Chapter 6 : Puzzle

The scent of antiseptic was overwhelming, thick and clinical in the atmosphere. It adhered to everything, penetrating his skin, suffocating him with its weight. Ren Xiao opened his eyes, yet the surroundings were a haze, the white ceiling whirling above him. His head felt heavy, as though the pressure of the sterile room was pushing him into the bed.

The sharp, relentless beeping of the machines pierced his skull, each sound pulsating through his bones. It was the sort of noise that embedded itself deep in his chest, causing his heart to race as the rhythm seemed to crawl beneath his skin. The pain in his neck was excruciating—each slight movement sent electric shocks of agony throughout his body. It felt as if his skin was stretched too thin, like it could split at any instant. His fingers twitched, the cool air brushing against his hand as he attempted to move but discovered himself too weary to do so.

The faint taste of bitterness remained on his tongue, the flavor of sterile, medicinal chemicals mixed with something slightly metallic, like blood. His throat throbbed, dry, as if he hadn't taken a drink in days. An oppressive silence enveloped him, but it wasn't true silence; it was the type of quiet that suffocates, the interval between the beeps and the noise.

He attempted to shift, but the feeling was incorrect. It wasn't merely the discomfort in his neck—it was the sensation that his body didn't fit here, in this space. He didn't belong here. His body, sore and bruised, felt as if it were still battling something he couldn't recall.

Suddenly, his focus faded. Images of faces—doctors in white coats speeding past him—flashed through his mind, but they were disjointed, like shards of glass. He couldn't grasp any of them, couldn't make sense of them. Only one thought emerged, a single idea that sliced through the haze: Noise. It was excessively loud.

Ren Xiao squeezed his eyes shut, attempting to block it out, but the beeping only intensified, more urgent. His mind, blurry and muddled, couldn't escape the recollections of that place. It felt stifling. Was this a dream? A nightmare? He couldn't determine.

He mused to himself, I thought I would discover peace, only to realize my life has become louder. . . and now, a puzzle left to solve.

Ren Xiao blinked rapidly, as if shaking off the fragments of the past. The classroom gradually came into clarity around him. The faint scent of ink and the gentle scratch of pens on paper were reassuring, a relief from the chaos of his recollections. He glanced down at the sketchbook on his desk, his hand still clutching the edge. His knuckles were white from the tension, and his fingers throbbed as if they had been curled for too long.

A sudden voice broke through the fog of his thoughts.

"Xiao-ge! ! . . . Ge! "

The sharpness of Ling Xia's voice sliced through his daydream like a blade. Ren Xiao blinked, a wave of confusion flooding over him as he gradually raised his gaze to connect with her eyes. She was positioned in front of him, her expression more intrigued than worried. Behind her, Jian Wei stood silently, arms folded, his expression inscrutable yet keen.

Ling Xia's eyes sparkled with playful mischief. "Where were you listening? "

Ren Xiao's vision became clearer, the classroom's inviting light illuminating the space. He shifted awkwardly in his seat, finally realizing that he had drifted away. His mind was still spinning from the flashback, and it took him a moment to completely comprehend what Ling Xia had remarked.

He looked back and forth between them. A sense of disconnection washed over him. What had they been discussing again?

"What were you saying? " Ren Xiao murmured, pretending to be uninterested as he redirected his focus to the desk, clutching the sketchbook more firmly.

Jian Wei's voice, steady and composed, replied without hesitation. "She was talking about Professor Shen. "

At the mention of Professor Shen, something stirred in Ren Xiao's chest. His curiosity ignited, eclipsing the fog of unease still lingering in his mind. Professor Shen…the man who had always regarded him with too much interest, the man who understood things Ren Xiao wasn't ready to confront.

"What about him? " Ren Xiao inquired, his voice soft, nearly revealing a trace of urgency. He couldn't quite identify the feeling, but he recognized that Professor Shen's name was never brought up lightly.

Ling Xia leaned in slightly, her eyes shining with a blend of excitement and intrigue. "Oh, it's nothing significant, really. Just… he's been inquiring about you. All your sketches, your work. He's interested. "

The words settled heavily in the air around them. Ren Xiao's stomach constricted, but he couldn't fully grasp why. There was something about the way she spoke—it seemed almost like an accusation. Or perhaps it was his own guilt surfacing, the sensation that he was being observed, that the barriers around him were tightening once more.

Ling Xia's lips curled into a grin, her gaze unwaveringly fixed on his face. "But you must be aware of that. Everyone in the department chats about it. "

Ren Xiao gazed at her, the gravity of her words pressing down on his chest. She was correct, in some respect. The professors, the ceaseless murmurs—he had sensed them, yet he had always dismissed it. It was simpler to disregard, to bury his thoughts beneath the burden of his sketches.

However, now, with Ling Xia's stare upon him, the past began to seep into the present. Why did Professor Shen want to learn about him? What was his objective?

Ren Xiao moved his head a little, attempting to dispel the mounting whirlwind of inquiries, but he was unsuccessful. It was no longer possible to disregard it at this point. His heartbeat increased, a sense of discomfort washing over him.

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