Judge of Souls - Chapter 72

Sun Yi returned home, feeling terribly hungry. He cooked himself a small bowl of noodles to fill his stomach. Just as he was about to eat with his chopsticks, he felt an inexplicable palpitation and then passed out.

There was a loud “bang” as he fell. The girl who had been lying on the sofa browsing forums put down her phone and came over to check.

Zong Ce made a small sound of surprise, poured a bowl of talisman water down his throat, and grabbed him by the collar with one hand, tossing him onto the bed.

She handled the hundred-and-forty-pound man as easily as if he were a plastic bag. After confirming he was still alive, she went back to playing with her phone.

Not long after, the paper figurine she had sent out to transport something returned. She put her phone on charge, and Sun Yi in the bedroom slowly regained consciousness.

Sun Yi felt strangely empty, as if he had lost something. He had a strong sense of unreality and couldn’t seem to gather his thoughts.

He noticed something was wrong with himself and asked, “What happened to me?”

“That thing in the hospital has been completely destroyed—soul and all,” Zong Ce replied indifferently. “Since it was part of your own soul after all, losing it will affect you somewhat.”

Sun Yi sat on the edge of the bed, motionless for a while. His first thought was to smoke, but he managed to restrain himself.

For a moment, he wondered whether he was truly Sun Yi or Zhao Ta.

He was clearly conscious of being Zhao Ta and remembered all the books he had read and the surgeries he had performed, but his body’s habits were still Sun Yi’s.

Among the three hun and seven po souls, the one hun and six po that controlled bodily functions were all Sun Yi’s. He heard people calling him Director Sun and enjoyed the admiration and support people gave to Sun Yi. Even Zong Ce said that not even a Taoist priest could tell he was Zhao Ta.

Zong Ce laughed. “Who cares who you are? From now on, you are Sun Yi. You can be whatever kind of person you want to be.”

After a moment, Sun Yi spoke again. “Someone came to the hospital today. I felt there was something special about that person’s eyes. It was as if he knew everything.”

Hearing this, Zong Ce burst into laughter. “He’s not a Taoist priest, he’s a Judge!”

Sun Yi looked up in confusion. “What?”

“See, he’s what you would call a god. He’s a Judge,” Zong Ce said as she turned on the television and began changing channels. “If you hadn’t met me first, perhaps he could have helped you seek justice.”

Sun Yi thought for a moment, then said softly, “It’s too late now.”

Zong Ce mocked. “He’s a Judge from the Underworld. How many ghosts are there in the Underworld, and how many people in the mortal realm? Lives are like ants; they don’t care about insignificant beings like us. Everyone has their own fate; he would consider this a matter of timing. Even if he were to intervene now, you might think it’s too late, but he would see it as charity.”

Sun Yi asked. “Will he kill me then?”

“No, don’t worry about him. He doesn’t take lives,” Zong Ce giggled. “Even as a Judge, he can’t distinguish between you and Sun Yi now. If he were to pull your soul out, it would at most result in complete soul destruction, and both of you would die. He won’t do that.”

Sun Yi tried to calm himself.

A noodle commercial was playing on television, which suddenly reminded Sun Yi of his own noodles. He went back to finish his food, then lay down to rest.

****

Chu Xuanliang watched as a cut appeared on Mr. Ye’s stomach, followed by profuse bleeding that soaked a patch of the bedsheet. Eventually, it was slowly stitched back together. He helplessly raised his hand to slap his own face.

After cleaning up the scene a bit and laying the person flat, he decided to slip away first.

Early the next morning, he couldn’t help feeling guilty whenever he heard his phone ring. Such a large man, with so much preparation, and yet he hadn’t been able to keep watch properly. What made it worse was that yesterday he had spoken with such confidence, using both threats and enticements. He felt somewhat ashamed.

He made the bed and decided to catch up on the sleep he’d missed the night before. Just as he lay down, his phone actually rang.

Although they shared the surname Ye, thankfully it was Officer Ye calling, not the other one.

Half an hour later, the two successfully met up.

Officer Ye slammed down a piece of paper triumphantly. “Look what I found out!”

The paper was so light that instead of landing on the table, it was caught by the wind and fell to the floor.

Officer Ye: “……”

Chu Xuanliang bent down to pick it up, smoothed out the paper, and discovered it was a suicide note. After reading a few lines, he corrected his assessment. To be precise, the first half was a letter of accusation, and the second half was a confession.

“This person died over a week ago. The cause of death was suicide by slitting his wrists, but he had a long, deep wound on his abdomen that had been stitched up. Yes, exactly like the one on that guy surnamed Ye. I asked the neighbors and family members—because the deceased had AIDS, his friends and family had distanced themselves from him. He was very reclusive. He normally lived alone with little contact with others. He had been dead for over a week, and the room had started to smell. It was only when a neighbor reported it to the police that this became known.”

In the suicide note, he wrote that he was an AIDS patient.

In the prime of his youth, he had contracted AIDS due to a medical accident. From then on, he had been subjected to contempt and discrimination from all sectors of society.

People around him viewed AIDS as a terrible plague. Even though they knew it couldn’t be transmitted through casual contact, they still refused to shake his hand, hug him, talk to him, or even be in the same vicinity.

Everyone assumed the worst about him and slandered him. Yet he never got a chance to explain himself.

He couldn’t find work, had no friends, no future, and was afraid to go to hospitals. He spent his days just getting by, quietly waiting for death.

Initially, he had just caught a minor cold and went to a nearby unlicensed clinic for an injection treatment, which led to his HIV infection.

It was just a minor cold, and this wasn’t his fault at all.

He wrote that he had once been a person who studied hard, worked diligently, and loved life. His past life trajectory had been smooth, and he had never done anything out of line.

Every night as he lay in bed, he pondered this question: Why was the world so unfair? Why did misfortune befall an innocent person?

He truly could not love this cruel world and cold life.

During one check-up, he encountered a doctor who spoke harshly to him and a nurse who joked about his condition. This triggered an explosion of the dark emotions he had harbored for a long time, and he transferred his hatred to the entire medical community.

One day, someone approached him, hoping he would do something for them, and offered a reward of 200,000 yuan.

At that time, his mind was clouded by hatred, and he agreed. When Doctor Zhao was cleaning his wound, he deliberately pricked the doctor’s hand with a needle, causing him to be exposed to infection.

Afterward, he felt extremely guilty for a period of time. When he heard other nurses expressing dissatisfaction and disgust with Doctor Zhao to patients, he felt a bit of comfort in his heart. He tortured himself with these contradictory feelings daily.

But as time passed, he realized he was wrong, yet it was already too late.

Doctor Zhao’s preventive medication had failed, and he had indeed contracted HIV. In the end, he died in the operating room for unknown reasons.

Then, he too suffered retribution.

He didn’t lack money. He was willing to donate all his money and use his life as the price to formally report the various conflicts and corruptions among the doctors at City Third Hospital. He only hoped that Doctor Zhao could forgive him.

At the same time, he believed that Doctor Zhao’s cause of death was suspicious. Someone must have switched his preventive medication, leading to his infection. Whether his death in the operating room was suicide or murder was also worth questioning. He hoped his own death would attract attention from all sides and prompt a thorough investigation into the cause of death.

It was evident that by the end of writing, he was in tears. The ink on the paper had blurred, and the surface was uneven.

After reading it, Chu Xuanliang was deeply moved.

A person who had fallen into the abyss of despair wanted to drag others into that same abyss, but in the end, he had killed an innocent and kind doctor.

He held the paper for a long time, unable to calm down, momentarily at a loss for words.

Officer Ye said, “He posted the contents of his suicide note online. However, because his account had such little traffic, nobody saw it. Now the media has dug it up and started to hype it, and there’s beginning to be some ripples online.”

Chu Xuanliang: “What about Doctor Zhao’s cause of death? Who was it that repeatedly tried to force him out, even using such methods to murder him?”

“We’re investigating. The police aren’t gods; we only just received the suicide note this morning. Our colleagues are conducting person-by-person screening at the hospital,” Officer Ye said. “But you know, hospitals are special places. How many patients are there, how many surgeries are performed every day—even a slight delay could cost lives. If the hospital doesn’t cooperate, public officials don’t dare to push too hard. The two sides are still arguing, so progress isn’t very fast. I wanted to find you to summon the ghost of the deceased to ask for some clues, which might help narrow down our search.”

Chu Xuanliang casually scrolled through his phone and discovered that the matter had become a trending topic. The key phrase was #HospitalCorruption#.

Half an hour ago, an interview recording from a traditional print media journalist had leaked. The video featured staff currently working at the Third Hospital—a doctor and a nurse. Neither of their faces were blurred, and they even had their ID badges displayed in front.

That doctor was Sun Yi.

Sun Yi produced several documents, stating that while he truly didn’t know the cause of Doctor Zhao’s death, during his time at the hospital, Doctor Zhao had consistently faced unfair treatment.

The catalyst was that the hospital wanted to replace a locally produced, low-price common medication with a newly developed, high-priced one. Doctor Zhao opposed this and indicated that if the hospital forcibly implemented this change, he would expose and report the hospital’s actions. He used various means to obstruct and delay the policy’s implementation, thereby offending many interested parties, including but not limited to the hospital’s management.

There were also various other behaviors that made the hospital very dissatisfied.

After Doctor Zhao’s death, he had tried to prevent this implementation and signed a statement of opposition. Unfortunately, his personal opinion was not enough to influence the hospital’s decision. His signed opinion was on record.

When he saw the patient’s suicide note, he felt extremely shocked and saddened. So he decided to expose this matter, which could also be seen as fulfilling Doctor Zhao’s last wish. If his death was indeed related to the hospital, he hoped the perpetrators would be severely punished.

Because it involved public healthcare, and the media had portrayed Doctor Zhao as a selfless, righteous figure, there was an explosion of public opinion online that was now difficult to control.

Chu Xuanliang had just read a couple of sentences when Officer Ye grabbed the phone with a shocked expression and exclaimed, “Damn! What kind of people are these media folks?! Were they born to be undercover agents? Why didn’t they become police officers instead?”

Chu Xuanliang smirked, took back his phone, and said, “People in media have much more freedom than you police officers.”

Officer Ye: “I’m going to find this Doctor Sun now. Soon he might be taken away by another department. Do you want to come along?”

Chu Xuanliang: “Let’s go, then. I also have some questions for him.”

****

In the meeting room of the Third Hospital, Sun Yi stared blankly out the window while a group of people in front of him were hurling accusations and lectures at him.

Due to his apparent indifference, a folder flew toward him. Sun Yi deftly tilted his head to avoid it.

The plastic corner hit the wall, leaving a small dent in the white surface.

“Sun Yi, have you gone crazy recently? I think you’ve gone mad with the desire for fame! You think you can keep yourself clean? Let me tell you, if something really happens, don’t think you can run away! Which matter didn’t you have a part in? When Zhao Ta wanted to report you for faking credentials and using connections to get promoted, you were the one who jumped the highest! I think the person who wanted to kill him was you—who else would hate him so much!”

Sun Yi smiled slightly, neither confirming nor denying.

The hospital director massaged his forehead, exhausted.

Sun Yi couldn’t be fired or punished—after all, what he said was true.

The hospital was now the target of public criticism. The cause of Doctor Zhao’s death had not yet been determined. If they fired Sun Yi, it would undoubtedly be adding fuel to the fire, making the situation even worse.

Besides, the information he had released this time wasn’t completely devastating. He hadn’t disclosed the individuals or companies involved. Additionally, the drugs used by the hospital were legal; although the new drug was expensive, it was indeed slightly better in terms of efficacy. They had reasons to explain to their superiors.

As long as they maintained a humble attitude and followed normal public relations procedures, this incident could gradually be resolved.

Moreover, would someone with Sun Yi’s background be afraid of his threats? He had many places he could go. If worse came to worst, he could even go abroad.

The director glanced at Sun Yi, understanding that he wanted to make certain people uncomfortable. After weighing the options, he said to him, “Come to my office alone this afternoon. You can leave now.”

The others urgently said, “Director!”

The director waved his hand, indicating for him to go.

Sun Yi smiled faintly again, left the meeting room, and closed the door behind him.

From inside came the furious roars of several people. He rested his hand on the doorknob, his eyes dimming slightly.

He raised his head to look toward the far end of the corridor, where tree shadows swayed beyond.

It was finally over.

With his hands in his pockets, he walked step by step toward the ground floor.

In a hotel room outside the hospital, two people sat facing each other. One was Jiang Feng, and the other was Zong Ce.

Sun Yi sat down next to Zong Ce and nodded toward Jiang Feng.

Zong Ce said with a grin. “You’re here. Quick, cry to the Judge about how pitiful you are, or he might go back and record: ‘Sun Yi, dies tomorrow.’ Then you’d really be dead.”