Chapter 228 – A Walking Corpse
Xi Chunzhi shook her head, her voice now much less hoarse. “I didn’t feel anything at all. It was like falling asleep. When I was well-rested, I naturally woke up.”
Of course, she wasn’t going to tell this young doctor surnamed Xie the truth.
Xie Xinyu frowned deeply.
It seemed both of them were being very guarded around him.
He knew the reason behind Xi Chunzhi’s coma—she had lost something called an inner core.
Recently, he had encountered many people like this.
His surname was Xie, and he was part of the Xie family. His work at the medical department represented the interests of the Xie family.
The Wells family was searching for inner cores. How could the Xie family just sit idly by?
Many people in the medical department, like him, appeared to be doctors on the surface, but secretly researched inner cores. They each had their own area of focus, and his was primarily on how to treat people who had lost their inner cores.
Xi Chunzhi was the first person to wake up after losing an inner core, which made her very valuable for research. Unfortunately, it seemed these two were hiding something from him.
No matter. He could check the surveillance footage later.
After all, the room was under 360-degree surveillance.
“Your condition is very good now, and your vital signs are stable. Get some rest, and I’ll conduct another examination later. If everything continues to improve, you’ll be discharged soon,” Xie Xinyu said.
“Alright, thank you for your hard work, Doctor Xie,” Tu Ran replied politely.
“It’s no trouble at all,” Xie Xinyu said, then turned and left, thoughtfully closing the door behind him.
He went directly to his office on the next floor, opened his computer, and pulled up the surveillance footage from 5:15.
That was right after he had left, and it was the first time Xi Chunzhi’s vital signs had fluctuated.
In the footage, Tu Ran sat on the chair beside the bed, one hand supporting her forehead, the other resting on the armrest. Xi Chunzhi lay on the bed. Both remained in their respective positions without much movement.
By the time it was almost six, Xi Chunzhi’s eyelashes suddenly fluttered, and Tu Ran stood up to call for him. Everything that happened afterward, he already knew.
How could this be? Xie Xinyu couldn’t figure it out. Resting his chin on one hand, he kept replaying the footage.
Could nothing really have happened? Did she just wake up naturally?
It never crossed his mind to doubt the authenticity of the surveillance footage.
In reality, the footage had already been tampered with by Zero. What Xie Xinyu was watching now had been taken from a few days earlier, when Tu Ran was by Xi Chunzhi’s bedside. Zero had made subtle edits to ensure the footage flowed seamlessly, which is why Xie Xinyu hadn’t noticed anything amiss.
Xie Xinyu gave up and leaned back in his chair, staring at the ceiling as he tried to make sense of it all.
*
Meanwhile, in the hospital room, Tu Ran raised the head of the bed at Xi Chunzhi’s request, allowing her to sit up.
“Are you hungry?” she asked.
Xi Chunzhi shook her head.
“Do you want some water?” Tu Ran was struggling to find something to say.
“No.”
“Maybe you should lie down and sleep a little more?” Tu Ran suggested.
Xi Chunzhi replied, “…I’ve already slept for so long.”
Tu Ran thought, ‘Alright then…’
Xi Chunzhi kept staring at Tu Ran. Her dry lips twitched. She had so many questions she wanted to ask, but she knew the room was under surveillance, so she swallowed her words.
“I want to be discharged,” was all she could say in the end.
Tu Ran glanced at the hidden camera in the corner of the room—Zero was watching her.
There was no need to avoid Zero in their conversation. Zero knew everything, and this was no exception.
However, she couldn’t let Xi Chunzhi know about Zero’s existence.
Their conversation needed to avoid Zero’s presence, at least in Xi Chunzhi’s mind.
“Once the doctor confirms that you’ve fully recovered, we’ll leave the hospital,” Tu Ran said.
“My body—I know it well. I’m fine now,” Xi Chunzhi said, clenching her hand, feeling the strength coursing through it.
Ever since she had taken the inner core, her power had been steadily returning, and now, it had almost fully recovered.
Tu Ran glanced at the time. It was 6:25. By 7:00, she needed to be at the Pandalin District.
“I’ll come pick you up tomorrow at 7:00 PM,” Tu Ran said, standing up. “I have to patrol the Pandalin District, so rest here for another 24 hours. By the time I return tomorrow, your body will have been fully checked, and we can leave the hospital.”
Xi Chunzhi didn’t know why Tu Ran had to go to the Pandalin District, but she didn’t ask further. She had been lying here for so many days, she must have missed a lot of things happening outside.
She nodded, “Alright, go ahead and be careful.”
“Hmm,” Tu Ran responded, then added, “Do you want to lie down, or sit up?”
“I’ll sit for now. I’d like to stay up a little longer.”
“Alright. If you feel uncomfortable, just press the bell, and the nurse or doctor will come right away,” Tu Ran instructed. “The caregiver will be here soon as well. She’ll bring you food and help you freshen up. She’s been taking care of you while you were in a coma. If you want anything to eat, just ask her to buy it for you—it’s all covered in the fees, so don’t worry about saving money.”
Xi Chunzhi chuckled at how fussy Tu Ran was being and urged, “I know, I know! Just go already, or you’ll be late.”
Tu Ran glanced at the time. As expected, she was already late.
After making sure there was nothing else to remind Xi Chunzhi of, she finally turned and left.
Tu Ran took the suspended train to Pandalin District, running towards the meeting room of the Executive Department. As she had anticipated, she was ten minutes late.
What made Tu Ran’s heart clench was that, as soon as she pushed the door open, she saw “Dead Fish Eyes” sitting squarely at the head of the meeting room, tapping the table while scolding the pioneers beneath him. The pioneers all wore expressions of frustration, barely containing their anger.
As soon as he saw Tu Ran barge in, “Dead Fish Eyes” immediately shifted his target, unleashing his full wrath on her. “Ten minutes late! Do you know how much can go wrong in ten minutes?! What if a genetic monster had appeared in that time? Would you have made it in time to handle it? Do you understand how many residents of the Pandalin District would be in danger because of you? Can you take responsibility for that?!”
He was practically spitting with fury, but Tu Ran calmly walked to her seat, pulled out a chair, and sat down, completely unfazed by his tirade.
Xi Chunzhi had woken up today, so she was in a good mood and couldn’t be bothered to argue with him.
Besides, what was the point of arguing with someone who was practically a walking corpse?
Her indifferent attitude only made Diao Hongzhi even angrier. His face turned a deep shade of purple, like an overripe eggplant.
“Tu Ran! Don’t think you can act so arrogantly just because you’re a pioneer! You’re nothing but a—”
Tu Ran, growing irritated, rubbed her ear. Just then, her communicator beeped twice. She glanced at it—it was a mission alert.
Immediately standing up, she cut Diao Hongzhi off mid-sentence. “There’s a mission. Let’s go.”
Without sparing Diao Hongzhi a glance, she kicked her chair back, pushed open the meeting room door, and walked out.
Behind her, the other pioneers quickly followed. They had been tired of his ranting for a while and secretly wished they had arrived ten minutes late too.
