"The patient's condition is stable."
"Various indicators are normal."
"Surveillance equipment has been properly arranged, all ready."
As the voice known as the broadcast from the ceiling concluded, the white door was opened.
Qian Cangyi opened his eyes and scanned the room.
He sat on an interrogation chair, with his hands and feet shackled, unable to move.
In front of him, on a white-clad long table, lay a few covered photos.
Across the long table, a doctor with a face framed by a tetrahedral shape placed both hands on the table.
"31, your condition has become quite severe," the doctor said seriously.
Qian Cangyi blinked, waiting for the doctor to continue.
"Why do you think it is the world that has problems, and not yourself?" the doctor countered.
Qian Cangyi remained silent.
The doctor coughed and continued,
"According to the results of your logic test, there is nothing wrong with your thinking."
