A bizarre and terrifying experience; I messed up the dungeon world.

"Let's go." Han Yingying tugged at him.

Third floor, room 312.

The room wasn't big; it had two beds, a table, and a window. From the window, you could see the hospital's inner courtyard, where there was a tree with most of its leaves gone, its branches bare and reaching towards the sky.

Zhao Qiang put down his luggage, sat on the bed, and bounced it a few times. "This bed is harder than the one in the manor."

"The beds in the manor are for ghosts to sleep in," Zhou Lang said.

"...So who sleeps in these beds?"

No one answered him.

Zhou Lang stood by the window for a while, looking down at the courtyard. There was a person under the tree, wearing a white coat, standing there without moving or looking up, just standing there, as if waiting for something.

"There's a loophole in the rules of this instance," Zhou Lang said.

Zhao Qiang and Han Yingying both looked over.

"Article 3 says that medical staff should not be interfered with in their work, but it does not say that they cannot be observed."

Han Yingying: "So?"

"So we can watch, but we can't act. At least not until we understand the situation."

The person in the white coat downstairs finally moved.

He looked up and gazed towards the third floor.

The distance was too far to see the face clearly, but Zhou Lang had a gut feeling that the person was looking at him.

At 9 p.m. sharp, the ward rounds began.

A young nurse came in, pushing a cart with a thermometer, a blood pressure monitor, and some bottles and jars. She entered, smiling, "Let me take your temperature and blood pressure."

The smile was very precise, like it was trained.

Zhao Qiang obediently extended his hand, and the nurse took his blood pressure, recorded the reading, and then it was Zhou Lang's turn.

Zhou Lang extended his wrist, and the nurse tied the cuff on and began inflating it.

Zhou Lang looked down at the car. Several boxes were placed in the lower compartment; the boxes were white medical-grade and had labels, but the labels were handwritten and the handwriting was very messy. Zhou Lang only recognized one word:

"sample."

The nurse removed the cuff and recorded, "Your blood pressure is normal." She pushed the cart towards the door, paused at the door, and said, "By the way, there's something I need to remind you. There might be some noise tonight, but don't worry about it; it's just routine maintenance."

"What's going on?" Zhao Qiang asked.

The nurse said, "It's not serious, it won't affect your rest."

She went out and closed the door.

Zhao Qiang turned to Zhou Lang, "Inspection?"

"It's not a maintenance check."

"I don't think so either." Han Yingying sat up from the other bed. "When she said that, she wasn't looking at us; she was staring at the doorway."

Zhou Lang turned off the lights, leaving only a little light coming in from the window, enough to make out the outlines but not the details.

"Let's go out and take a look before ten o'clock."

Zhao Qiang: "...The rules say we can't leave the ward after 10 o'clock, but it doesn't mean we can't go out before 10 o'clock, right?"

"right."

"Shall we go out now?"

"It's still early to go out now, let's wait until 9:30."

Zhao Qiang lay back down, staring at the ceiling. "The rules of this dungeon seem even harder to follow than the last one. At least they knew where the ghosts were at the manor, but here..."

"It's more troublesome here," Han Yingying said, "because the eeriness here exists even during the day, only it's weaker. Once the conditions are triggered, it can change at any time."

"So we need to figure out the situation before they change."

"right."

The three of them quieted down and waited.

At 9:20, there was movement in the corridor.

It wasn't the sound of maintenance work, but footsteps—many people, but their steps were synchronized, as if they were acting in unison. Zhou Lang opened the door a crack and looked out.

In the corridor, medical staff lined up and walked towards the end of the corridor without speaking or exchanging words. Their steps were synchronized and their pace was uniform, as if they were being pulled together by the same thread.

At the end of the corridor was a corner; they turned the corner and disappeared.

Zhou Lang opened the door and followed.

Han Yingying and Zhao Qiang followed closely behind.

The three of them walked along the wall to the corner, and Zhou Lang peeked out.

Behind the corner was a narrower corridor, at the end of which was a large door. The door was open, and the medical staff filed in. After they went in, the door was closed.

There was no "No Entry" sign on the gate.

Zhou Lang walked over and pressed his ear against the door.

There was a sound inside, a deep sound, like someone was talking, but the content was unclear, only the rhythm could be heard, like someone was reciting something, with fixed pauses, like some kind of ritual.

Zhao Qiang also leaned in and listened for a while, then asked, "What are they doing?"

"have no idea."

"Shall we go in?"

Zhou Lang glanced at the door, then at his watch; it was 9:28.

"No," he said. "There's not enough time, and we don't know what's going on inside. If we go in and can't get out, we'll be trapped."

Zhao Qiang breathed a sigh of relief. "I knew it. It's better not to go in than to go in."

Han Yingying: "But we must remember this location and come to explore it during the day tomorrow."

"right."

The three returned to the corridor and started walking back.

Halfway there, Zhou Lang stopped.

There was a person in the corridor, not a medical worker, but an old man in a hospital gown, sitting on a chair with a book in his hand. He saw Zhou Lang, put down the book, and nodded.

"You've come out too," the old man said calmly, as if he were talking about the weather.

Zhou Lang, "Are you a player?"

"no."

Zhao Qiang took half a step back.

"I am a patient here, a real patient, not a ghost." The old man closed the book. "I've lived here for six years."

Han Yingying, "Six years?"

"Yes, when I came here six years ago, this was a normal hospital." The old man looked up, the cold light from the corridor shining on his face. "But it stopped being normal afterward."

Zhou Lang, "Do you know what happened?"

The old man glanced at him. "You're here to find out the truth?"

"I guess so."

The old man was silent for a moment. "I know part of it. But you have to tell me first whether you can take me out of here."

Zhao Qiang whispered, "Is he an NPC or a real person?"

Zhou Lang didn't answer because he wasn't sure either. In these kinds of instances, some NPCs are designed to provide crucial information, while others are traps specifically designed to lead players astray.

"What's your name?" Zhou Lang asked.

"Lin Shou," the old man said, "Six years ago, I was an ordinary patient here. I came in for treatment, and then I never got out."

"Why can't we get out?"

"Because I know too much." Lin Shou placed the book next to the chair. "Fang Zhengde, do you know this person?"

"The founder of the hospital."

"Yes," Lin Shou said. "He's dead, but he's still here."

At the end of the corridor, the door made a slight noise, as if something was moving inside.

Zhou Lang glanced at his watch; it was 9:52.

"Let's go back to our room first," he said, "and we'll find you during the day tomorrow."

Lin Shou nodded, picked up the book again, and said, "I'm here every morning. Come find me."

The three returned to room 312, closed the door, and locked it.

Zhao Qiang sat down on the bed. "That old man..."