Événements étranges dans la chambre 202

Chapitre 3

I sat down and looked uneasily at the ceiling. The decorations were beautiful, inlaid with religious paintings in a Renaissance style, depicting the infant Jesus in the arms of the Virgin Mary and various angels. I hadn't expected Dr. Mo to have such an interest in art.

"Please have some tea." Rose brewed me a cup, which I gently placed on the chair beside me. I noticed that when she bent down to hand me the tea, the tips of her hair almost brushed against my face. And then there was her fragrance—a fragrance so familiar, one that no person or perfume could imitate. I had only ever smelled this fragrance on one other person before, and she was the second. It was a natural body odor, emanating from deep within her skin. Smelling that scent was like an electric shock to me, instantly plunging me into a trap of memories, and I felt a pang of pain.

After a while, we remained silent. She sat at her desk, looking at some documents, and I noticed she seemed to be glancing at me out of the corner of her eye. Realizing what was happening, I quickly took a sip of tea; it tasted better than I expected. Normally, I never touch tea leaves brewed for me by others—I know it's impolite, but I simply don't have the habit of drinking tea.

Half an hour passed, and the room was almost completely silent, despite the presence of two living people. I could clearly hear the ticking of the second hand on my watch. I finally couldn't take it anymore; perhaps Dr. Mo was just playing a trick on me. I stood up and said to Rose, "Excuse me, may I go upstairs to see Dr. Mo's treatment?" I used a tactful approach.

She seemed a little hesitant, but finally nodded: "It's alright, please go up."

I quietly climbed the stairs, trying not to make a sound. I stopped by the door upstairs, listening intently to the sounds inside. It sounded like someone was talking, but I couldn't make out what they were saying. After a moment's thought, I didn't knock but pushed the door open. I expected it to be dark again, but this time it wasn't. Ample light streamed in through the window, illuminating the room. Dr. Mo was still sitting in his large swivel chair, a smirk on his face, looking down at the three people on the floor like an emperor.

The three people on the ground were strange: an old man around sixty years old, a woman in her thirties, and a young man about my age. They were all sitting cross-legged on prayer cushions with their eyes closed, as if they were worshipping Buddha in a temple or meditating as monks.

The young man spoke with his eyes closed: "The gaslights on the street came on, and some Indian police officers were patrolling. I got into a rickshaw and nimbly crossed Avenue Joffre, finally stopping at a side street. I gave the driver a silver dollar, enough for him to work all day. I walked into an alley and saw a Western-style house. I circled the house; it was ten o'clock at night, and the whole house was dark, like a medieval European castle, except for a window on the third floor that emitted a soft yellow light. I climbed the wall, my heart pounding, gripping the iron bars tightly. Finally, I made it over and entered the garden behind the house. I lingered for a moment and saw a figure on the third floor..." I glanced at the lit window. Mustering my courage, I went to the back door of the mansion. It wasn't locked, just ajar. The hall was dark, save for a small white candle casting a dim light. Following the light, I found the stairs; the floorboards creaked as I climbed, trembling. Reaching the third floor, moonlight streamed through the skylight onto my face. I could feel the sweat on my forehead. Suddenly, the door opened, letting in a warm, yellow light. I saw her face. Caroline, my Caroline! I gripped her hand tightly, as if holding the whole world in my grasp. Her strong hand pulled me into the room. I could feel her burning desire. She slammed the door shut—"Tonight is ours."

He suddenly stopped speaking, his brows furrowing tightly; he couldn't continue. I looked at him in surprise, then at Dr. Mo. Dr. Mo smiled at me and said, "Don't be afraid, he's recalling, recalling an experience he had in 1934."

"1934? He's about my age. My grandfather was just a teenager in 1934." I couldn't believe it.

“I understand your reaction. Don’t you realize where that villa he just described is? It’s right here, the house we’re in right now. About six months ago, he passed by this house and it suddenly looked very familiar, even though he had never been here before. So, he started to remember. He felt that he had been here before, in 1934, to have an affair with a French woman named Caroline.”

Does he have a mental illness?

"No, he was recalling his past life. In his past life, he was a young man in Shanghai in the 1930s. At first, I didn't believe him, but later I asked several elderly people who had worked as maids here back then. They said that a French woman named Caroline did live in this building in the 1930s. Her husband did business in inland China for a long time, and thus many romantic affairs took place in this building. He couldn't possibly have known these things beforehand, so I believe his recollection of his past life is accurate."

"This is also treatment?"

"Of course. Alright, next." Dr. Mo was giving orders.

The old man began to speak, still with his eyes closed: "The night is deep. The funeral procession has finally arrived. Over a hundred men are carrying an enormous coffin, painted with vibrant colors, breathtakingly beautiful. Before me lies a hill, a perfectly regular four-sided triangle—this is the tomb of Qin Shi Huang. On either side of the avenue leading to the tomb stand dozens of enormous bronze warriors, and in the darkness, torches illuminate the field. My eyes gradually adjusted to the light until the gates of the underground palace suddenly opened. We followed the coffin of the great First Emperor down the steps, enveloped in eerie darkness. We knew we had entered the underground. The passageway seemed endless, the only sounds the heavy footsteps and the metallic scraping of our armor. It felt as if we were trekking along a long road to the underworld. Suddenly, a large gate opened, and we stepped through it. I felt countless golden rays pierce my eyes. I looked up and rubbed my eyes." My eyes finally opened, and I could see clearly. Above us seemed to be another sky, its light as bright as day; beneath our feet lay another sea, a sea made of mercury. The magnificent underground palace—I knew we had entered the mausoleum of the great Qin Shi Huang. The palace contained countless terracotta warriors, thousands upon thousands, like a vast army. We carefully passed through them and the treasures scattered with gold. In the center of the palace, we placed the coffin. We offered our final kneeling salutation to the First Emperor. Farewell, Emperor. Finally, we took one last, lingering look at the underground palace. What more could one ask for in this life? We left the palace, closed the door, and walked through the long underground passage towards the surface. Just as we were about to return to the surface, the last door remained tightly shut. What was happening? We pounded on the door, calling out, but no one answered. They had abandoned us. I finally understood; we ourselves were also sacrificial offerings. In the darkness, I calmly awaited death.

“That’s enough,” Dr. Mo interrupted him. “You’re very good, and your treatment is very effective. What I need are details, and you’ve done that. Very well.”

"His past life was actually a soldier buried with Qin Shi Huang, that's unbelievable!" I interjected, though I actually thought it was absurd. This old man's imagination was too rich; he might have delusions.

"The most incredible thing is yet to come. Madam, it's your turn now." A knowing smile appeared on Dr. Mo's lips.

"I don't want to say." The woman's answer surprised me, but I was secretly pleased. Dr. Mo had finally met his match this time.

“I know your memories are causing you a lot of pain, and I understand you very well. But it’s okay. Talking about it will ease your pain, and I believe this young man will keep it a secret for you.”

Is he talking about me?

"It was a nightmare. Although I hoped it was just a dream, it wasn't. It was something I experienced firsthand, within another body of my soul. It was December 1937, and I was in Nanjing. That winter, my family didn't have time to escape. The city was filled with fleeing soldiers, crowding every road. We couldn't leave; we could only hide in our homes, listening to the rumbling of artillery fire growing louder and louder. The first night, nothing happened. We spent the night in fear. The next day, I quietly opened the window and found the streets littered with corpses—the bodies of Chinese soldiers. Groups of Japanese soldiers, bayonets in hand, were plunging into the chests of the still-breathing Chinese soldiers. And there were rows upon rows of..." The Chinese prisoners were tied up and led towards the Yangtze River. I nervously closed the window. My family and I didn't know what to do. Suddenly, the door was kicked open, and a group of Japanese soldiers rushed in. They pointed guns and ordered us to hand over our money. We handed over all the cash and jewelry in the house. Finally, they opened fire. First, my brother was shot in the head. My mother and father were hit by dozens of bullets. Finally, my younger brother was shot. They ordered him to kneel down, and then one of them drew a long military knife and beheaded him. Blood, all blood, splattered all over my face. He—I'm sorry, I can't go on," the woman said in great anguish.

"Go on!" Dr. Mo commanded again. I found him cruel; he seemed to really enjoy hearing such horrific things.

“Yes.” She finally obeyed Dr. Mo’s orders. “Then, they pinned me to the ground, tore all my clothes off, their hands were covered in blood, they were groping me, and then—” Suddenly, she clutched her body tightly, as if someone really was tearing her clothes off. Her calm tone vanished, replaced by a loud scream: “Let go! You beasts, I beg you, please don’t—”

I noticed two lines of tears streaming down her face, and I couldn't believe she was lying. I secretly observed Dr. Mo again, but his eyes shone with excitement, as if this had stimulated some of his senses.

She suddenly opened her eyes, took a few steps back with tears streaming down her face, then opened the door and went out. The sound of her hurriedly going downstairs could be heard outside.

“Did you know?” Dr. Mo leaned closer to me and said, “Those Japanese took turns.”

“Boring. You shouldn’t force her to recall those painful experiences.”

“Everyone should face their pain,” he actually said, quite confidently. Then he said to the old man and the young man on the ground, “Alright, that’s the end of today’s treatment. You were both great. Be on time for the next session.”

An old man and a young boy opened their eyes and went outside.

"Alright, you're next." Now it's just Dr. Mo and me left in the room.

"I?"

"Come on, sit on the ground, it's clean, and close your eyes."

"No, I don't believe that."

“You must believe me, sit down.” He spoke in a commanding tone again, and I found his voice to have a kind of magic, perhaps because he was good at bluffing. I actually sat down on the floor. He continued, “Close your eyes, okay, relax, relax, relax some more—”

He actually said "relax" dozens of times in one breath. I can't remember how long he talked, but I felt that I really relaxed, as if my body no longer existed and my mind became an independent thing. Finally, I vaguely heard him say, "You are no longer yourself."

Am I no longer myself?

In that instant, I felt as if I had fallen into a grave—

After what seemed like an eternity, I opened my eyes. Dr. Mo was still sitting in front of me. I gradually came to my senses and looked around. Thankfully, only half an hour had passed.

Do you know what you just told me?

"I didn't know anything just now. Did you believe me if I said I was the reincarnation of an emperor?"

"That's right, your memories of your past life are of an emperor."

"Bullshit." I said it very softly.

"That's right, you said it yourself."

"Then please tell me, which emperor was I in my past life, Qin Shi Huang or Emperor Wu of Han?" I was really angry.

Believe it or not.

"Are you a doctor or a wizard?" I had an urge to punch him.

"In ancient times, the earliest doctors were shamans." His answer even quoted classical texts, and I agreed with his statement. But the problem is that it's the 21st century now, and he's a highly skilled conman, although I find it hard to doubt the authenticity of the woman's recollection—it seemed too real.

"I'm sorry, I'm leaving. Don't call me again." I walked out of the room and slammed the door shut.

As I walked downstairs, Rose smiled at me and asked, "Hello, how was the treatment?"

I wanted to say, "That's terrible," but I didn't say it in the end. I just mumbled, "It's okay."

I walked to the door, and Rose's voice came from behind me: "Please come again next time."

I turned around, nodded to her, and stepped out of the clinic. Breathing in fresh air again, I looked back at the three-story building and suddenly felt a pang of fear. After a few steps, I saw a woman's figure flash past me. She looked familiar, so I quickened my pace. Although I only saw her back, the woman turned her head a few times, and I recognized her—Huang Yun.

What was she doing here? I could tell she had just come out of the clinic and was walking towards the street. Putting aside my doubts, I went up to her and called out to her.

"Huang Yun".

"How come it's you?" She seemed surprised, but quickly regained her composure. "What a coincidence, the world really is getting smaller and smaller."

"I'm here for treatment."

"Oh, I forgot, it was me who introduced you here."

What are you doing here?

"I haven't been feeling well lately." She hesitated for a moment, somewhat evasive. Was that an answer? She was changing the subject: "By the way, how's Dr. Mo's treatment for you?"

“I’m very disappointed in him.” Then I said softly, “He’s a bit of a charlatan, don’t tell him I told him.”

She smiled, her complexion much rosier. I then noticed that she looked less haggard and more beautiful than when we last met at the coffee shop. Remembering something, I continued, "I don't think I saw you at Lu Bai's memorial service last week."

She was silent for a moment, then said softly, "Because I'm too tired."

"Perhaps." I lowered my head.

"Do you have a girlfriend?" she suddenly asked me.

"No, never. Is there something wrong?" I asked, puzzled.

"Oh, I see. It's nothing. Okay, goodbye." She tidied her hair, which was loose and soft, and shone alluringly in the sunlight. Then she slung her bag over her shoulder and walked lightly forward.

This strange woman.

Something suddenly stirred within me.

January 7th

Following the address Ye Xiao gave me, I found the mental hospital. I walked through a passageway made of tall, thick brick walls and iron bars, and, guided by a strong male nurse, entered a white single room. The room was filled with a rich fragrance, and I noticed a bouquet of flowers in a vase beside the bed.

A girl sat on the edge of the bed with her back to me.

"Qian Xiaoqing," the caregiver called out.

The girl remained motionless and unresponsive.

That's just how she is.

"Did she lose her hearing because she was overly traumatized during her suicide attempt?"

“No, her hearing is perfectly fine.” Then the caregiver left. Only she and I remained in the ward.

I approached her, but she seemed oblivious. I walked around the bed to stand in front of her, my body blocking the sunlight streaming in through the iron bars.

She finally looked up at me. She wasn't particularly beautiful, but she had large eyes and a pale face. She stared at me for a long time, then lowered her head again.

"Why did you commit suicide?" I know people have asked her this question hundreds of times.

There was no response.

"What have you seen?" I continued to ask.

There was still no answer.

Do you often go online?

This time she looked at me and nodded. I felt I could engage with her, so I continued, "What's your online name?"

There was no response.

"Do you use OICQ? What websites do you usually visit? What do you use to access the internet? What games do you like to play?" I asked her a series of seemingly unrelated questions, but she didn't respond. I was at a loss. I squatted down, staring into her eyes, meeting her gaze. But she tried to avoid my gaze, looking around at her surroundings.

“Look at me,” I said loudly.

She finally looked me straight in the eye. She was so close I could even see her deep black pupils. A moment later, her pupils suddenly dilated, which frightened me. They grew larger and larger, out of control—no, her life might be in danger. I was about to call for help when she finally spoke: "She—is—in—the—underground—palace."

I was startled. Her voice was very low, almost a whisper, sounding muffled, like it was coming from underground. And she spoke slowly and deliberately, which sent a chill down my spine.

“She’s in the underground palace,” I repeated. Who is “she”? And what does “underground palace” represent? It seems to be in a tomb. I looked at her eyes again; her pupils had returned to normal.

"What exactly does that mean?"

She closed her eyes. I knew I couldn't upset her any further; her dilated pupils were really worrying.

"I'm sorry." I left the ward.

The mental hospital was completely silent. As I stepped out of the gate, those few words filled my mind—"She's in the underground palace."

January 8th

I went to Lin Shu's house. I hadn't been there since his accident because I was afraid of getting lost again. But today everything went smoothly. I knocked on his door, and his mother burst into tears as soon as she saw me. She cried and cried. I used to play at Lin Shu's house often when I was little, and his whole family knew me well—Lin Shu's father and mother, and his older sister, who had married and moved to Australia but had come back this time. Lin Shu's mother held my hand, reminiscing about what Lin Shu looked like as a child, and about me when I was little. Her memory was excellent; she even remembered clearly the time when Lin Shu and I secretly watched Lin Shu's sister take a bath one summer afternoon when we were in elementary school.

As I was leaving, I saw Lin Shu's computer tower and monitor scattered around their doorway. Lin Shu's mother became heartbroken again upon seeing them: "Lin Shu's father and I are going to burn everything Lin Shu used in his life, including this computer. We feel like crying whenever we see these things."