Milk and Sausages—Not Bad at All

Hospital Ward.

A group of students lay in their beds, murmuring to each other in confusion.

They were still dazed, unable to make sense of what had happened to them.

The doctors said it was an electric shock.

But how could that be true?

They had been perfectly fine—just watching a classmate dance. Curiosity took over, and they joined in.

And then—

Nothing.

Just blackness.

"Li Yuanhao, I touched you and blacked out. Did you do something?"

"Zhou Yuan, stop accusing people!"

"Forget it, the main thing is—why is Chen Yang the only one who didn't end up here with us?"

"Who knows what his deal is."

Just as their confusion swirled around unanswered questions—

Knock.

A voice came from the doorway.

"Hello, classmates. I came to see how you're doing."

Lin Fan stood at the door, holding boxes of milk and sausages.

The room fell silent.

Utterly silent.

The once-lively conversation died instantly.

To them, the most terrifying thing wasn't the hospital itself—

It was the fact that only Chen Yang was perfectly fine.

And now, here he was—smiling, alive and well—bringing gifts.

It was unsettling.

"How are you recovering? You must've been too tired from studying—fell asleep on the floor, just like that."

Lin Fan set the boxes down, opened them, and began handing out the items.

"Here, milk and sausages for you."

He wore that soft, trademark smile.

The student stared at him, stunned. He wanted to refuse—

But somehow, as if controlled by some unseen force, his hand moved on its own and took the offering.

"Uh… thanks."

"No need to thank me. Classmates should help each other. For example, back in Qingshan—"

He stopped himself. He had nearly said too much.

These were normal people.

Not like him.

Better not to scare them.

One milk, two sausages.

That was the standard.

One by one, he handed them out.

"Here you go," he said to Zhang Hao.

Zhang Hao nodded gratefully. "Thanks… really, thank you. Chen-ge, I saw in another group that you beat up Tang Jie at lunch. Is that true?"

Lin Fan answered calmly, "Zhang, I didn't beat him up. I merely had a conversation with him—encouraged him to study hard."

Yeah, right.

Zhang Hao didn't believe a word of that.

"Just a conversation"?

Then why was there a fist-sized dent in a concrete wall?

"Chen-ge… Can I follow you from now on?" Zhang Hao asked with sudden seriousness.

Lin Fan paused, then smiled as understanding dawned.

Ah. He wanted to train alongside him. To seek the path of cultivation.

"Sure. If you want to cultivate, I'll teach you."

Zhang Hao lit up like a Christmas tree.

Chen-ge had let slip his secret.

Cultivation.

Who knew what strange arts lay behind it?

Acupuncture therapy. Galactic rotation. Electric shock treatments...

This ward finished, Lin Fan stood by the door and waved gently.

"Rest well, classmates. I look forward to seeing you back at school."

Another ward.

The moment Lin Fan entered, he began handing out milk and sausages again.

"I don't want it. Take it back."

Yang Zitian scowled, pushing the offering away.

Lin Fan stood silently before him, that same gentle smile on his face.

"You need it."

Yang Zitian opened his mouth, ready to protest—

But his gaze locked with Lin Fan's.

Those eyes.

Calm. Ordinary.

But cold. Terrifyingly cold.

"I said, I—"

"No," Lin Fan interrupted, unblinking. "You need it."

Yang Zitian looked away and took the food without another word.

He bit into the sausage, reluctantly. Drank the milk.

...It was good.

Ding ding.

His phone buzzed. A message from Zhang Hao.

"You better show Chen-ge some respect. He beat the crap out of Tang Jie today."

"No way," Yang Zitian typed back.

"Swear on my life. It's true."

Yang Zitian looked at Lin Fan again—calmly handing out food.

His brain went foggy.

Chen Yang beat up Tang Jie?

That couldn't be right… could it?

"Chen Yang," a girl piped up, "could you open the window? The air in here stinks."

"Of course," Lin Fan replied, still smiling.

Yet… that smile made her skin crawl.

So bright.

And yet so inhuman.

Floor 25.

In a different ward, a gaunt man lay in bed, eyes blazing with fury at the couple standing before him.

"You don't even hide it anymore, do you?" he spat.

"You bring your lover here, to my hospital room—and ask me to sign divorce papers? While I'm like this? You really are heartless."

Li Hu was shattered.

Years spent building his hotpot restaurant—long nights, endless labor—

Only to discover he had cancer. Late-stage.

That was devastating enough.

But to have his wife walk in with another man, asking him to sign away their marriage…

That broke him completely.

"Li Hu, don't be dramatic," the woman sneered, face heavy with makeup, curls stiff from a perm.

"Sign the papers and move on. You're not going to live long anyway."

Beside her stood a pale young man, clearly younger by a decade, smiling smugly as he offered Li Hu a cigarette.

"Here, bro. Smoke up. Life's short. Enjoy it while you can."

"Fine!" Li Hu growled. "Let's see how long you two lovebirds last."

He signed the papers with a shaking hand.

Without a word, the woman put on her sunglasses and walked out with her boy toy.

"Ahhhhh!"

"Why, Heaven?!"

Li Hu collapsed in bed, sobbing in rage and despair.

Then—he looked at the open window.

He climbed out of bed, limping toward it.

"If this is life, then I want no part of it."

Other patients screamed.

"Someone's jumping!"

Eighteenth floor.

Lin Fan had just opened a window when—

His instincts flared.

A hand shot out the window, catching something midair.

Crack!

A sickening noise.

His arm—fractured.

The students in the room gasped, staring at the window.

What was that?

Lin Fan dragged Li Hu inside.

The man, dazed, looked up at him.

"Why… why did you save me?!" he shouted, clutching Lin Fan's shirt.

"I have cancer!"

"My wife cheated on me!"

"Can't you just let me die?!"

Lin Fan looked at him quietly—then handed him milk and a sausage.

"Here. Eat this."

Li Hu stared.

Then suddenly—he collapsed at Lin Fan's feet, sobbing uncontrollably.

Clutching his leg like a child.

This leg had become the harbor of a middle-aged man's shipwrecked soul.

Lin Fan gently patted his balding head.

"Milk and sausages," he said softly, "they're quite good."

(End of Chapter)