Chapter 7

Qi Cheng had used up all his courage to write that note.

It was the first time since his illness that he had taken the initiative, and what finally pushed him over the edge was that steaming bowl of wontons from that night.

The wontons were topped with seaweed, dried shrimp, and shredded egg. It wasn’t made with a rich broth, just a simple, ordinary bowl of wontons.

It was truly just a late-night snack Chi Zhihan had made for herself, without putting much effort into it, yet he drank every last drop of the soup.

He felt that this bowl of wontons had nothing to do with work. It was purely an extra bowl the neighbor had made.

To reciprocate, he thought he should tell her about the camera and audio recording functions.

So he carefully copied the words he had been pondering word by word for seven or eight days onto the daily menu.

When he handed it over, his whole body was drenched in cold sweat, as if he had just been pulled out of water.

He was very anxious. This wasn’t a pleasant matter. Anyone whose privacy had been violated would surely feel angry.

But Chi Zhihan wasn’t angry at all. After reading it, she even playfully made an “it’s okay” gesture toward the camera.

In the camera feed, her eyes curved in a smile, everything seeming normal. She didn’t even pause her chopping motions, as if completely accustomed to being watched by cameras.

In just ten days, this new chef seemed to have remarkable adaptability.

His expression suddenly froze as he stared at the monitor.

Then very slowly, he put down the pen he used for storyboarding, stood up, and walked straight into his studio. After closing the door, the empty space was left with only Chi Zhihan laughing like a fool on the monitor.

This continued all day, until the dinner delivery bell rang.

Qi Cheng stood up. His legs were numb from sitting in a crouched position for too long, making his walk awkward.

Opening the small window, he took the meal as usual, but unlike before, he didn’t open the food box to taste it. Recently, he had often abandoned the nutritious meals prepared by his family’s housekeeper, Auntie Liu, because the new chef’s dishes suited his taste so well.

Swaying slightly, he carried the food box and, passing by the trash can, tossed it directly in without even a second glance.

As darkness fell, the automatic light sensors his family had installed began turning on one by one. He walked slowly past them, pressing each one off.

Darkness returned.

Only the monitor remained lit, showing Chi Zhihan eating her dinner in the living room, with some unknown variety show playing on her iPad, its laughter exaggerated.

Qi Cheng smiled self-mockingly. He should have realized it sooner – how could anyone be that happy? Humming while washing vegetables, not showing any signs of fatigue despite not leaving the house for ten days, waking up on time every day, wearing bright, pastel-colored clothes.

And whenever she ate, she would always watch these variety shows with their over-the-top laughter.

She had known about the audio monitoring all along. During their ten days together, she was just like everyone else around him – all her actions were part of his treatment.

Treatment wasn’t a bad thing; he longed for redemption.

But for these past years, all his social interactions had been related to treatment.

Even this complete stranger had finally learned that living next door was a monster who never dared to go outside.

So that night when she asked if the food suited his taste, what was her mindset? Curiosity? Or genuine concern?

Something in his eyes gradually grew cold as Qi Cheng fumbled his way into the wardrobe in the darkness.

He had his place where he belonged. He shouldn’t have harbored unrealistic fantasies. Besides his family, everyone who was kind to him was paid by the Qi family, all because of his illness.

He was a patient, carefully cared for, placed in a glass box, always at risk of shattering.

…

Chi Zhihan’s WeChat message to Qi Ning remained unanswered, but due to Qi Ning’s aloofness, she hadn’t taken it to heart.

As the saying goes, “What you think about during the day, you dream about at night.” For two consecutive nights, Chi Zhihan had the same strange dream. In it, an elderly person who couldn’t speak reached out with pale, young hands in the darkness, trembling as they begged for help. All she could do was forcefully throw meat buns at them…

She would wake up covered in sweat.

This absurdly comical dream left her feeling heavy-hearted for some reason.

She shouldn’t pry into rich people’s affairs, but was this really right? Keeping a living person isolated in such a desolate place, where only a kind-looking housekeeper in her fifties or sixties would enter the opposite door each morning and leave in the afternoon.

For ten days, besides her and the housekeeper, this person hadn’t seen anyone else. He was so withdrawn that her sudden speech had sent him fleeing in panic.

What kind of illness could be so severe that it required such isolation from the world?

As her imagination began running wild toward conspiracy theories, Chi Zhihan slapped her face hard, reminding herself for the ten-thousandth time that she was only here for a month. The person across the hall lived much better than her – worry-free about food and shelter, with a big house, personal service, and all sorts of exquisite food.

For instance, tonight’s supper menu included date-filled eyebrow pastries.

These time-consuming, labor-intensive pastries were oily and sweet, requiring meticulous technique – the pastry layers had to be distinct, without any mistakes, to achieve the eyebrow-like effect when fried.

A wealthy person who could request such particular dishes couldn’t be that pitiful, right?

The delivery time for night snacks was usually between 11:30 PM and midnight. Ten o’clock was Chi Zhihan’s busiest time. The pastries for the Qi family couldn’t use margarine, and since the neighbor didn’t eat lard, she had written unsalted butter on the shopping list.

In S City’s early summer, the nights were still cool, but this luxurious villa kept the heating on.

While comfortable for people, it had completely softened the butter, leaving Chi Zhihan sweating from the effort.

In her daze, she seemed to hear the sound of the digital lock opening across the hall.

With hands covered in flour and butter, she paused in confusion and instinctively checked the clock.

10:05 PM.

…

The conspiracy theories she had just suppressed began to resurface. Chi Zhihan shuffled to the door in her slippers, flour-covered hands raised, and peered through the peephole.

Halfway there, she remembered the surveillance camera and looked at it apologetically.

There really were people there.

Outside were Qi Ning and two unfamiliar men. They seemed to have entered the wrong password on their first try, and Qi Ning was bending down to input it again.

All three wore grave expressions.

Chi Zhihan hesitated, then opened the door and poked her head out: “Need any help?”

All three turned around. Qi Ning waved her hand, tone somewhat impatient. “This doesn’t concern you.”

…

Chi Zhihan’s head lingered in the doorway for a moment, then she shrank back, grinning sheepishly as she responded and closed the door.

“Serves you right for being nosy!” Chi Zhihan mockingly slapped her face, quietly scolding herself, smearing flour all over.

Since Qi Ning had offered to help find her mother, her attitude toward Qi Ning had become complicated. Despite knowing Qi Ning looked down on her, she had unconsciously started trying to curry favor with her.

She missed her mother, desperately so.

Even if her mother had abandoned her because of debt as others said, she still missed her, because before abandoning her, her mother had always been gentle and devoted. If she found her mother, at least she wouldn’t have to be like now – lonely, guarding their family house of three, like an orphan.

…

Qi Ning’s attitude toward Chi Zhihan was actually quite restrained. She hadn’t immediately received Chi Zhihan’s WeChat message; by the time she noticed it, it was nearly midnight, and Qi Cheng had already stopped answering her calls.

Qi Cheng was a thoughtful and considerate person. Knowing his family worried about him, he would always answer calls promptly to report his safety, except during his episodes.

This time was her oversight.

When Dr. Zhao suggested Qi Cheng might actively reach out to Chi Zhihan, she had dismissed it.

Firstly, both Dr. Zhao and she didn’t really believe Qi Cheng could muster such courage. Psychological illness had strict stages, and the possibility of Qi Cheng doing something like this at his current stage was almost zero.

Secondly, she didn’t trust Chi Zhihan. She had initially hired her only because of her typical appearance. For the past half year, Qi Cheng’s private chefs only handled cooking and meal delivery, and Chi Zhihan would be no exception. She very much hoped Chi Zhihan wouldn’t have any connection with the Qi family beyond being a private chef, so she held Chi Zhihan’s weakness in her hand, using money to keep things strictly business, requiring Chi Zhihan to play along in their act.

However, no one expected that after ten days of hesitation, Qi Cheng would actually take the initiative.

It caught everyone off guard.

When Qi Cheng had episodes, his treatment results fluctuated, even showing signs of worsening. Besides his deeply ingrained self-doubt, sensitivity was also a major factor.

Regardless of how Chi Zhihan might react to the note, Qi Cheng would certainly discover that she had known about the cameras all along.

Now they faced the worst outcome.

Qi Cheng had an episode, changed the lock code, and the room was pitch black.

“It’s my fault,” Qi Ning’s voice trembled as they finally used the administrator password to force their way in. Not a single light was on in the room. “If I wasn’t pregnant, I wouldn’t have encouraged Qi Cheng to try such an aggressive treatment method.”

After six years of marriage to Zhou Jingshuo, the son of the housekeeper Auntie Liu, she was finally pregnant. Worried about not having enough energy during pregnancy, she had immediately agreed when Dr. Zhao suggested trying this method.

Now it had come to this.

Zhou Jingshuo held Qi Ning’s hand, his tone steady. “You did it for his own good, and the method was indeed effective.”

“He’s been ill for many years; having such progress will naturally lead to setbacks. It’s not your fault,” Dr. Zhao’s voice came as he fumbled to turn on the house’s main power switch. In the sudden light, he smiled bitterly. “None of us anticipated this treatment would be so effective. If we hadn’t overlooked it this time, we would have overlooked something next time.”

Psychological recovery happened in stages. Qi Cheng’s note was like jumping from the lowest level of treatment straight to the middle level – a rebound was almost certain.

Opening the wardrobe, Dr. Zhao and Zhou Jingshuo expertly lifted Qi Cheng, who was curled up in the corner, onto the bed. As they were about to inject the medication, Qi Cheng suddenly emerged from his self-imposed isolation and grabbed Qi Ning’s arm.

“Why… tell strangers?” Due to his poor mental state, his speech was disjointed and intermittent, but his grip was tight as his eyes fixed unblinkingly on Qi Ning.