Nightmare Onslaught - Chapter 23 - Medicine

“Doctor,” Fatty said as he watched Jiang Cheng finish his second bowl of rice, “Take your time eating. No one’s rushing you.”

Jiang Cheng poured himself a bowl of soup, drank it all in one go, and then set the bowl down. Satisfied, he pulled out a tissue and wiped his mouth. By then, Fatty had barely managed to finish half of his first bowl of rice.

With a tone of concern, Jiang Cheng asked, “Why aren’t you eating the dishes?”

Fatty glanced at the lone potato left on the plate and the solitary cabbage leaf swirling in the soup pot, then slowly put down his chopsticks. “Doctor,” he said, looking up, “I’ve been trying to lose weight recently.”

“Oh,” Jiang Cheng nodded, “Then I won’t urge you to eat.”

After the meal, Fatty went to the kitchen as usual to wash the dishes. Jiang Cheng sat at the desk in the studio, the crisp sound of keyboard tapping revealing a hint of nonchalance.

Once Fatty finished washing the dishes, he sat down on the sofa, drying his hands as he asked Jiang Cheng if the studio only addressed patients’ mental health issues. Jiang Cheng confirmed it.

Fatty blinked, as if something didn’t quite make sense. “Doctor, I just saw a lot of medicine in the kitchen cabinet, but most of it is for treating injuries and pain relief. Why are you stocking up on these?”

Jiang Cheng seemed perfectly healthy. Fatty even thought that if they were to compete in eating, he might not be Jiang Cheng’s match. It clearly didn’t seem like something he would need.

Unexpectedly, Jiang Cheng appeared to give Fatty’s question serious thought. He then walked to the kitchen and pulled out a box of cooling pain relief patches.

He tore open the box, took out one patch, and then turned around, staring at Fatty with a scrutinizing gaze.

Every now and then, he would look down at the patch in his hand.

Fatty felt inexplicably uneasy under Jiang Cheng’s gaze, and a sense of foreboding suddenly washed over him. “Doctor,” he said nervously, “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Nothing,” Jiang Cheng put the patch back in its place and returned to his desk, sitting down as if nothing had happened.

Fatty was initially suspicious, but when he thought about the nightmare, he felt like nothing really mattered anymore.

The afternoon passed in a blur. Taking advantage of the lack of customers, Fatty tidied up the front of the studio. When he returned, he sat on the sofa and dozed off.

When he woke up again, it was already dark. Fatty rubbed his eyes and noticed that Jiang Cheng was no longer at the desk. He turned his head and saw that Jiang Cheng wasn’t in the kitchen either. With a jolt, he fully woke up.

The sky had already darkened, and no one could predict when the Nightmare would strike. Without Jiang Cheng, any Nightmare would spell disaster for Fatty.

“Doctor?” Fatty called out.

The surroundings were eerily quiet, with no response.

Fatty panicked. Just as he was about to head upstairs to look, the door suddenly opened, and a tall, lean shadow stepped in first.

Jiang Cheng walked in carrying several bags, casually closing the door behind him.

“Doctor!” Fatty exclaimed, as if seeing a glimmer of hope. “Where did you go?”

Jiang Cheng handed a few of the bags to Fatty, who noticed they were filled with small boxes-the same kind of medicine he’d seen in the cabinet earlier that afternoon.

“What’s this?”

“Medicine,” Jiang Cheng replied, hanging his coat on the rack. “Just put them in the cabinet you saw earlier.”

“Doctor, why are you buying so much medicine?”

Jiang Cheng walked over to the shelf where the medical cases were stored, pulled out one marked with a red label, and flipped through it casually. “For future use,” he said.

Fatty’s confusion deepened. There were only the two of them here, and neither of them was injured. Who was all this medicine for?

Suddenly, the scene he’d witnessed in the villa flashed through his mind. A chill ran down Fatty’s spine, and cold sweat broke out instantly.

He began to wonder if Jiang Cheng was some kind of psychopath planning to imprison him long-term, just like the family in the villa from the mission.

The wound care and painkillers were probably meant for him, to keep him from dying of his injuries.

The more Fatty thought about it, the more plausible it seemed. Even Jiang Cheng’s earlier threat to kick him out now appeared to be nothing more than a manipulative ploy.

No wonder Jiang Cheng had so quickly unraveled the villa family’s conspiracy-they were all the same kind of people!

That’s why he’d seen through their trap so easily!

Fatty knew he had to find a way to escape, and the sooner, the better.

Just as his eyes darted around, desperately trying to come up with a reason to leave the studio without arousing Jiang Cheng’s suspicion, Jiang Cheng’s voice suddenly broke the silence. “No one’s interested in imprisoning and torturing a Fatty.”

Fatty’s head snapped toward Jiang Cheng, who was leaning against the desk, flipping through the medical case without even looking up.

Jiang Cheng turned a page and continued, “Your legs are your own. You can leave anytime. But I’ll tell you this-once you walk out that door, don’t even think about coming back.”

“Can I really leave?” Fatty hesitated, unsure now. The man in front of him, though a bit odd and with a skewed way of thinking, didn’t seem like the kind of ruthless villain he’d imagined.

A few seconds later, Fatty made up his mind. “Doctor,” he said, “I think it’s better if I stay. We can look out for each other.”

He paused, licking his lips awkwardly, “But could you tell me what all these medicines are really for?”

“Huh-” Jiang Cheng seemed to have finished whatever he was working on. He closed the medical case, looked up at Fatty, and his gaze seemed to ask, Do you really want to know?

Fatty nodded vigorously.

Jiang Cheng pursed his lips, as if giving it serious thought. “Alright,” he sighed, “I’ll tell you, but you absolutely cannot let this secret out. It’s very important to me.”

Fatty was caught up in Jiang Cheng’s solemn demeanor. He straightened his back, and the atmosphere became as formal as if they were taking an oath.

In the back of his mind, Fatty guessed that Jiang Cheng might be suffering from some kind of embarrassing, hidden illness that required these medications.

He remembered how Jiang Cheng had once told Chen Xiaomeng that 30 seconds was enough.

Maybe he hadn’t been lying.

Fatty suddenly felt a wave of sympathy for the man in front of him, who was otherwise quite handsome.

He thought to himself that life was indeed fair-everyone had their deepest, most hidden pain, and now Jiang Cheng was willing to confide in him.

With that in mind, Fatty looked at Jiang Cheng with encouragement in his eyes. “Doctor, I’m ready. You can start.”

“Good,” Jiang Cheng nodded. “The bandages are for tying you up. The medical adhesive tape works well to seal your mouth so you don’t scream and attract the police. The painkillers will ensure you stay conscious while being abused. I also have two boxes of stimulants, but you’ll have to understand, these are hard to come by and quite expensive, so whether you get to use them depends on your luck.” Jiang Cheng seemed to remember something and added, “Oh, and I’ve prepared some hallucinogens to mix into your water. Don’t worry, I’ll give it to you in a moment.”

Fatty: “???”