Chapter 215: [Blessed with Longevity and Fortune] Biding Her Time in the Shadows
“I can walk down by myself. Thank you, Doctor Qin. Sorry to trouble you.”
“Don’t mention it. Being able to assist my patients is my honor.”
Qin Fa and Bai Cha walked out together.
“Head straight downstairs for lunch. There’s another patient over here, so I won’t accompany you.”
Bai Cha nodded, a flicker of disappointment flashing through her eyes for a fleeting second.
Just as Qin Fa turned around, he paused and looked back.
“That rose was lovely. I liked it very much.”
A bright smile erupted across Bai Cha’s face instantly.
“I’m glad you liked it! Please go ahead with your work then—I won’t disturb you any longer. I’ll head down to eat first!”
She trotted toward the elevator with joyful steps, her entire back radiating clear delight.
Qin Fa retracted his gaze with cold indifference.
As expected, a young girl with pre-existing psychological issues is thoroughly uninteresting.
Inside the elevator, the corners of Bai Cha’s lips remained curved in a smile, her face appearing as though she were reminiscing about what had just transpired every now and then.
She was indeed putting her all into acting, holding zero mental space for anything else—her mental state was atrocious.
Upon waking moments ago, she had instinctively wanted to check her hand for an instant.
Because that heavy, aching pain still lingered across her hand—in truth, it was still there right now.
Yet if one underwent long-term IV transfusions, a similar sensation would manifest as well.
Which meant that on the surface, at least, everything appeared completely normal.
Under the influx of memories, compounded by the effects of that “soothing incense” at the time, her mind remained trapped in a state of exhaustion, making it exceptionally easy to lower her guard.
Had she failed to maintain control, the other party would have realized that she was currently the “alter personality.”
Because how could Li Yun possibly remember the Tai Sui? Only the “alter personality” would know.
Otherwise, it wouldn’t be completely absent from Li Yun’s memories inside her mind.
And had she been exposed, they wouldn’t have permitted her to depart so easily.
Furthermore, it was impossible for the alter personality to fall for Qin Fa, given that the man intended to kill “her.”
To summarize, she had to keep up the act, taking countless factors into consideration.
Returning to her room, a nurse had already set a prepared meal box on her table.
One of the thoughtful aspects of this nursing home was that meals were delivered directly into the hands of the patients; if a patient found it inconvenient to eat, the nurses would even assist in feeding them.
Li Xiang was asleep.
Looking as though she had been injected with a sleeping drug.
Her slumber was visibly restless—her brows remained tightly knitted, her body twitching every now and then, while her eyes rolled beneath her eyelids, perhaps trapped in a nightmare.
While eating her meal box, Bai Cha cast a glance toward He Yan over on the other side.
He Yan had laid down as well, perhaps unable to drift off immediately, leaving her eyes half-open.
With surveillance cameras mounted inside the room, Bai Cha couldn’t easily communicate with her.
Finishing her meal, she stepped out to throw away the lunchbox, taking a trip to the restroom while she was at it.
There, she bumped into another female player inside the restroom—Chang Yashi.
The two exchanged a highly cautious glance with one another.
The restroom consisted of individual stalls, some of which were closed; no one could guarantee whether a nurse might be inside one.
The current situation felt quite stifling—up until now, this instance revolved primarily around this form of surveillance.
After all, the goal was to escape the nursing home.
They had to find an opportunity to uncover the secrets of the nursing home first before learning how to escape.
Neither initiated a conversation.
Yet as they brushed past each other, Bai Cha slapped a small item into her palm.
Chang Yashi entered a stall without a trace.
It was a word woven out of dodder vines: Tai S.
Tai S… Tai Sui?
Chang Yashi tossed the dodder vine into the toilet and flushed it away.
When she stepped out, Bai Cha emerged as well.
They washed their hands side by side at the sink in silence.
A mirror hung above the washbasin; her reflection inside was indeed still that of Li Yun.
In truth, up until now, certain aspects differed from the situation in the previous Gold Medal Salesperson instance.
For example, the phenomenon of two Li Yuns appearing in different places simultaneously.
Supposing there truly was no second Li Yun or impersonator, could it be a space-time overlap effect caused by the interaction of two instances?
If so, it might involve the game itself.
This could be an overlap between instances, but who was that person inside the mirror back then?
Perhaps the real Li Yun?
Hard to confirm—the entities inside mirrors seemed capable of mimicking people outside, much like the female ghost encountered in her very first instance.
When inside the mirror, she matched the person looking into it perfectly.
Then there was Li Qunfang.
Based on her own condition, she was certain she wasn’t suffering from dissociative identity disorder, but merely possessed additional memories belonging to Li Yun.
So for Li Yun, did she truly suffer from dissociative identity disorder as well?
Was it genuine dissociative identity disorder, or was it brought about by the Gold Medal Salesperson instance?
Players entering that instance were assigned an NPC identity complete with memories.
Though the physical bodies seemed to belong to the players themselves, what about the original NPCs?
Under such a premise, it meant Li Yun still existed at the time, giving rise to a trajectory that diverged from the previous instance’s character setup—which would explain everything.
From the perspective of the real Li Yun, it felt as though an extra person had lived in her home, with contradictory records surfacing on her phone while she herself held zero memory of those actions.
So aside from suspecting a thief or supernatural entities, suspecting psychological issues was a natural conclusion.
As for Li Qunfang, though…
Supernatural entities definitely existed—had Li Qunfang transformed into a ghost?
Where was she right now, then?
Bai Cha washed her face, examining her hands once more.
Zero anomalies were visible.
Sensing the location of the Dodder Vine, one lay above—likely with Qin Fa.
Wait… hold on…
Why did it feel like it was everywhere?
Bai Cha walked back toward her room while sensing the connections.
It felt as though dodder vines were present in all directions, almost as if they had fractured and spread to every corner.
Bai Cha paid close, deliberate attention, discovering that the surrounding doctors and nurses all seemed to carry the resonance of the dodder vine.
Because they were moving about, the dodder vines moved along with them.
At the same time, resonances existed in distant areas outside as well.
It appeared the distribution of this Tai Sui covered a remarkably broad range—and furthermore, the Tai Sui entities were interconnected with one another.
Otherwise, it couldn’t possibly manifest like this.
There was another treatment session scheduled for the afternoon.
She shouldn’t face mortal peril today, but she could gauge her mental state to estimate the remaining time—she had to escape this nursing home within three days.
Otherwise, three days later, Bai Cha couldn’t guarantee with confidence that she would still remember her own name was Bai Cha.
She sat back on her hospital bed, and Nurse Lin Hong stepped inside soon after.
“Li Yun, time for your IV.”
The memory implantation held distinct benefits indeed—at the very least, many things didn’t require Bai Cha to investigate and test blindly, allowing her to roleplay Li Yun far better without being exposed.
Suffice it to say that although the game was a dog, and the rewards it granted were laced with poison, they were genuinely useful.
The current IV transfusions took place twice daily—once at noon and once in the evening. Supposedly, because her mental state was left exhausted after every treatment session, the IV contained sedative components alongside nutrients and energy.
Because physical health directly dictated psychological well-being.
Sufficient sleep and nutrition were deemed essential.
When she first began treatment, she had to undergo four IV bottles daily, which had now been reduced to just two.
Bai Cha extended her arm in full cooperation.
Lin Hong inserted the needle with practiced skill; though she appeared remarkably young—likely only in her early twenties—her professional capability was exceptional.
Placing Bai Cha’s hand atop the blanket, she said, “Take a afternoon nap. I’ll come check on the IV bottle over here.”
Bai Cha nodded and closed her eyes.
Inside her body, beneath the surface of her skin where no outsider’s eyes could see, a slender dodder vine wrapped securely around the needle, quietly absorbing the medicinal liquid inside the IV bottle.
