Before long, they arrived at the mental hospital, secluded among lush mountains and clear waters.
Pan Minghui, who knew the way well, led Ye Wudao to a room. Opening the small window on the door, he said to Ye Wudao, "Ding Ziqiu is locked up inside."
Through the small window, Ye Wudao saw a middle-aged man with a spiritless demeanor sitting motionless in a corner, his body bound by long sleeves specially designed for restraint, seemingly unresponsive to the outside world.
The room imprisoning Ding Ziqiu was padded with soft white fabric in every direction, even the bed was made of the same material, naturally to prevent the patient from committing suicide or self-harm.
Every time he saw Ding Ziqiu in this state, it made Pan Minghui sigh and fear that one day he, too, might end up locked inside. If that were to happen, he'd rather die.
Ye Wudao withdrew his gaze from Ding Ziqiu and said, "Could I ask someone to open the door so we can go in and see him?"