Chapter Forty-Seven: Yuan Xiaobai

It was an old Western-style house, complete with a courtyard and a surrounding wall. The wall was covered in climbing vines, dotted with clusters of tiny white flowers. A pair of iron gates had been painted a bright red, and outside the gates was an electric button. The three-story mansion, with its red bricks and black tiles, stood quietly in the heart of the city, yet it seemed especially serene.

We rang the bell, and after a moment, someone appeared—a middle-aged man in a black suit, his hair streaked with gray. His attire was impeccably tailored, clearly the work of a skilled craftsman who had fashioned it to his precise measurements. He regarded us as we did him, and in his eyes, I caught a flicker of complicated emotion, though his face was marked with the calm composure of one who had weathered many storms.

“Who are you looking for?” he asked.

“Hello, sir. We’re friends of Yuan Xiaobai. Does she live here by any chance?”

He hesitated, then asked, “What kind of friends? You don’t look familiar. I haven’t seen you before.”

Fatty rummaged through his bag and produced a small notebook, inside which was a photograph—a group shot taken the year we parted ways after leaving Wildman Village. He handed it to the man, saying, “We were sent down to the northeast as educated youth together. See, here’s our photo.”

The man squinted at the picture before returning it, “She mentioned you before. Back then, she was grateful for your help. But unfortunately, Xiaobai isn’t home right now.”

Fatty awkwardly took back the photo. “Ah? That’s really unlucky.”

The man glanced at his watch and said, “Perhaps you don’t know yet. If you have time, come with me to see her. If she knows old friends have come, maybe she’ll be a little happier.”

“We have time. Sir, may I ask who you are?” I inquired.

“I’m her father. Just wait here; I’ll arrange for a car.” He turned and walked back into the courtyard, and I noticed, for the first time, that he walked with a slight limp—something was clearly wrong with his leg.

Soon, the main gates swung open, and a sleek black imported car rolled out. Her father sat in the back, a thermos by his side. I could almost smell the scent of chicken soup.

As the car drove on, I saw bustling crowds ahead, many in white coats and surgical masks. Two prominent characters marked the entrance: “Hospital.” A sense of foreboding crept into my heart—had something happened to Yuan Xiaobai?

On the fourth floor, we passed through an iron gate manned by a guard—the first time I’d seen such security in a hospital. Yuan Xiaobai’s father handed the guard a slip of paper, and as we entered, the door closed behind us again. In the corridor, several large characters were posted: Special Ward for Mental Disorders – Unauthorized Entry Prohibited! My heart skipped a beat.

Another green iron gate awaited. A man holding an electric baton greeted Yuan Xiaobai’s father warmly. There were two padlocks on the door; opening it required another attendant’s assistance. Once the door swung open, a cacophony of cries, laughter, and inexplicable noises greeted us.

Room 414. At the door, a bespectacled doctor was already waiting. Yuan Xiaobai’s father drew him aside, speaking in low tones, while the doctor shook his head repeatedly. Fatty and I exchanged troubled glances; we both understood what this place meant. A few minutes later, her father returned, head bowed, accompanied by the doctor.

The doctor pointed at us. “Mr. Yuan, are these your daughter’s friends?”

Her father nodded. “They came from far away, helped Xiaobai many times back then. Dr. Tang, there shouldn’t be a problem, right?”

Dr. Tang addressed us, “When you go in, don’t agitate the patient, and don’t speak loudly. If she attacks you, don’t retaliate. I’ll be right beside you. Also, she’s sensitive to bright light, so the room will stay dim.”

The door to the ward was sheathed in iron, secured by two padlocks—one key with Dr. Tang, the other with a nurse. Both keys were needed to enter; it felt more secure than a prison for hardened criminals.

Just as Dr. Tang described, the room beyond was pitch black. I couldn’t see a thing. The only sound was heavy, labored breathing, as if someone’s throat were being gripped.

“Xiaobai, it’s me, your father. Don’t be afraid. Can I turn on the light?” he asked softly.

A faint click, and the room filled with a dim glow—barely brighter than candlelight, just enough to make out the floor. In the corner, someone huddled on a cot, wrapped tightly in a quilt, trembling uncontrollably.

Was that Yuan Xiaobai? I could hardly believe my eyes. Her hair was a tangled mess, her head swaying slightly from side to side, arms crossed tight around herself, face buried in her knees.

Her father approached with the chicken soup, setting it carefully on the small table beside her, pouring it into a plastic bowl and speaking gently, “Come on, be good. Open your mouth, have a sip.”

Suddenly, with a loud smack, she swept the bowl away, spilling the soup all over the floor.

She began grabbing whatever was within reach—pillow, blanket—and hurled them, shouting, “Don’t feed me the soup of oblivion! Don’t try to harm me! You’re a ghost! Go away! Help! Somebody help!”

Her father endured her blows and curses in silence, quietly crouching to clean up the mess.

“Better let you try—maybe you can get her to eat,” he said, handing the bowl to the nurse, then turning to us. “You’re her friends. See if she recognizes you.”

Fatty and I had never imagined Yuan Xiaobai would end up like this. When we parted, she had been such a lovely girl. Before we could even approach, she began to laugh hysterically, “Ha! You two little ghosts can’t take me away. I’m not going with you. Give up!”

Afraid to get too close, I kept an arm’s length away and asked, “Xiaobai? It’s me, Xia Yi, and this is Fatty—General Shi! Remember Wildman Village?”

“Black and White Impermanence? Help! Someone!” She screamed again, and in a moment, she leapt from the cot, fell to her knees before us, and sobbed, “Please, great immortals, have mercy. My father is all alone, he really needs me. I don’t want to die so soon, please, please have pity!”

“Xiaobai, look carefully. It’s us, I’m Fatty!”

“Ah? You’re Pigsy? Where’s Monkey King? Tell Monkey King to come out and fight the monsters—there are ghosts here.” She looked around nervously. “Look, over there—a child in blue, holding a knife, covered in blood. Ah! He’s coming toward me—help!” She scrambled back onto the cot, pulled the quilt over herself, and trembled inside.

When we left the ward, her father’s eyes were bloodshot. He led us to the doctor’s office, where the doctor said, “Mr. Yuan, your daughter’s condition can only be maintained for now, but I’m afraid if this continues, she won’t last more than a month. All her physical indicators are deteriorating…”

“Do whatever it takes. Spare no expense!”

“It’s not that we don’t want to help—specialists from the Beijing team were here just two days ago, the best in the country, but they were at a loss. We can’t even determine the cause. Generally, psychiatric illnesses are either due to neurological disorders or severe trauma, but we’ve ruled out both.”

Her father’s face was ashen, his fists clenched so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The doctor continued, “My mentor, Dr. Karen, will be here this afternoon. He was giving an international lecture in Shanghai yesterday and promised to come by. He’s the world’s foremost authority on psychiatric disorders—this may be our last hope.”

“As long as she can be cured, I’ll agree to any conditions.”

“I know you are a patriotic entrepreneur and a leader of the Shanghai Chamber of Commerce. Treating the family of a pillar of our nation is both my duty and my honor. Dr. Karen has already reviewed Miss Yuan’s case, which I faxed him. He’ll be here this afternoon.”

“I’ll wait.”

“So will we,” Fatty and I said in unison.

At one o’clock, the office phone rang. Dr. Tang called out excitedly, “He’s here!”

Ten minutes later, in Yuan Xiaobai’s ward, the world-renowned psychiatric expert came running out, his face scratched and bleeding, looking utterly disheveled. “Tang, I can do nothing for this patient. The family should prepare for the worst…”