded, offering a standardized smile.
“Of course, light exercise helps with your psychological recovery too. You can go downstairs for a stroll—getting more sunshine is good for you as well.”
This place looked every bit like a normal nursing home on the surface.
Perhaps their methods of handling patients weren’t particularly gentle at times, yet everything fell within standard regulations, while seemingly brimming with human care at the same time.
This building covered a considerable area; Bai Cha walked along with slow steps, as her head was indeed somewhat dizzy.
The peripheral vision of her eyes swept across surrounding patients or the windows of hospital rooms every now and then.
Familiar faces were present.
Yet no one displayed much expression.
For one thing, it wasn’t the time for reunions; for another, with Bai Cha’s own state being what it was, the others were unlikely to be in much better shape.
Reaching the elevator, Bai Cha pressed the down button.
This was the sixth floor.
Arriving at the first floor, Bai Cha walked out of the main hall and stepped onto the lawn out front.
The sunlight was indeed warm, and the lawn consisted of real grass, wafting a fresh, green fragrance.
Bai Cha caught sight of a young child.
Did the patients admitted to this nursing home include children as well?
