Chapter 29

The washroom had a faint smell of decay—the same as at the gas station. There were only two stalls; one door was broken, hanging crooked on the ground.
Jiang Shan slowly went into the other stall. When her hand touched the door she had a strange feeling—as if the door were soft, hollow inside.
Zhang Wanqiu waited outside. Her voice was gentle. “If you feel unwell, call me.”
Jiang Shan said nothing. She noticed the washroom had no mirror. She had come partly to see how she looked now. That wish was dashed.
Otherwise the washroom seemed no different from an ordinary hospital one—plain, with disinfectant on the sink.
About ten minutes later Jiang Shan came out. Her white socks were still spotless—as if the washroom floor were impossibly clean.
Zhang Wanqiu asked with concern: “How do you feel? Any better?”
She could understand that Jiang Shan had just woken for the second time; she might be unwell in body and mind and needed care.
Jiang Shan asked suddenly: “Where are my clothes and my bag?”
The clothes she had worn before she passed out, and her backpack—all gone.
Zhang Wanqiu paused, then said quickly: “Don’t worry. Your things are stored safely in a locker. We’ll return them when you’re discharged…”
Discharged? Jiang Shan looked at her and said nothing.
Zhang Wanqiu seemed to realize she had misspoken. A flicker of embarrassment crossed her face. She said at once: “If you need anything, tell me. I’ll bring it.”
Jiang Shan wanted her phone—but she didn’t want to tell Zhang Wanqiu.
So she walked back to the ward in silence. She didn’t even know what “checks” they had run while she was out. From Zhang Wanqiu’s manner it was clear she already knew Jiang Shan was terminally ill.
That was all the information Jiang Shan had for now.
“She seems very guarded.”
On the monitor screen, two people in white coats were watching. Even through the heavy screen Jiang Shan’s expression looked grim.
“I think that’s normal. Given what she’s been through, being guarded is normal.” The other person spoke.
“I still can’t believe she was the only one who survived on the mountain… Is the information confirmed?”
And she had survived alone for over five months.
When the news had reached Jingang, everyone had reacted like Zhang Zheng and the others—shocked, disbelieving.
They couldn’t help wondering: was Jiang Shan even “human”?
It was a semi-sealed office, no windows. The nameplate said Observation Room. Three monitors sat on the desk.
In front of the screens stood two doctors in white coats. The younger addressed the older: “Director, this is her cranial scan.”
Director of Songshan Hospital—Director Geng Jianghui. The name Geng Jianghui was legendary in medical circles. He had won the world’s highest medical honour. He was said to have retired from practice years ago because of his age—nearly eighty.
Who would have thought Geng Jianghui would come out of retirement to head this small Songshan Hospital?
The slightly younger man beside him had been, until six months ago, one of the country’s leading professors of biological research, teaching at a top institute, with many breakthroughs to his name—Professor Zhao Qisheng, called the “Shennong” of his day.
In short, both men were national treasures.
Geng Jianghui adjusted his reading glasses and took Jiang Shan’s cranial scan. It clearly showed a large tumour in her brain.
Ten by fifteen. Already alarming.