Chapter 71: Chapter Seventy: Patches

What is this thing?

When Lu Xiusi arrived at Kraft’s attic, he found the walls covered with patch after patch of mottled color blocks, stretching from corner to door.

Along the edges of the black-and-white diagrams were small, tightly fitted squares, with narrow, winding gaps threading through them, though most were nearly stuck together; yet upon closer inspection, differences could still be discerned by the density of diagonal strokes within each square.

At this, Kraft showed him a thick stack of papers—their efforts over the past half-month. “I’ve transferred these onto the map; using images should make it more intuitive.”

“White means improvement?” Lu Xiusi studied the map for a moment and asked.

“No, the opposite—black is improvement.”

Kraft handed Lu Xiusi the recording sheets and pointed out the small crosses and horizontal lines. “I call the crossed lines positive effects, single horizontal lines negative—or ineffective. But naming doesn’t matter; just remember that positive effects must be shaded black on the map to indicate degree of improvement.”

“For each one, I add another diagonal stroke and shade it in. Since they have no accurate timing tools and rely entirely on subjective judgment, the reliability of this data…”

Lu Xiusi scratched his head. He thought nothing could be more accurate than a patient’s own feeling. In the most basic view, isn’t the patient the one who knows his own body best?

Kraft flipped through several pages of records and pointed out a few unusual entries from recent days. “Especially these—daily fluctuations, jumping back and forth. It’s possible, but it’s extreme.”

“Look at this one. When we visited yesterday, he came back carrying water and told us he’d just woken up. But the nearest water source is far away.”

Lu Xiusi scratched his head again. The new well isn’t finished yet; the round trip to the nearest water point takes a long time—there’s clearly something wrong. But he didn’t understand why anyone would do this.

“If he’s lying, I don’t understand why. What’s his name?” He glanced at the record but couldn’t make out Kraft’s handwriting.

Kraft rarely let anyone see his original notes; people usually saw only the second, rewritten copies. It was hard not to suspect the handwriting was illegible, meant only for his own later reference.

Kraft glanced at it and answered without hesitation: “Kup.”

“Huh?” Lu Xiusi was baffled. He looked again at the wildly scribbled, artistic name—and still couldn’t read it.

“I kept the unusual ones on separate sheets, marked them in blue on the map. This one’s just the most extreme.” Kraft had no good solution for this. “The best way is to spend more time.”

Lu Xiusi hefted the papers in his hand. He couldn’t believe this weight came from their slow, step-by-step visits. “Where would you find the time?”

“Too difficult. They all probably have their reasons. I can’t investigate each one individually, and even if I did, it wouldn’t be solved overnight.”

He looked at the maps on the wall. The black areas were expanding and darkening at a relatively uniform rate.

The first survey after stopping well water had only added sparse, scattered grid lines. By the third day, the map had changed noticeably—like a handful of black beans scattered across it.

After that, the trend became clear: the entire region slowly improved. Most squares gained diagonal shading, filling out fully. For the first time, black looked pleasing to the eye.

“So the black fluid’s presence inside the body isn’t permanent. If diluted in well water, its effects fade after stopping use. By extension, those who used ordinary dilutions should also fully recover after sufficient time.”

As expected, a uniform improvement was spreading. Most people showed a clear trend: their awakening times gradually shifted earlier.

This increased Kraft and Lu Xiusi’s trust and reception in the Salt Tide District. They received no tangible rewards, but the change in attitude was visible.

From obedience based on force and status, it became genuine respect. Some began sharing more detailed information—talking about where the sun was when they last woke, comparing it to the height of the opposite roof.

True, much of the information wasn’t especially useful, but enough, after conversion, helped Kraft correct his own survey.

“That’s good news,” Lu Xiusi said. He watched Kraft pick up his pen and fill in several more squares on the new map, then cross-reference the numbers on the records—no discrepancies at all.

“It’s terrifying…”

“What?”

“Your memory,” Lu Xiusi marveled. “I thought you remembered every word of those books because you’d read them so long—but I didn’t realize your memory was this sharp.”

Kraft couldn’t respond to that, so he simply said, “Probably just talent,” making Lu Xiusi grunt enviously.

Since Kraft didn’t seem to need help, Lu Xiusi, bored, sat down and studied the completed maps.

Diagrams really did feel different—more intuitive, easier to grasp. He’d understood this before, when studying the inguinal canal’s anatomy.

The author spent minutes of text explaining how the aponeuroses and fasciae originated, how they formed the four notoriously hard-to-pronounce walls—front, back, top, bottom—and how internal organs escaped through this structure.

All together, it was simpler and clearer than a single diagram. That’s why everyone liked diagrams—especially clean, clear ones. Lu Xiusi was no exception.

He started from the corner and moved through them one by one, watching black spread gradually, increasing from few to many, wrapping around the few lighter patches in reverse.

The rare light patches shrank noticeably on the next map, then were split and dissolved by new black areas.

Some entirely white squares had tiny blue dots—Kraft’s special markers for patients whose statements couldn’t be verified, given extra attention.

Some blue dots disappeared over time, but many remained stuck in place. The longer he looked, the more it bothered him—he wanted to scrape them off.

Once noticed, certain things couldn’t be erased from the mind. Lu Xiusi’s gaze kept drifting to the blue dots, observing changes around them. After watching long enough, he actually found a pattern.

Logically, the overall black shading should progress uniformly, so no light patches should persist for long.

But near one blue dot, there was a difference—not a one- or two-time survey error, but a persistent anomaly.

When white squares were still numerous, it wasn’t obvious. But once most areas turned black, it slowly stood out.

“Hmm?”

To be thorough, Lu Xiusi walked back to earlier maps and compared them repeatedly, confirming his discovery.

The shading speed around that anomalous blue dot seemed delayed—about two days slower than the average rate, roughly the interval between surveys.

“Weird?”

He took a few thin sheets from the desk, traced the rough outline of the light area, then marked the blue dot’s position within it.

“Kraft, could you draw this area first on the next map?” Lu Xiusi pointed to a region near the center he’d identified, roughly circling it. “I have an idea, but I’m not sure.”

Kraft, interrupted, glanced at the data corresponding to the area he’d circled. He didn’t seem surprised. “You noticed the color change here is different too?”

“You knew already?” Lu Xiusi felt disappointed—he thought he’d discovered something significant.

“I wouldn’t say that. Actually, there are several places with similar phenomena.” Kraft walked along the wall, casually pointing out several small areas Lu Xiusi had missed—some darker, some lighter, many with blue dots.

“But most disappeared after a few days. Later, we found it was due to neighbors sharing symptoms, skewing subjective reports. This one only became obvious recently.”

“Alright, I’m just being overly curious.” Lu Xiusi shrugged and set the paper down.

Another hand took the paper. “You’re treating the blue dot as the center?”

“Yes. I was looking around the blue dot. I know there’s probably no connection—it’s just that they’re too conspicuous.”

Kraft leaned in, studied it briefly, then resumed drawing on the map, quickly completing a new, isolated version of the area.

“It’s not without logic, Lu Xiusi.”

A new outline of the light area was drawn and placed over the previous map, aligned by the central point.

Kraft held several sheets up to the sunlight. Strong light passed through the thin, poorly made paper, overlaying the images.

“The area is shrinking, yes—but it’s shrinking centered on this point… hard to explain?” He gestured with his pen. Progress in all directions showed similar trends—no central bloom of black.

“Because this person doesn’t just distrust you—he’s also spreading rumors about you?” Lu Xiusi deduced instantly from interpersonal dynamics, demonstrating excellent learning ability.

“I’m glad you’ve learned one important factor of investigation bias—but forced analogy isn’t advisable. Next time, remind me to ask more questions over there, alright?”

“You’re too modest. I don’t know anyone who can remind you to remember things, except when you forget to eat.” Few ever reminded Kraft. Lu Xiusi didn’t think he’d be the exception—just take it as a joke.

“By the way.” He tapped the blue dot. “Who is this person? Still spreading false information at this point?”

“Kup. The one I mentioned earlier.”