I don't like being a doctor. Although saving lives is sacred, although many lives can be saved by a doctor's hands, we must face death. Death is too cruel—I hate it! In the end, though, I gave in to my parents' expectations. Over the past twenty years, I've gradually become accustomed to such compromises. I walked into that medical school.
Half a year ago, I quickly grew used to death. It had already become numb to me. Our teachers made us painstakingly study every organ. Those substances that once held life had become as ordinary to us as a book or a pen. Whenever I mentioned this to my high school classmates, they always looked at me in disbelief—this is just how medical school is!
I met Ling in the school's laboratory building. She was already a senior, and because she was preparing for graduate school entrance exams, she spent more time in the lab than in her dormitory. Because of her straightforwardness, we got along well. Sometimes I admired her courage, because I certainly wouldn't dare to study alone in the lab late into the night. She never believed in any legends about ghosts or spirits. She always looked down on those girls who screamed at every little thing. In her words: "Medical students shouldn't fear ghosts."
I just wanted to play a joke on her, really—only a joke. So I made up a lie: "At one a.m., when the clock tower's chime sounds, turn on a desk lamp in that empty laboratory, then throw a pen behind you… If you don't hear the pen hit the floor, turn around and see what's standing behind you…" Ling laughed and called me a boring child, then hurried into that gray building...
The next day
Ling was dead, in that laboratory. The autopsy report said "died of sudden heart attack."
My heart suddenly felt hollow...
Three years later
I started preparing for the graduate exams too. I spent more and more time in the laboratory building. I no longer believed in any ghost or spirit legends. I had gradually forgotten everything about Ling...
For four years, the word "death" had become blurred in my mind. It was merely a word, or some data points... Brain death lasting over six seconds leads to irreversible death...
Night. Perhaps it was already very late. The time no longer mattered to me—my head was filled with too many materials and thoughts. The wind made the lab windows creak, but I paid no attention. From afar, the clock tower sounded a deep, low chime... Dong...
That deep chime seemed like a tremor from the deepest darkness. I rubbed my sore eyes. That single chime was like a curtain drawn across my memory—I recalled the lie I had made up three years ago, and... Ling!
The pen in my hand suddenly became strikingly noticeable. It seemed to carry a sense of unease, a gray mood, and my own heart. I stared at it anxiously. My hand seemed to lose control from my brain, drawing a line through the darkness... The pen was thrown behind me. My heartbeat... once, twice... The night remained utterly still... A chill began to rise from the depths of my bones. Impossible!
I picked up another pen and threw it behind me... Nothing... No sound! Something called fear began spreading through every pore of my body...
I turned around... Ah! Behind me stood Ling, holding a pen.