Chapter 220: [Blessed with Longevity] Patient Case Files
That line of small text read: The effects of the Tai Sui are gradually becoming less pronounced, requiring larger doses to sustain life.
When administering it to patients in the future, extreme caution must be exercised to increase the dosage incrementally, though a massive number of test samples will still be required.
At the very bottom of the file was a stamped mark reading: DECEASED.
A timestamp hung in the bottom right corner: February 1, 2014.
Flipping to the next case file, she found records for Tai Sui cultivation cases.
Name: Kang Qiao.
Date of Birth: October 11, 1992.
Treatment: Hereditary psychiatric disorder; early loss of parents. Psychiatric illness fully triggered following grandfather’s death, developing schizophrenia. Physical health relatively sound, brought in for Tai Sui cultivation. Cultivated a total of 16 catties of Tai Sui, extending lifespan by 16 years in total.
Small text: The effects of the cultivated Tai Sui are inferior to the original main body, but the main body is far too small. A way must be found to seek out more hosts.
A DECEASED stamp lay below this entry as well, also dated 2014.
As she flipped further, the number of case files for Tai Sui cultivation vastly outnumbered those for patients receiving Tai Sui treatment.
Which was only natural.
According to the records, the technology surrounding Tai Sui cultivation had steadily advanced, eventually reaching a point where they could gradually cultivate “age-reversing” Tai Sui to the maximum extent based on the age and health of different patients.
Then, Bai Cha flipped to Qin Fa’s file.
Name: Qin Fa.
Date of Birth: March 29, 1890.
Bai Cha raised an eyebrow.
Ho, he’s that old?
Qin Fa was exceptionally cautious with his own treatments, perhaps because he had always utilized the main body.
He didn’t consume excessive amounts of Tai Sui at once, currently maintaining an appearance of around twenty-seven or twenty-eight years old, while claiming to be in his thirties to the outside world.
However, according to his own notes, this was partly because he made a deliberate effort to groom his appearance daily.
Coupled with the fact that he had lived to such an advanced age, he carried a uniquely mature aura that outsiders didn’t find strange, assuming he simply took exceptional care of his health.
Yet according to his self-administered examinations, his physical body currently was equivalent to a young man around eighteen years old.
I must find a way to delay becoming excessively young. I must keep the Tai Sui under control. I can now gradually manage the reproduction of the Tai Sui; next, I need to see how I can maintain my current appearance without further changes.
Ghosts and gods exist in this world. Those entangled by ghosts often develop varying degrees of psychiatric disorders that ordinary methods cannot cure. The Tai Sui obtained from their bodies also appears far milder than ordinary Tai Sui.
I need more people like this!
Bai Cha flipped further until she arrived at her own name.
No, Li Yun’s name.
In the treatment column for Li Yun, the following paragraph was written:
She is very interesting. She seems somewhat out of place with this world, often being replaced by certain individuals. I have observed these people—they are not a single person. I considered whether they might be alternate personalities, but that doesn’t seem to be the case. Could those replacing her all be ghosts?
If so, why do these ghosts choose her? What is unique about her? Is her background far too tragic? Yet others are equally tragic.
Below was a red-underlined annotation:
She has successfully entered the nursing home. For now, I haven’t discovered anything more unique about her compared to other patients, but I have simultaneously found more similar patients.
They all look very much as if an extra personality has been spawned—an entirely different life. For some, the life of their alter personality is far from happy.
Yet uniquely, one can actually hear the word “game” from their mouths.
“Game”? A horror game… what is that?
Ever since they gained this additional memory, their two personalities have undergone a fusion.
How strange…
Yet even stranger, the Tai Sui has changed as well.
It has become very mild. After consumption, the dependency is far smaller than before.
So… why on earth is that?
Bai Cha stared at this paragraph, effortlessly sensing Qin Fa’s deep contemplation when he penned those words.
The date below was very fresh—right on the day before they entered the game.
It was an altered date, specifically circled by him.
Refraining from reading further, Bai Cha gently closed the file folder back up.
This instance…
This instance was a brand-new instance, so Qin Fa hadn’t held the opportunity to observe more samples yet.
If new players entered down the line… he would definitely be able to detect the shifts in personality.
Or rather, in terms of the game’s underlying design, every player who entered would become an alter personality to a specific NPC, yet NPCs weren’t supposed to notice, merely replacing names like Bai Cha with another person’s name.
Yet this Qin Fa seemed to actually know.
A special NPC.
Did the game know?
Bai Cha didn’t linger in the room any longer. However, before leaving—to prevent Qin Fa from noticing anything amiss upon his return, even though she had carefully inspected the area and spotted no other subtle clues—she decided it was better to drop a heavy surprise rather than risk leaving some unknown detail for him to discover.
Slipping on a face mask, just as her body vaulted out the window with only a tiny crack left, she whipped out a salted fish, using a Dodder Vine to sweep it into his room for a brief moment before stowing it straight back into her backpack.
To prevent any lingering odor on her person, she bought an odorless neutralizing spray from the shop to spritz herself.
Then she cast another glance at the stairwell entrance that remained open to this moment.
She didn’t head over.
Since this man was so special, who knew if he was fishing for trespassers?
She circled back to the front instead.
Having no idea how Meng Bian was faring, she walked to the front courtyard and cast a glance at the perimeter fence that was supposed to be overgrown with roses.
At this moment, beneath that fence, loops of black thread-like fibers floated gently in the air.
They weren’t very noticeable under the cover of night.
Bai Cha had only spotted them after carefully observing for a long time, having sensed the presence of Dodder Vines over there.
That appeared to be a certain form of the Tai Sui as well.
Just as she thought—if simply putting on an Invisibility Cloak allowed one to run away, this game wouldn’t be nearly as difficult.
In all likelihood, she still had to return to her ward room.
Bai Cha intended to continue observing inside the hospital before that, checking out the situation on every floor.
Her garments were suddenly tugged from behind.
Lowering her head, sure enough, it was that little black puppy.
It tilted its chin up at Bai Cha.
Bai Cha looked down at it thoughtfully.
Because it was a dog, it could smell her scent, couldn’t it?
Bending down, she scooped the dog up and tucked it beneath the Invisibility Cloak—who knew whether that fellow Qin Fa could see ghosts or not?
Even Li Xiang’s husband was terrified of Qin Fa, so Qin Fa definitely possessed some form of special power.
The little puppy uttered not a sound, curling up quietly in Bai Cha’s arms, as if simply wanting Bai Cha to bring it along.
Returning to the ward building, Bai Cha took a lap around the first floor.
The ward building of a nursing home differed from a regular hospital; this first floor primarily served as a rest area for medical staff.
The patient rooms only began from the second floor.
There were roughly ten patient rooms on each floor, but the numbering was thoroughly chaotic. The room numbers on every floor skipped around randomly—Room 3 might be directly adjacent to Room 18.
Furthermore, no one lived on the second to fourth floors at all.
