Chapter 64: Li Yuanzhuang

Li Yuanzhuang’s girlfriend is a pediatric female physician at the Taoyuan West Branch of Qinzhou Medical College.

It is said that doctors, teachers, and other service industry workers gradually exhaust their patience at work, accumulating heavy stress and negative emotions, which can only be released after hours—and often directed at their own family, especially their spouses.

As a result, workers in these fields often become sharp, picky, and overly concerned with their partners… these are all expressions of seeking emotional value. This is also the origin of the internet’s “Three Don’t Marry” rule.

But Li Yuanzhuang believed his girlfriend was not like that.

His girlfriend’s name was Zhang Ziyi. Though she worked in a hospital, and specifically in pediatrics—facing anxious parents doting on their children and crying, unruly kids every day—she bore the dual pressures of both doctor and nursery teacher… yet Zhang Ziyi never vented her work stress on him; instead, she was gentler and more agreeable than most women, so easygoing she was almost easy to take advantage of.

At six-thirty in the evening, Li Yuanzhuang had already bought a bouquet of roses and an engagement ring, parked his car in the hospital’s underground lot, and waited for his girlfriend to finish her shift—he had decided to spend the rest of his life with this girl.

But this wait stretched until midnight.

Today was actually Zhang Ziyi’s birthday, yet she had not been granted time off; instead, she had to work overtime until three a.m. because a colleague had taken medical leave. Li Yuanzhuang had urged her more than once not to always pick up others’ abandoned work—that only trained them to dump everything on her, leaving her with endless overtime.

But seeing the anxious parents and sickly children in the pediatric ward, she could never harden her soft heart.

“After I propose successfully, I’ll make her quit this job—transfer to a calmer private hospital. Public hospitals are too brutal… her medical skills are excellent; she won’t have trouble finding another job.” Li Yuanzhuang sat in the car, staring at the bouquet and diamond ring box on the passenger seat, thinking silently: “Even if she can’t find another job, it doesn’t matter.”

His own income was also substantial. These days, a man without money couldn’t muster the courage to propose. If needed, he’d support her himself.

Checking the time—it was already three a.m.—Li Yuanzhuang picked up the bouquet and ring, stepped out of the car, and hurried into the hospital’s main entrance. He was determined not to let her work another minute—he had already decided to beat the shit out of her department head.

But inside the hospital, it was empty. The vast first-floor lobby was unnervingly silent, save for the occasional electronic beep.

Qinzhou Medical College’s Taoyuan West Branch was the city’s most renowned public tertiary hospital, always packed with patients—even late at night. But today, it was bizarrely deserted, not a single voice to be heard.

Li Yuanzhuang held the roses and looked around. Not a single patient was waiting at the registration desk—not even a single staff member.

Had the hospital closed early? But the lights inside were still on.

Earlier that afternoon, after eating at a restaurant, Li Yuanzhuang had returned to his car and waited for a long time, eventually falling asleep. When he woke up and entered the hospital again, it felt as if he had stepped into another world—a world without people.

He shoved the diamond ring box into his pocket, pulled out his phone, dialed Zhang Ziyi’s number, and walked forward.

By the time he reached the front desk, the call still went unanswered. He set his phone down, leaned against the counter, and prepared to try again—when suddenly, his finger sliding across the screen froze.

Behind the counter, medical records and paper documents lay scattered across the floor. Two women in black uniforms lay sprawled among the papers in a strange, running posture—motionless.

“What happened?” Li Yuanzhuang placed the bouquet on the counter, climbed over the desk with one hand, and gently touched the two women on the ground. Their bodies were already cold.

He felt for their carotid pulses—they had been dead for hours.

Li Yuanzhuang’s breath caught. He turned his head and saw a third female corpse, dressed in the same uniform, lying near the exit. All three had fallen in identical poses—as if they had collapsed mid-run, as if they had been chasing something when they died.

What had happened? “I wonder… how is Ziyi?”

Li Yuanzhuang jumped to his feet and sprinted toward the elevator. He remembered his girlfriend’s pediatric ward was on the third floor. In his haste, he didn’t notice the three corpses on the floor shared one trait—the bright light cast on the tiles revealed no shadows. On his way to the elevator, he found more corpses sprawled in the same bizarre, running postures. Even stranger: many held or lay beside objects like scalpels, scissors, or mop handles.

The hospital at midnight was empty and silent. The pediatric ward no longer echoed with children’s cries or parents’ anxious questions—only his footsteps reverberated down the corridor. The hospital wasn’t dark, but under the bright lights, every narrow shadow seemed unnaturally prominent, as if hiding some monstrous terror.

“Ziyi! Are you here?” Li Yuanzhuang rushed to the door of her ward and thrust his head inside, shouting loudly.

His desperate cry echoed sharply through the silent hospital—but received no reply. Only a hollow hum bounced off the tile walls stained with dried blood.

The corpses leaning against the corridor walls still held their eerie, running postures. Li Yuanzhuang’s heart pounded wildly, deep fear gnawing at his sanity like worms.

Yet something kept him going. He did not flee in terror. He pulled out his phone, tried dialing emergency services, and cautiously moved forward, gripping the wall.

“I have to find Ziyi… she’s in danger. Something’s happened in the hospital. I have to find her…” Li Yuanzhuang muttered to himself, his trembling legs slowly steadying.

In his state of extreme tension, even his own breathing sounded loud. His anxious eyes scanned every corner of the pediatric ward, searching for any trace of her. His heart raced with dread—eager to find her, terrified of what he might find.

Tap—

Suddenly, a crisp sound came from behind the door. Li Yuanzhuang froze, breath held.

Slowly, he lifted his gaze. In the reflection of the glass cabinet, he saw a slender figure holding an umbrella, standing silently outside the door. A silk dress cinched at the waist outlined her full, alluring curves. Beneath the umbrella’s brim, a dignified oval face stared calmly at him.

“What are you doing?” Feng Yu said softly.

“I…” Li Yuanzhuang started to answer—when suddenly, an uncontrollable impulse surged through his mind.

The moment he saw the woman’s reflection in the glass, Li Yuanzhuang inwardly believed one thing: he must kill her.

His instincts screamed: he must kill her—no matter the cost, by any means necessary.

Li Yuanzhuang clenched his teeth and lunged at Feng Yu.

Then came a sharp sound—the click of high heels on tile. The LED light spilled gently downward, casting Li Yuanzhuang’s shadow onto the floor.

Feng Yu extended one leg. The tip of her high-heeled shoe pressed lightly onto Li Yuanzhuang’s shadow.

Li Yuanzhuang was dead.

His body fell from midair, collapsing onto the floor in the same eerie, chasing posture—utterly lifeless.

“That was close…” Feng Yu patted her chest, vowing never again to risk appearing to question someone.

She could not tell whether he was normal—or a person possessed by a ghost, trying to kill her. The only safe choice was to kill them all.

(End of Chapter)