Chapter 29 — The Physician Who Was Supposed to Be Dead

At 7:14 the next morning, Lu Chen discovered that his clinic had acquired a new service.

Dream interpretation.

He stared at the sign.

Then at his daughter.

Lu Xiaoxiao was standing on a chair with a black marker in one hand.

Below:

CONSULTATION — 50 YUAN

NO CREDIT

CHILDREN FREE IF THEY BRING CANDY

PRETTY AUNTIES DISCOUNT

COLD PRETTY AUNTIE — FREE IF SHE BRINGS STRAWBERRY MILK

There was now another line.

DREAM CHECK — 20 YUAN

Lu Chen slowly closed his eyes.

“No.”

Xiaoxiao looked down.

“Cheap.”

“That is not the problem.”

“Thirty?”

“No.”

“Fifty?”

“We do not interpret dreams.”

She pointed toward him accusingly.

“You did Pretty Auntie dream yesterday.”

“That was a medical symptom.”

“So medical dream check.”

“No.”

Madam Zhou was sitting near the herb cabinet drinking tea.

She nodded thoughtfully.

“Maybe forty yuan.”

Lu Chen looked toward her.

“Why are you negotiating?”

“Business is business.”

“It is my business.”

Xiaoxiao whispered:

“Dictator.”

Lu Chen heard her.

Of course he did.

The clinic door opened.

Jian Wei entered.

Xiaoxiao immediately pointed at him.

“Uncle Jian.”

He stopped.

“What?”

“Five times fee.”

Jian looked toward Lu Chen.

“You told her?”

“I told her nothing.”

Xiaoxiao smiled.

“Six times if complain.”

Jian became very quiet.

Smart man.

Lu Chen removed the dream sign.

Xiaoxiao immediately produced another sheet from behind her back.

He stared.

“Why do you have replacements?”

“Planning.”

Lu Chen suddenly understood how Upper Court must feel.

Jian placed a paper folder on the consultation table.

The humor left his face.

“Luo Wen.”

Lu Chen sat.

“Ordinary records first?”

“Yes.”

“Good.”

Jian looked offended.

“I listened.”

“Occasionally.”

Xiaoxiao nodded from the counter.

“Miracle.”

Jian stared.

“She spends too much time with all of you.”

Lu Chen opened the folder.

The first document was a copied death certificate.

LUO WEN

Male.

Physician.

Declared deceased twenty-seven years earlier.

Cause:

Presumed fatal fall — Yunshan Pass.

Body recovered:

No.

Personal effects:

Walking staff. Medical bag. Torn outer robe.

Identification based on:

Personal belongings and witness testimony.

Witness:

Qin Zhenguo.

Lu Chen’s eyes narrowed.

“Who certified death?”

“A county physician.”

“Still alive?”

“No. Died naturally eleven years ago.”

“Any reason to suspect the certificate?”

“Not from civil records.”

Good.

No conspiracy attached automatically.

Lu Chen turned the page.

“Search report?”

Jian nodded.

“Three days. Landslide zone. Heavy rain. No body.”

“Blood?”

“None recorded.”

“Footprints?”

“Report says tracks ended near the ravine.”

“Could survive?”

Jian shrugged.

“Possible.”

Lu Chen looked at him.

Jian corrected:

“Potentially.”

From upstairs, Xiaoxiao shouted:

“Better!”

Lu Chen stared at the ceiling.

This had gone too far.

The next document was more interesting.

Luo Wen’s medical-license record.

Eastern River Charity Medical Hall.

Seven years of employment.

No disciplinary history.

Specialties listed:

Traditional medicine.

Emergency trauma.

Cardiac pulse disorders.

Then—

Medical continuity systems.

Lu Chen paused.

“That was an official specialty?”

“Apparently not a specialty. Added as an institutional responsibility.”

“By whom?”

“Eastern River board.”

“Names?”

“Most records destroyed in the fire.”

Of course.

“Anything else?”

Jian opened another page.

“Luo Wen left Eastern River on the night of the fire.”

“Officially?”

“Yes.”

“Resignation?”

“No.”

“Termination?”

“No.”

“Just vanished.”

“Yes.”

Then four years later—

presumed dead.

Lu Chen studied the timeline.

Eastern River fire.

Real Pei’s false public death.

Pei secretly investigates for another three years and eight months.

Near the period Pei’s Origin Pulse truly extinguishes—

Luo Wen is also declared dead.

Too close to ignore.

Not enough to conclude.

“Did he and Pei die at the same time?”

“No.”

“How far apart?”

“Less than four months.”

Interesting.

Jian leaned against the table.

“You’re thinking what I’m thinking.”

“That depends.”

“They were working together.”

“Likely.”

“And then they both died.”

“Pei definitely died.”

Jian nodded.

“Luo Wen?”

“We have paperwork.”

“No body.”

“Yes.”

“So?”

“So he was supposed to be dead.”

Not the same thing.

Ruoxi arrived twenty minutes later.

Deng Hu with her.

Neither looked amused.

Lu Chen pointed toward the consultation chair.

“Left hand?”

“Normal.”

“Dream?”

“No.”

“Numbness?”

“No.”

“Sleep?”

“Six hours.”

“Better.”

She stared.

“That sounded like praise.”

“It was an observation.”

“Of course.”

Deng Hu placed a second folder beside Jian’s.

“Luo Jian’s office.”

Ruoxi sat.

“We finally got authorization to open the private locked storage in his former executive suite.”

Lu Chen looked up.

“Former?”

“He still technically has property inside the hospital.”

“But no longer employed?”

“Correct.”

“When did he resign?”

Ruoxi glanced toward Deng Hu.

“Five months and twelve days ago.”

That mattered.

One month after he arranged Ruoxi’s contact with the Wake Plate.

Two months before someone entered Southbank house and attempted Pei’s chest.

“Last verified sighting?”

“Four months and nineteen days ago.”

“Where?”

“Jiangzhou.”

“After that?”

“No confirmed camera image, banking activity, hospital access, or phone activity.”

“Missing-person report?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“He resigned and told staff he was leaving the province.”

“Destination?”

“Not recorded.”

Convenient.

But not proof of foul play.

Lu Chen looked toward Ruoxi.

“The false Wake Plate inscription is approximately three months old.”

“Yes.”

“So it may have been carved after Luo Jian’s last confirmed sighting.”

“May.”

She smiled slightly.

He ignored it.

“So we cannot assume Luo Jian wrote it.”

Deng Hu nodded.

“Correct.”

That separated two actions.

Luo Jian had deliberately arranged Ruoxi’s contact with the original Wake Plate.

But someone else may have later inverted the safety instruction.

Important.

Deng Hu opened the recovered office folder.

Inside were handwritten notes.

Not official reports.

Personal.

Lu Chen read the first page.

QZ — recurrent conduction irregularity.

Qin Zhenguo.

Date:

Seven months ago.

Before Ruoxi’s first dream.

The next line:

Not standard cardiac disease? Pattern appears only after specific recall/stress episodes.

Lu Chen’s eyes sharpened.

Luo Jian had noticed Qin’s heart-memory connection before anyone currently involved.

Ruoxi leaned closer.

“He knew.”

“Yes.”

“How?”

Deng Hu answered.

“Grandfather underwent a routine executive cardiac screening eight months ago.”

Dr. Zhao had probably seen normal results.

But Luo Jian, as former vice president with access to older hospital records, had apparently compared them across years.

Next line:

1998 tracing similar. 2007 similar. 2019 weaker. Current stronger again.

Lu Chen frowned.

“Old episodes.”

Ruoxi nodded.

“Grandfather mentioned palpitations for decades.”

Luo Jian had tracked them.

Another note:

Three-line artifact? Father warned of late migration.

Silence.

There.

His father.

Luo Wen had told him something.

Jian moved closer.

“Read the rest.”

Lu Chen did.

If the Keeper’s heart begins carrying the Covenant, succession becomes unsafe.

Then:

Father’s instruction incomplete.

Interesting.

Find Wake Plate. Do not activate without Keeper Physician.

Everyone stopped.

Ruoxi’s expression cooled.

“He knew he wasn’t supposed to activate it.”

“Yes.”

Next line.

Different date.

Two weeks later.

Keeper Physician unavailable. LT presumed dead. Pei dead. Father gone.

LT.

Lu Tianhe.

So Luo Jian knew who had inherited medical responsibility.

Or thought he did.

Then:

If QZ dies suddenly, designated successor may receive a broken transfer.

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from NovelPhoenix. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Another line:

Waiting may be more dangerous than waking.

Ruoxi’s expression hardened.

“He decided.”

“Yes.”

Without her consent.

Without Qin’s.

But perhaps believing he was preventing something worse.

Lu Chen kept reading.

Need controlled partial wake only. One line. No second stage.

He looked toward Ruoxi’s palm.

One completed line.

Exactly.

Jian exhaled.

“So he intended only partial activation.”

“Appears so.”

“Then he wasn't trying to complete succession.”

“Not according to this.”

Ruoxi’s voice remained cold.

“He still manipulated me.”

“Yes.”

No excuse.

Intent changed context.

Not action.

The next page explained Hanmei.

Wake Plate surface unreadable through hospital shielding. Need Meridian Conduction equipment.

There.

Ruoxi looked toward Lu Chen.

“Hanmei.”

“Yes.”

Another line:

Qinghe acquisition gives access to old Hanmei vendor architecture. Avoid hospital IT.

Su Qingyue’s company had acquired Hanmei eleven months ago.

Luo Jian had exploited that old infrastructure.

Not necessarily with Su’s knowledge.

Almost certainly without it.

Then:

Shen Yao account still active in vendor layer. Impossible. Do not use.

Lu Chen stopped.

Dead Hanmei founder.

The same dead credential associated with the Northern House acquisition.

Jian frowned.

“He noticed?”

“Yes.”

The next line was underlined:

Someone else is already inside.

Silence.

That mattered.

Luo Jian had discovered the dead Shen Yao account being used before he activated Ruoxi.

Another note:

If I report through normal compliance, whoever owns root access will know I found it.

Ruoxi’s expression changed.

“So he went around the system.”

“Looks that way.”

“Using Hanmei Facilities.”

“Yes.”

“But if he refused the dead account, how did he authorize the contractor?”

Deng Hu opened the next document.

“His own hospital authority.”

Good.

No stolen name needed.

“Second approval?”

Deng Hu’s face tightened.

“Shen Yao.”

Dead credential.

So someone else had co-approved his request.

Luo Jian may not even have requested that second approval.

The vendor system could have appended it.

Or someone saw what he was doing and facilitated it.

That changed the picture.

Lu Chen continued reading.

A later page.

Date:

The day before Ruoxi touched the Wake Plate.

Partial wake tomorrow. Successor designation confirmed: Qin Ruoxi.

How had he confirmed?

Another line answered.

Family plaque record copied 18 years ago by Father.

Luo Wen.

So Luo family had kept parallel monitoring records.

Then:

Do not tell QR until after contact. She may refuse.

Ruoxi’s expression became very cold.

Jian muttered:

“That is bad.”

“Yes,” Lu Chen said.

Not hiding it.

Luo Jian knew consent might be refused.

He proceeded anyway.

Another line:

If she refuses afterward, deactivation may still be possible before procedural dreams stabilize.

So he thought he could reverse it.

Then:

Need Keeper Physician within 30 days.

Thirty days.

But Lu Tianhe was absent.

Pei dead.

Luo Wen gone.

No keeper physician.

Why proceed?

Next page.

The writing became rougher.

No choice?

Question mark.

Not certainty.

QZ conduction worsened again.

If sudden arrest occurs, Covenant may fragment.

Then:

Wake one line. Find physician afterward.

Wrong order.

But understandable fear.

Medicine performed by someone who was not the physician responsible.

Exactly the kind of decision Lu Chen disliked.

Ruoxi closed her eyes.

“He gambled with me because he was afraid Grandfather would die.”

“Yes.”

No prettier wording.

“Was he right?”

Lu Chen considered carefully.

“About the risk to Qin?”

“Possibly.”

She sighed.

“About waking me?”

“No.”

That surprised everyone.

Lu Chen continued.

“He did not know enough.”

“But if Grandfather died?”

“He still did not know enough.”

Silence.

“A dangerous situation does not make an unverified treatment correct.”

Dr. Zhao would approve.

Ruoxi nodded slowly.

Good.

The last handwritten page was dated the day after Ruoxi’s contact.

One line only. Successful. No immediate symptoms.

Then:

Need monitor dreams.

Then:

Do NOT expose second time.

So Luo Jian knew further activation would be dangerous.

Three weeks later:

QR reports? Cannot ask directly without revealing procedure.

He had trapped himself.

Because he had acted without consent, he could not safely monitor the patient without confessing.

Stupid.

Predictable.

Another line:

Find Lu Tianhe.

Then:

No reliable trail.

Later:

Find Lu Chen?

Everyone became still.

Ruoxi looked toward him.

Lu Chen read the next line.

Valley disciple presumed dead. Rumors unreliable.

This was months before Lu Chen became visible to Qin.

Before Qin Zhenguo collapsed.

Luo Jian had been searching for him.

Interesting.

Another line:

If Ghost Physician survived, he may see the Covenant structure.

So Luo Jian knew something of Lu Chen’s ability.

Not necessarily Life Meridian details.

Enough.

Then:

Do not approach until identity verified. Too many dead names walking.

Lu Chen’s eyes narrowed.

He understood the problem.

Luo Jian had inherited the same paranoia.

Perhaps for good reason.

Ruoxi leaned back.

“So he was not simply working for whoever wants the chest.”

“Evidence no longer supports that simple version.”

“But he might still be.”

“Yes.”

Jian looked toward the notes.

“He woke her to preserve the Covenant.”

“According to his own writing.”

“Could be staged.”

“Yes.”

Ruoxi looked at Lu Chen.

“You agree with everything today.”

“No.”

“Feels unnatural.”

He ignored her.

Deng Hu removed a final item.

A small envelope.

Unsealed.

Addressed by hand:

If I disappear, give this to Qin Zhenguo.

Ruoxi became very still.

“Who found it?”

“In the false bottom of Luo Jian’s desk.”

“Why didn’t hospital staff?”

“They didn’t know the compartment existed.”

“Open?”

“It’s addressed to Grandfather.”

She looked toward Lu Chen.

“His decision.”

Good.

They left immediately.

Qin Zhenguo was eating congee when they arrived.

He looked at the envelope.

Then at Ruoxi.

“Luo Jian?”

“Yes.”

“His handwriting?”

Deng Hu nodded.

“As far as we can verify.”

Qin looked toward Lu Chen.

“Can I open it?”

“It is paper.”

Qin stared.

“That was almost a joke.”

“Open it.”

He did.

One sheet.

Several paragraphs.

Qin read silently.

His expression changed.

Not enough for Lu Chen to intervene.

Heart rate remained 63.

Good.

Then the old man looked at Ruoxi.

“I’m sorry.”

Her eyes narrowed.

“What?”

He handed her the paper.

She read.

Then passed it to Lu Chen.

Old Master Qin,

If you are reading this, I either left willingly or failed to leave at all. Do not assume which.

Reasonable.

Your heart is carrying more of the Covenant than my father said it should. I found the same pattern in old tracings going back decades. I believe the seal migrated gradually and is now interfering with conduction.

Accurate.

I searched for the Keeper Physician. Pei Mingshan is dead. Lu Tianhe cannot be found. The disciple called Ghost Physician may also be dead.

At the time, plausible.

I chose to partially wake Ruoxi.

Qin’s hand tightened.

I did not ask her.

Good.

No avoidance.

That was my decision. If it harmed her, blame me rather than the Covenant.

Ruoxi said nothing.

The letter continued.

I activated only the first succession line. I believed this would preserve continuity if your heart failed before I found a physician capable of separating the seal safely.

Then:

I may have been wrong.

Important.

My father warned me that fear makes physicians confuse preparation with treatment. I understood the sentence only after I had already acted.

Lu Chen paused.

Luo Wen sounded like a physician.

Maybe.

The letter continued.

If Ruoxi begins dreaming, do not complete succession.

There.

Original instruction confirmed.

Especially do not open Pei’s chest because of those dreams.

Qin looked toward Ruoxi.

The false plaque message had deliberately inverted Luo Jian’s own warning too.

Next:

Someone inside Hanmei is using Shen Yao’s dead authority. I do not know whether this is related to Upper Court, the people who controlled Patient Two, or another group.

Good.

Uncertainty preserved.

Then:

I found the same root access touching three things: the Northern House acquisition, Meridian Conduction archives, and my request to expose the Wake Plate.

Everyone became still.

There was the convergence.

Su Qingyue.

Qin Ruoxi.

Luo Jian.

One hidden root-access actor had touched all three.

Not necessarily same as First Infiltrator.

Not necessarily Registrar.

But connected.

The next line:

If anything happens to me, do not search my hospital files first. They are already compromised.

Too late.

But they had his paper notes.

Good.

Then:

Ask my father what Pei died trying to protect.

Silence.

Qin looked confused.

Ruoxi looked toward Lu Chen.

“His father?”

“Luo Wen.”

“But Luo Wen is dead.”

“Supposedly.”

The letter continued.

If my father is truly dead, then burn this letter and trust no instruction carrying his name.

Jian’s expression hardened.

Identity theft again.

Then final line:

If he is alive, tell him he was right about the fourth patient.

Silence.

Lu Chen read it twice.

Fourth patient.

They only knew:

Eastern River first emergency patient: real Pei.

Second emergency patient: First Infiltrator under Pei identity.

What third?

What fourth?

Not known.

And apparently Luo Wen had been right about one of them.

Qin Zhenguo looked toward Lu Chen.

“Do you know what that means?”

“No.”

Good.

One clean answer.

Ruoxi took out her phone.

“I’m calling Su Qingyue.”

Lu Chen looked at her.

“Why?”

“Hanmei root access.”

Valid.

Su answered after two rings.

“What happened?”

Ruoxi put her on speaker.

“We found evidence that the dead Shen Yao account touched three projects.”

“Which?”

“Northern House acquisition.”

A pause.

“You knew that.”

“Meridian Conduction archive.”

“I knew.”

“And Luo Jian’s Wake Plate contractor request.”

Silence.

Longer.

Su’s voice became colder.

“When?”

“Six months ago.”

“Send me the records.”

“Secure channel.”

“Yes.”

“Not Qinghe internal?”

“No.”

Good.

Su continued:

“I had Lin Yue isolate the old Hanmei vendor environment yesterday.”

Lu Chen looked toward the phone.

“Anything?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“Two root sessions should not exist.”

“Dates?”

“One eight months ago.”

Northern House acquisition.

“Second?”

“Three months ago.”

The Southbank chest intrusion.

Everyone exchanged looks.

Ruoxi asked, “Location?”

“Masked.”

“Useful.”

“Not completely. Both sessions touched an abandoned Hanmei disaster-recovery server.”

“Physical location?”

Su paused.

“Qin Medical Center.”

Silence.

Lu Chen’s expression hardened.

“Inside the hospital?”

“Old leased server room in B3. Hanmei used it years before Qinghe acquired the company.”

B3.

The same level where Deng Hu found the Wake Plate hidden in an unused archive cabinet.

Not proof of who.

But the infrastructure was converging physically.

Su continued:

“I have not sent anyone there.”

“Good.”

“I assumed you would say that.”

“We inspect together.”

“Tomorrow?”

Lu Chen considered.

“After we understand Luo Wen.”

Su paused.

“Who?”

Ruoxi answered.

“Luo Jian’s father.”

That conversation became longer.

Much longer.

By the end, Su said only:

“Send me the photograph.”

Ruoxi did.

Several seconds passed.

Then Su spoke.

“I’ve seen that man.”

Everyone froze.

Lu Chen immediately said:

“Where?”

“Not personally.”

Good.

“Photo?”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Hanmei Meridian Conduction archive.”

Silence.

Su continued:

“There is an old image tagged Consultant W.”

“Date?”

“Approximately twenty years ago.”

Jian stood.

“Twenty?”

Ruoxi looked sharply at the phone.

“That is seven years after Luo Wen was declared dead.”

“Yes.”

There.

The title fulfilled.

Not proof yet.

A photograph could be mislabeled.

A face could be copied.

But the timeline mattered.

“Send it,” Lu Chen said.

The image arrived.

Black-and-white scan.

Later than the Eastern River photograph.

A laboratory room.

Old meridian-conduction equipment.

Three researchers.

One older man standing at the edge.

Thin.

Gray at the temples.

Physician’s hands folded behind his back.

Face unmistakably similar to Luo Wen’s old personnel photograph.

But Lu Chen did not trust faces.

He zoomed in.

Left hand.

Ring.

Plain silver.

Three engraved lines.

Same Witness Physician ring.

Ruoxi whispered:

“Could be copied.”

“Yes.”

Jian leaned closer.

“Anything else?”

Lu Chen studied the image.

There.

The older man’s right index finger.

Slight deformity at the distal joint.

Old injury.

In the Eastern River photograph—

same.

Better.

Still not Origin Pulse proof.

But multiple physical continuities.

Su said:

“The note attached to the photo is more interesting.”

“Read it.”

Paper rustled through the speaker.

Then:

Consultant W rejected live-subject transfer trial.

Lu Chen’s eyes narrowed.

Su continued:

Stated Meridian Conduction Project was repeating ‘Eastern River mistake.’

Silence.

Next line:

Consultant removed from project after dispute with founder Shen Yao.

So twenty years ago, someone believed to be Luo Wen had opposed Hanmei experimentation.

That complicated the history further.

Ruoxi asked:

“Can you verify when the image was created?”

“Original file predates Qinghe acquisition by decades. Metadata is partially corrupted, but the physical scan was catalogued seventeen years ago.”

So not recent fabrication.

Could still be forged then.

But less likely.

Su continued:

“There is one handwritten annotation.”

“Whose?”

“Unknown.”

“Read it.”

A pause.

Then:

W says the Fourth Patient is still alive.

No one moved.

Same phrase.

Luo Jian’s letter:

Tell him he was right about the fourth patient.

Twenty-year-old Hanmei note:

Fourth Patient is still alive.

This was not an accidental phrase.

It referred to something specific.

Something from Eastern River.

Something preserved across generations.

Lu Chen looked toward Qin Zhenguo.

The old man had gone pale.

His heart rate dropped.

Dr. Zhao moved.

Lu Chen was already beside him.

“Do not chase it.”

Qin grabbed Lu Chen’s wrist.

“I’m not.”

His eyes had become distant.

Memory returning on its own.

“Four beds.”

Everyone froze.

“What?”

Qin breathed slowly.

The rate held at 55.

“Eastern River.”

A fragment.

“Night of the fire.”

Lu Chen said nothing.

Qin continued.

“Pei was not the only person they brought out.”

Silence.

Jian stepped closer but did not speak.

“Second man…”

Qin’s brow tightened.

Patient Two.

Probably.

“Third…”

His heart slowed.

Lu Chen immediately said:

“Stop.”

Qin shook his head.

“No.”

“Old Master Qin.”

“I see it.”

Rate:

Dr. Zhao prepared medication.

Lu Chen placed two fingers at Neiguan.

Tiny Life Essence support.

“Do not force the name.”

Qin breathed.

“Not name.”

“What?”

“A child.”

Silence.

Ruoxi’s face changed.

“Child?”

Qin’s memory came in fragments.

“Covered.”

“Small.”

“Not infant.”

“How old?” Lu Chen asked carefully.

Qin’s face tightened.

“I don’t know.”

“Then don’t guess.”

Good.

Qin continued:

“Third bed.”

A child.

Unknown.

Not Xiaoxiao.

Thirty-one years ago.

Obviously not.

Important to prevent accidental connection.

“Fourth?”

Everyone waited.

Qin’s heart rate stabilized.

Then the old man whispered:

“Empty.”

Jian frowned.

“Empty?”

Qin shook his head.

“No.”

His expression became afraid.

“Someone was there.”

“Who?”

“I couldn’t see.”

“Why?”

“The bed…”

His hand trembled.

“…looked empty.”

Lu Chen’s eyes sharpened.

“What made you know someone was there?”

Qin looked toward him.

“Pulse.”

Silence.

“Whose pulse?”

“I don’t know.”

“No name?”

“No.”

“Face?”

“No.”

“Body?”

Qin swallowed.

“No body.”

Ruoxi whispered:

“How can there be a patient without a body?”

Lu Chen looked toward the Third Bell mystery.

Toward Su Qingyue’s frost footprints.

Toward Gate resonance.

But he did not combine them.

Not yet.

Qin continued.

“Luo Wen was kneeling beside the empty bed.”

His voice shook.

“He kept saying…”

The monitor dipped.

“Enough,” Lu Chen said.

Qin stopped.

Breathing.

The memory receded.

Heart rate returned.

Dr. Zhao exhaled.

Qin closed his eyes.

Ruoxi leaned closer.

“What was he saying?”

Qin shook his head.

“Gone.”

“Do not chase it,” Lu Chen said.

She stopped.

Good.

But they had enough.

Eastern River had not held only two important patients.

At least four beds were involved.

One real Pei.

One First Infiltrator.

One unidentified child.

One apparently empty bed that Luo Wen treated as occupied.

The Fourth Patient.

And twenty years ago—

Luo Wen had apparently insisted that patient was still alive.

That afternoon, they returned to the clinic.

No ancient chamber.

No Gate.

No chest.

Just paper.

Lu Chen preferred paper.

Mostly.

Deng Hu spread everything across the consultation table.

Eastern River staff photo.

Luo Wen death certificate.

Luo Jian notes.

Hanmei Consultant W image.

Quiet Heart Covenant record.

Two timelines.

Xiaoxiao wandered over.

“Homework?”

“Adult homework.”

“Boring.”

“Yes.”

She looked at the photographs.

Pointed at Luo Wen.

“Same old man?”

Ruoxi almost answered.

Lu Chen said:

“Maybe.”

Xiaoxiao stared.

He sighed.

“Potentially.”

“Better.”

Then she pointed to the later Hanmei photograph.

“He got older.”

“Yes.”

“Then not dead?”

“Photographs can lie.”

She frowned.

“Pictures bad.”

“Sometimes.”

She moved to the staff photo again.

“Who’s this?”

“Luo Wen.”

“This?”

“Pei Mingshan.”

“This?”

“Master.”

“This?”

“Ye Canglan.”

She pointed at young Qin Zhenguo.

“Grandpa Qin had hair!”

Everyone laughed.

Even Qin, listening by video call.

Good.

The tension broke.

Xiaoxiao looked at the photos again.

Then asked:

“Where’s Luo Wen’s son?”

“Not born into this photo,” Ruoxi said.

Xiaoxiao accepted that.

Then:

“If his daddy was doctor, why son wakes people without asking?”

Silence.

Ruoxi looked at Lu Chen.

He answered his daughter.

“Knowing medicine and making the right decision are different.”

Xiaoxiao thought.

Then nodded.

“Like Daddy apple rabbit.”

Jian laughed so loudly he had to leave the room.

Lu Chen looked at his daughter.

“That is unrelated.”

“It was bear.”

Hostile environment.

Later, Lu Chen called Fan Qingshu.

“Fourth Patient.”

Silence.

Fan did not joke.

“You found that phrase.”

“Yes.”

“Where?”

“Luo Jian letter. Hanmei archive. Qin memory.”

Long silence.

“Senior Uncle.”

“I’m thinking.”

“What do you know?”

“Very little.”

“Say it.”

Fan’s voice lowered.

“After the Eastern River fire, four emergency continuity numbers were created.”

“We found first and second.”

“Yes.”

“What was third?”

“Sealed.”

“Fourth?”

“Erased.”

Lu Chen’s expression sharpened.

“By whom?”

“I don’t know.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Was it a person?”

Silence.

Fan answered carefully:

“I never saw the case.”

“Then?”

“I saw the index.”

“What did it say?”

“Patient One: Pei Mingshan.”

“Yes.”

“Patient Two: identity conflict.”

First Infiltrator.

“Patient Three?”

“Minor.”

Minor.

An unidentified child.

“Name?”

“Sealed.”

“Patient Four?”

Fan exhaled.

“No name.”

“What classification?”

Another pause.

Then:

“Present without body.”

The room became quiet.

Exactly what Qin had remembered.

“What does that mean medically?”

“I never knew.”

“Dead?”

“No.”

“Spirit?”

“Do not jump.”

Good.

“Artifact?”

“Unknown.”

“Gate phenomenon?”

“Unknown.”

“Then why call it patient?”

Fan’s answer came quietly.

“Because Luo Wen insisted it was alive.”

Silence.

There.

“Did Lu Tianhe agree?”

“I don’t know.”

“Pei?”

“Unknown.”

“Ye Canglan?”

“Unknown.”

“Why erase the case?”

“I only saw one later notation.”

“What?”

Fan hesitated.

Then:

“Do not permit Fourth Patient to acquire a name.”

Lu Chen stopped.

That was new.

“Why?”

“I don’t know.”

“Who wrote it?”

“The initials were burned.”

Convenient.

Or deliberate.

Fan continued:

“Lu Chen.”

“Yes?”

“If Luo Wen survived his death record and later worked around Hanmei, he may have been watching whether anyone tried to give the Fourth Patient an identity.”

That connected too closely to Patient Two.

Names.

Recognition.

Identity as access.

But still—

no conclusion.

“What happens if it gets a name?”

Fan answered:

“I do not know.”

For once, that phrase sounded worse than any explanation.

At 8:17 p.m., Su Qingyue arrived at the clinic.

She brought strawberry milk.

Xiaoxiao immediately revised her status.

“Favorite patient.”

Su handed the carton over.

“I was already favorite yesterday.”

“Need maintain.”

Su looked toward Lu Chen.

“Your clinic has aggressive retention practices.”

“Not mine.”

Xiaoxiao pointed toward the sign.

“Business.”

Su almost smiled.

Then she handed Lu Chen a printed packet.

“Consultant W.”

“You found more.”

“Very little.”

He opened it.

Old Hanmei documents.

Twenty years ago.

Consultant W had participated in exactly six meetings.

No payroll.

No employment contract.

No identity documents.

Only handwritten attendance.

He refused three experiments.

Approved none.

Then disappeared from the project.

“What experiments?”

Su sat.

“Identity response to preserved meridian patterns.”

Lu Chen became still.

Hanmei had been studying the same principle as Eastern River.

The continuity system that taught Patient Two to resemble Pei.

“Live subjects?”

“Planned. Not completed according to surviving documentation.”

“Why?”

“Consultant W objected.”

Good.

“Shen Yao?”

“Wanted to proceed.”

“Result?”

“Project formally suspended.”

“Formally.”

“Yes.”

That word mattered.

“What happened afterward?”

“Six years later, it resumed under another name.”

“Which?”

Su turned the page.

Meridian Conduction Project.

The same project Luo Jian later accessed.

There.

The lineage of research.

Eastern River medical continuity technology.

Hanmei.

Luo Wen.

Shen Yao.

Luo Jian.

Patient Two.

Identity copying.

All connected historically.

But not necessarily one organization.

Not yet.

Su pointed to a note.

“This is the last mention of Consultant W.”

Lu Chen read.

W refused to provide Fourth Patient reference sample.

Below:

States sample must never be entered into machine-readable archive.

Pei’s philosophy again.

Keep dangerous information analog.

“Why?” Ruoxi asked.

Su turned another page.

One sentence.

A system cannot imitate what it cannot record.

Silence.

Lu Chen understood.

If the Fourth Patient had no body—or no conventional identity—and no name, entering its pattern into a machine or spiritual archive might create the very recognition it lacked.

Exactly what had happened to Patient Two.

The clinic had recorded Pei.

Then taught another life to become recognizable as Pei.

If Patient Four was something stranger—

recording it might give systems a template.

A name.

A shape.

An identity.

Dangerous.

Maybe.

No conclusions.

Su looked toward him.

“You have the face.”

“What face?”

“The one where you decide not to tell us something because it is only a theory.”

Ruoxi smiled.

“She knows the face too.”

Lu Chen ignored both.

“It is only a theory.”

Su folded her arms.

“Say it.”

He did.

“If Fourth Patient lacked a stable identity, recording it could allow a system to create one.”

Jian frowned.

“Like Patient Two.”

“No.”

“Similar principle?”

“Possibly.”

Xiaoxiao looked up.

Nobody corrected him.

Progress.

Lu Chen continued:

“Patient Two already had a life. The problem was foreign identities attaching to it.”

“And Patient Four?”

“We do not know whether it had a conventional biological life at all.”

Silence.

No one romanticized that.

Good.

Su handed him the last page.

“Someone accessed these documents three months ago.”

Of course.

“Dead Shen Yao account?”

“Yes.”

Same root session.

The night of the Southbank intrusion.

“What did they download?”

“Consultant W notes.”

“Fourth Patient?”

“Yes.”

“And?”

“One old floor plan.”

“Where?”

Su’s expression changed.

“Eastern River Charity Medical Hall.”

Lu Chen became still.

His clinic.

Again.

“What part?”

“The continuity room.”

Under his clinic.

“Anything else?”

“One coordinate.”

He looked up.

“Coordinate?”

“Internal building notation.”

“Which?”

Su pointed.

ROOM 4 — LOWER EAST WALL

Lu Chen slowly looked toward the back treatment room.

Below it—

Elder Fan’s chamber.

And beside that—

the old continuity room they had opened.

Lower east wall.

Fan had heard the voice behind a wall.

Physician… still there?

They had assumed it came through the continuity system.

Perhaps it did.

But the Fourth Patient index suggested something else had once been associated with that exact area.

Jian stood.

“We go down.”

Lu Chen shook his head.

“No.”

Jian stared.

“Why?”

“Because someone downloaded this three months ago.”

“So?”

“If they wanted us to open the east wall—”

Jian stopped.

Exactly.

The enemy had already manipulated one safety instruction to make them open Pei’s chest prematurely.

Maybe they were doing the same thing again.

Su looked toward Lu Chen.

“So we do nothing?”

“No.”

“What?”

“We verify the original floor plan.”

“With?”

“Ordinary municipal records.”

Jian sighed.

“Paper again.”

“Yes.”

“Your war against ancient cultivation will be fought with filing cabinets.”

“Apparently.”

Xiaoxiao raised her hand.

“Paper cuts.”

Everyone looked at her.

She nodded solemnly.

“Dangerous.”

Lu Chen almost smiled.

At 10:02 p.m., Deng Hu called.

Municipal archive.

Original Eastern River construction plan.

Paper.

Stamped thirty-eight years ago.

No digital alteration.

The building had four treatment rooms.

Three above ground.

One below.

But the lower east wall—

was not a room.

It was labeled:

VOID — DO NOT EXCAVATE

Silence.

“Any explanation?” Lu Chen asked.

“No.”

“Architect?”

“Dead.”

“Original owner?”

“Trust dissolved after fire.”

“Any later renovation?”

“One.”

“When?”

“Five years ago.”

Lu Chen’s expression changed.

“When I bought the clinic?”

“Yes.”

“Requested by?”

Deng Hu hesitated.

“Property agent.”

The same agent Master had arranged.

“What work?”

“Reinforcement of lower east wall.”

“Who authorized?”

“Owner’s representative.”

“Name?”

Another pause.

Then:

Luo Wen.

No one spoke.

Lu Chen looked at the date.

Five years ago.

After Luo Wen had supposedly been dead for more than two decades.

After the Valley fell.

Around the period Lu Tianhe was confirmed alive in Jiangzhou.

Around the time Elder Fan was hidden beneath the clinic.

A dead physician’s name had authorized reinforcement beneath Lu Chen’s future home.

Could be forged.

Could be borrowed.

Could be Luo Wen himself.

Names meant nothing without life verification.

But one detail mattered.

The permit had been signed physically.

Deng Hu continued:

“We found the original.”

“In municipal storage?”

“Yes.”

“Fingerprint?”

“Partial.”

“Compare to Luo Wen?”

“No fingerprint records from thirty-one years ago.”

Of course.

“Anything else?”

“Yes.”

“What?”

“A handwritten amendment.”

“Read.”

Deng Hu did.

Do not open lower east void even if continuity bell resumes.

Silence.

Then:

If Lu Tianhe asks, tell him I finally learned to listen.

The room became very quiet.

Jian looked at Lu Chen.

“That sounds personal.”

“Yes.”

The amendment was signed:

L.W.

Five years ago.

Not proof.

But whoever wrote it knew Lu Tianhe personally.

Knew the continuity bell might resume.

And specifically warned against opening the wall.

The unknown root-access actor had just tried to draw their attention to that exact wall.

One instruction said:

Open.

Another said:

Do not.

This time Lu Chen knew what to do.

Nothing.

Not yet.

He looked toward Returning Spring resting beside the clinic table.

Then at the hidden floor.

“Senior Brother.”

“Yes?”

“No one opens that wall.”

Jian nodded.

“No argument.”

Good.

“Deng Hu.”

“Yes?”

“Find everything on the five-year-old reinforcement crew.”

“Already started.”

“Ruoxi.”

She looked up.

“Find out who controlled Remembrance Holdings when the permit was filed.”

“Done.”

“Su.”

“Yes?”

“Lock Hanmei’s old disaster-recovery server without destroying it.”

“I can isolate it.”

“Do that.”

Then everyone waited.

Lu Chen frowned.

“What?”

Ruoxi smiled.

“You’re assigning work.”

“Yes.”

Jian folded his arms.

“Very Valley Master of you.”

“No.”

“Little Valley Master?”

“Leave.”

Xiaoxiao looked up.

“Daddy boss.”

Traitors.

All of them.

Near midnight, the clinic finally became quiet.

Xiaoxiao slept upstairs.

Ruoxi and Su had left.

Jian remained in the guest chair because apparently he had forgotten he owned legs.

Lu Chen sat behind the consultation desk reading Luo Wen’s records again.

Two deaths.

Pei’s false one.

Luo Wen’s uncertain one.

One patient who borrowed names.

Another patient who supposedly had no body.

A system that could teach identity.

A physician who spent decades insisting some things should never be recorded.

Jian broke the silence.

“Do you think Luo Wen is alive?”

Lu Chen looked at the photograph from twenty years ago.

Then the permit from five years ago.

“No.”

Jian raised an eyebrow.

“No?”

“I think there is evidence someone continued acting under Luo Wen’s name.”

“Difference.”

“Yes.”

“Do you think it was him?”

“I don’t know.”

Jian sighed.

“That must physically hurt you.”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Lu Chen ignored him.

Jian became serious.

“If he is alive, he would know what happened to Pei.”

“Yes.”

“Patient Two.”

“Yes.”

“Patient Four.”

“Yes.”

“And Master.”

“Maybe.”

There it was.

Jian’s real interest.

Lu Chen looked at his senior brother.

“You want him alive.”

“Yes.”

“Because of Master.”

“Yes.”

No shame.

Good.

Lu Chen leaned back.

“Then do not make evidence fit that hope.”

Jian was silent.

Then nodded.

“Fine.”

They had all learned that word.

At 12:17 a.m., the old physician bell beneath the clinic rang once.

Both men stood.

Not three knocks.

No frost.

No voice.

Just one bell.

Lu Chen opened Life Meridian perception.

Nothing from the lower east wall.

No route.

No external pressure.

Then his phone vibrated.

Unknown number.

One text message.

No image.

No link.

Only words.

GOOD.

Jian read over his shoulder.

“That is unsettling.”

A second message arrived.

YOU DID NOT OPEN THE WALL.

Lu Chen’s eyes hardened.

Someone knew.

Current monitoring.

A third message.

LU TIANHE ALWAYS OPENED THINGS TOO EARLY.

Jian stopped breathing.

Then:

YOU LEARNED BETTER.

No signature.

Lu Chen typed nothing.

Another message arrived.

IF YOU WANT TO KNOW WHETHER LUO WEN DIED TWENTY-SEVEN YEARS AGO, ASK THE ONLY MAN WHO SIGNED HIS DEATH.

Qin Zhenguo.

Obvious.

But his memory seal made that dangerous.

Then the final message:

DO NOT ASK HIM WHO DIED.

Pause.

ASK HIM WHO WALKED AWAY.

The number disconnected.

Lu Chen stared at the screen.

Jian’s expression had changed.

“Tomorrow?”

“No.”

“Why?”

“Qin’s heart.”

“He is stable.”

“He was stable before remembering the Fourth Patient.”

Jian said nothing.

Lu Chen placed the phone down.

“We do this properly.”

“Dr. Zhao?”

“Yes.”

“Cardiac support.”

“Yes.”

“Memory without forcing.”

“Yes.”

“And if Qin remembers Luo Wen walking away?”

Lu Chen looked toward the hidden floor beneath his clinic.

Then toward the old photograph of a physician who had supposedly died twenty-seven years ago.

“Then we still verify the life.”

Names could lie.

Faces could lie.

Death certificates could lie.

Even memory could lie.

But one thing had held through every stolen identity they had uncovered.

The life beneath the name.

And if Luo Wen had truly survived his own death—

Lu Chen intended to find out why.