Chapter 9 Misery Loves Company

  That mail book is the evidence that all this really happened, but the police ignored it and insisted on closing the case as a self-inflicted injury. Maybe they think a mentally ill person's self-injury case is much easier to deal with than a bizarre homicide case.

  The days in the mental hospital are still relatively easy. The hospital's main approach to our intermittent "illness" is observation and control, of course taking medication is a must. When it's time for medication, everyone lines up in the hall, one by one, to receive their medicine from the nurse. The nurse watches you put the pill in your mouth and swallow, then asks you to open your mouth, lift your tongue, and shines a flashlight inside to make sure there's nothing left, only then will they let you leave. So it's not easy to pretend to take the medication. Unless after taking the medicine, you go to the bathroom and dig out the pill. However, all the bathrooms have surveillance cameras installed above them, if discovered, you'll be locked in a small dark room. For mental patients, control is the top priority, there is no such thing as privacy here.

  At first, the doctor's medication was very strong. I always felt extremely sleepy, and as soon as my back touched the bed, I would fall asleep immediately. Every day, except for taking medicine and sleeping, I couldn't even eat. The only two things I did when I woke up in the middle of sleep were to drink water and go to the toilet, after which I continued to sleep, and my physical strength declined rapidly. Once, I even fainted in the toilet.

  Then, a group of doctors came for consultation, and after discussion, they decided to reduce the dosage of the medicine and slowly help me recover my appetite. After that, life became more relaxed. Every day, apart from eating and exercising, I could also play chess with other patients in the hall.

  Lao Shao is a normal person I dug up here, and he was also misdiagnosed and sent in. The culprit is his wife. In his early years, he did business with his wife and lived a happy life, even having a big fat son. Just when their son was eight years old, he met a woman. The two fell deeply in love at first sight, and soon became lovers. The woman was a stamp collector and asked him to buy all sorts of rare stamps every day. Once, Lao Shao spent 200,000 yuan on a set of Republic-era stamps at an auction for the woman's birthday gift. After his wife found out, she hired thugs to teach the woman a lesson. After the incident, Lao Shao wanted to divorce his wife. Unexpectedly, his wife was well-prepared and contacted a mental hospital to send him in the next day. He stayed there for ten years. These ten years were like calling out to heaven but getting no response, calling out to earth but getting no echo. Because from the moment he was sent in, his wife became the only guardian of this "mental patient", and without her signature, he could never leave.

  I also told him about my bizarre experience, thinking he would be like others and dismiss those things as hallucinations. Unexpectedly, after listening to the story, he smiled mysteriously and said: "Wasn't that album brown with a gold-edged cover, containing very old stamps, many of which had begun to fade, but could still be identified with careful examination?"

  I was startled, had he seen that postal book?

  "How did you know?"

  "Haha, you don't know many things. Let's make a deal, you help me get out of here and I'll tell you the secret of that postal book."

  He's really shameless, using a secret to try to exchange for his own freedom, does he think his family is running the underworld?

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