In the corner of the third floor of Kanghe Hospital, there is a forensic clinic with a schedule posted on the door:

Monday, Wednesday: Municipal Public Security Bureau
Tuesday, Thursday: District Public Security Bureau

Of course, that’s just what ordinary people see. In fact, underneath lies another intriguing phrase discreetly concealed beneath the seemingly mundane information.
“Every fifteenth of the month, the Yin guest arrives. No exceptions. Find other arrangements if late.”

On a certain fifteenth of a month, Yin Wushu stood on a black stone by the bridge and shouted at Xie Bai from a distance, “Since you moved to this ghostly place, you haven’t let me in again.”

Xie Bai gripped the door, expressionless, “Is that all?”

Yin Wushu continued, “After all, I’ve raised you with blood, sweat, and tears for nearly a hundred years.”

Xie Bai’s face remained cold, “So what?”

Yin Wushu suggested, “Should we go easy on the door?”

Without a word, Xie Bai raised his hand and with a loud “bang,” slammed the door shut, causing even the stone bridge to shake.
Yin Wushu: “…”

Yin Wushu, dumbfounded and at a loss for words, gazed in disbelief, realizing that his heartfelt plea had been met with an indifferent and powerful rebuke.

In this complex and intricate narrative, we witness the tale of two individuals caught in the clutches of their twisted circumstances. One, the “Lived for too long and accidentally became twisted” pursuer, finds themselves entangled in the web of their own existence. The other, the “Lived too close to that twisted person and couldn’t avoid becoming twisted too” vulnerable and fragile recipient, narratively misleads us with their outward appearance, concealing a deeper fragility within.

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