When I pushed open the glass door of "Chengzetang", I thought I was stepping into an ordinary traditional Chinese medicine clinic.
Bitter almonds mixed with the medicinal scent of agarwood, the mechanical lock of the diagnosis and treatment bed, the wedding ring engraved with the anniversary of his late wife's death on his ring finger - every bit of Cheng Yanzhi's "medical skills" was like a poisoned needle, silently piercing my flesh and blood.
The surveillance camera that disappeared on Wednesday, the fetal abort report in the mezzanine of medical records, the blood-stained nightgown deep in the locker... This prison with the scent of wormwood hides the souls of twenty-three substitutes. When the birthmark on the back of my neck oozed blood under the fire needle, I finally saw the truth clearly——
What Cheng Yanzhi wants to resurrect is not love, but a human sacrifice that spans twenty-three years.
And my seventh cervical vertebra is pointing to the final countdown.
Intention: resurrection, sacrifice.