Immortality of the dead

Chapter 7

Remember to turn left forward; those were originally two offices of this clubhouse. It seems one of them has now become Rembrandt's office.

The other room should be the office of the Director of the Health Bureau, who is in charge of the scene. Let's visit him first.

Just as I was about to go over, I saw someone running towards me.

"Where is Director Ouyang now? It's the State Council General Office's hotline; they'll call back in ten minutes."

"They must have gone to Building 3 where the new cases are located," the person who had just spoken to me replied.

"Thank you." He dashed past me like a whirlwind, opened the door, and went out.

It seems that Director Ouyang is about to report an even worse situation to the central government, and won't have time to deal with a reporter like me for the time being.

What should we do? Go to Rembrandt's office and wait?

This was not a good idea. I quickly dismissed the idea of waiting passively. After the initial shock, I had now returned to my role as a journalist.

This clubhouse has three floors including the basement. The first floor is the lobby, the second floor has badminton and billiards rooms, and the basement has the largest space, with two tennis courts and a basketball court.

I decided to continue down the path.

I heard a noise downstairs halfway up the stairs, like someone was coming up. I turned around and bumped into someone face to face. I was startled and stopped.

She was a little girl, about five or six years old, with a pigtail sticking straight up, rosy cheeks, and a dimple on one side of her face; she was very cute. When she saw me, she stopped abruptly.

"Uncle Doctor, it's me, it's me," she said timidly.

I crouched down and looked into her dark eyes. She had big eyes, and they were filled with fear.

"What's wrong?" I asked her in the softest voice.

"I...I want to find my dad." She reached out and lifted the sleeve of her purple sweater, revealing her pink arms.

"Doctor, I'm not sick. I feel great, and I'm much stronger than before. Look!" She waved her arm in front of me.

"Put your sleeves down quickly, you'll catch a cold." I helped her pull her sweater up, but my heart ached.

“If you stay a few more days, your father will come to find you.” What else could I say? Rembrandt said that there are at most 48 hours from the heightened state to the onset of symptoms. This lovely little girl only has a few days left.

The little girl looked at me, and tears slowly welled up in her big eyes: "Tongtong knows she shouldn't run around, but Mommy is gone. She didn't come to see me yesterday, and she didn't come today either. I want to find Daddy. I miss Daddy." Her tears finally rolled down her cheeks.

I picked up the little girl and carried her down the stairs. She buried her head in my chest, her shoulders shaking uncontrollably. I didn't care at that moment whether such close contact would be detected. This poor child, she was too clever; she knew what was happening.

The staircase leading to the basement level should have led to the basketball court, but now a temporary iron gate has been installed there. Pushing open the unlocked gate, you can see that the basketball court in front has been divided into several temporary cubicles.

A medical worker is shouting: "Tongtong, Tongtong!"

Seeing me carrying the girl out of the stairwell, she exclaimed in surprise, "Tongtong, what happened to you...?"

The girl gestured for me to put her down, so I bent down and gently placed her on the ground. She first said to the nurse, "I'm sorry, Auntie, I won't run around anymore."

Then she turned to me and said softly, "Thank you, Uncle, I'm sorry I got your clothes dirty." She bowed to me, slowly walked into the narrow aisle between the cubicles, and disappeared behind the white curtain of one of the cubicles.

“I’m a reporter here to conduct an interview. Mr. Rembrandt and Director Ouyang aren’t here, so I came down to check on things myself. I didn’t expect to run into Tongtong at the stairwell,” I said.

"Oh dear," the nurse said, "Luckily you stopped us. We're short-staffed, and every patient is actually in critical condition. We just can't take care of them all." She suddenly realized something, stopped, and looked at me.

"Rembrandt told me this morning that the period of heightened arousal only lasts 24 to 48 hours, and then it will be over very quickly..."

The nurse seemed relieved: "The little girl's mother died last night, and she herself has been in a state of agitation for over twenty hours. I've been a nurse for over ten years, and I've never seen such a terrible illness. Fortunately, this protective suit worked, and so far, all the medical staff are fine." As she spoke, she went over and closed the iron gate, locking it with a key.

"I don't know who left the door locked just now. It was too dangerous. Few patients in their heightened state can stay in bed. They feel like they're in great spirits, and if you're not careful, someone might run out. If they do, that could be..." She looked terrified.

I recalled Rembrandt's description of patients in a state of mania and asked, "If they feel they are not sick, and you confine them here, doesn't anyone feel their human rights have been violated and protest?"

“We’ve made it clear to them that they can go back after 72 hours if everything is alright, and the government will provide some compensation. That way, they won’t have too much resistance. Besides, all the early patients were sent to the intensive care unit one by one; none of them were able to leave. They saw it all and knew what was going on. Otherwise, do you think things would be so quiet now?”

I listened intently, and sure enough, the cubicles, filled with people, were completely silent. These patients were full of energy, feeling brimming with strength, yet their hearts were filled with fear and despair for the future, leaving them to suffer and wait amidst this stark contrast.

I shivered; the strange atmosphere here was so oppressive that it was hard to breathe.

"But what about those who have passed the heightened state? Shouldn't they be in great pain? Why haven't we heard their cries?" In my opinion, their wails should be echoing here like the howls of vengeful ghosts.

“They’re not in the same section as the patients in their heightened state; there’s a well-soundproof glass wall separating them, and they’ve all had injections. Oh, I can’t talk to you here. Are you ready now? Probably not many people have time for a special interview with you,” the nurse said.

“It’s okay,” I glanced at the spot where Tongtong had disappeared, “I won’t bother you.”

"uncle!"

I pulled back the curtain and went inside.

The little girl lay on a makeshift wire bed, staring blankly at the ceiling. When she saw it was me, she sat up in surprise.

I sat down on the wooden chair next to her and helped her pull the blanket up.

I hesitated before coming in.

When I held her earlier, I was filled with sympathy for her and didn't think much about it. But after I came to my senses, I realized it would be a lie to say I wasn't afraid. If she had contracted it, the way she would die from her body swelling up to the point of exploding would be too terrifying.

There was no turning back, I told myself firmly. Now that I was here, the first thing I needed to consider wasn't how to keep my distance from the patients. Tongtong was just the beginning.

"Tongtong, what story would you like to hear?" I asked her with a smile.

It was already evening when I came out of Tongtong's cubicle. I hadn't eaten lunch, nor had any of the other medical staff, because eating required taking off their protective gear and undergoing another round of disinfection. So they only ate two meals a day, breakfast and dinner. Rembrandt had already returned. I said goodbye to Tongtong when someone brought her dinner; the person delivering the dinner was wearing a light blue protective suit, the same color as her eyes.

"Could you prepare dinner for me too?" I went back downstairs, saw Director Ouyang with bloodshot eyes, said a few words, and then made this request.

"how?"

"I want to stay here, just like you."

Rembrandt happened to walk in at that moment.

"Xiao Na said she wants to stay here 24 hours a day, what do you think?"

“No.” Rembrandt refused outright.

"I can't bring myself to leave Xinjingyuan, this place..."

“Listen to me,” Rembrandt interrupted me. “It’s normal. Anyone with a conscience would do their best to help these patients and prevent the plague from spreading, especially since your parents are here. But as a journalist without medical training, I’m honestly worried you’ll cause trouble for us, so you must maintain a good mental and physical condition.”

Director Ouyang shrugged at me: "We have to listen to the expert's opinion. He's right. The pressure here is really too great. Sometimes I'm even in a daze and don't dare to stay down here for too long."

“You can’t stay here for more than eight hours a day. The rest of the time, I advise you to relax,” Rembrandt said.

"Relax?" I gave a wry smile.

“Yes, you need to relax after you leave here. Choose a way that suits you, maybe you could go clubbing,” Rembrandt suggested.

"Okay." Before leaving, I suddenly remembered something and said to Director Ouyang, "I suggest setting up a reception point near the entrance of the community, in a blind spot where passersby can't see it. It would be best if I changed into my protective suit there. Otherwise, if passersby happen to see the protective suit, they might have some bad ideas. I think many nearby residents have already noticed this cordoned-off area."

Ouyang slapped his forehead: "Really, how could I not have thought of that? We must make this rule immediately, otherwise, if rumors spread, we'll be in a passive position. Let's find a spot and build a hut with simple materials." He nodded to me: "Thank you very much, you've plugged a big loophole for us."

At that moment, I thought of those makeshift basement rooms, and I couldn't help but shudder.

After taking off the protective suit I'd worn all day, the air outside Xinjingyuan was cool and refreshing.

A gust of cold wind suddenly reminded me of something. The day's hectic pace has left my temples throbbing; otherwise, I would have thought of it much earlier.

I glanced at my watch; there should still be enough time.

Take out your phone and make a call.

"Dr. Lin?"

"I am."

“Great, you’re still at get off work. I’m Na Duo, a reporter from the Morning Star who interviewed you three months ago because of Cheng Gen.”

"ah."

"I have a question for you. Cheng Gen, is he really cured? Did he really recover completely?"

"Yes, it's completely healed. Oh, I have to go now, that's all for now," the other person said hurriedly before hanging up.

It seems I was wrong. I got into the taxi, leaned back in the seat, closed my eyes for a moment, then opened them and looked at my bag.

I opened my bag, took out my interview notebook, and inside, I found a white paper bird.

It's a paper bird that flaps its wings when you twitch its tail.

On its left wing is written "For Uncle Nado".

On the right wing is written "Please don't forget me." Below that are two smaller words, "Tongtong." And below that is "6 years old."

I will never forget you. If one day the interview is published, I will send the newspaper to your father.

If I can't publish it, then you'll always remain in my computer archives, in my notebooks, in my memories.

Tongtong. 6 years old. Fourth, the hollowed-out person.

As soon as I got home, I took a shower. During the day, when I was sweating the most, my underwear was completely sticking to my body, and even after it dried, I still felt uncomfortable all over.

After dinner, I went out towards Maoming Road. Clubbing was too intense for me, so I decided to find a quiet bar.

The bars are concentrated at the southern end of Maoming Road. Hengshan Road was once the most famous bar street in Shanghai, but Xintiandi gradually replaced its former glory, and now Bund 3 has become the new darling. Maoming Road, however, is an earlier generation, and there's a jazz bar there that I particularly like.

This stretch of road is narrow, with bars lined up one after another under the tall plane trees on both sides, and music drifting out from them from time to time. This was originally a place with some charm, but in my eyes, everything in the scenery became distorted.

It felt like there was a drum in my heart, the beat was getting faster and faster. Ever since I left Xinjingyuan and stepped into the normal air of Shanghai, the anxiety in my heart and the external environment have formed a strong contrast.

Thump, thump, thump thump thump thump thump...

Damn it, I can't stop.

I closed my eyes and pressed hard on my temples.

Take a deep breath; the jazz bar I'm going to is right in front of me.

I pushed open the door. The room was dimly lit, and a band was playing a very familiar tune, though I couldn't recall its name. Looking around, I saw the audience enjoying their drinks and music, completely at ease.

Are they so engrossed in their own world? They are unaware that a certain corner of this city has become extremely dangerous. If this danger spreads, they will know what hell looks like!

Oh no, why am I thinking about these things again?

I've always been proud of my mental fortitude, but this time, the threats my family faced and the horrific scenes I witnessed truly pushed me to my limit.

Rembrandt was right, I need to relax.

I looked away from the others, but unexpectedly caught sight of a familiar profile. After hesitating for a moment, I walked towards her.

"Hello, I didn't expect to meet you here."

He Xi showed a hint of surprise on her face, then smiled and tilted her wine glass forward slightly, gesturing for me to sit down.

"I thought you'd be at Xinjingyuan for 24 hours, just like your brother Rembrandt."

“I’m here on vacation, and it’s my freedom to go wherever and whenever I want.” He Xi frowned and said, “Who said he’s my brother?”