Diagnosis and Treatment Manual of Strange Stories in Top Tertiary Hospitals

I work in a tertiary hospital, but my patients are not human beings. Locked in the drawer is a medical manual that does not belong to any department. The cover is yellow, the pages turn by themselves, and the pulse frequency is synchronized with the red dot on the back of my hand. There are five types of handwriting written on the manual, and the first four correspond to four case types, each with standardized diagnosis and treatment procedures. The first case: Ward 13 at the end of the emergency corridor. At two o'clock in the morning, the house number disappeared. Opening the door, the interior space is ten times larger than the exterior. The ground is warm, cold white light seeps out from the walls, and there is no light source. The manual outputs the rules, and the overwriting speed becomes slower and slower. The exit condition is half-read and covered in ink. The previous person with a red dot was named Zhao Min. She said something before disappearing: "It's counting me." On the last page of this medical manual, my name is written.