Chapter 5 The Snail Disappears at Sprint Speed

Chapter 5 The Snail Vanishes at a Hundred-Meter Sprint

Lin Jianyuan hadn’t expected to encounter the same doctor from his last visit, but as luck would have it, Dr. Cen Zheng was on duty that day. After a long wait, it was finally his turn.

“Dr. Cen, I think my condition has worsened,” Lin Jianyuan stated as soon as he sat down.

“How so?” Dr. Cen began typing on his keyboard.

Lin Jianyuan recounted the incidents involving the vines, the frogs, and the digestive system: “...I don’t know why, but to this day, my roommate still appears to me as a set of internal organs. The pink, fresh kind. And not pig organs—real human organs. It even has teeth, which is just... especially grotesque, you know?”

And he’s giving me the silent treatment!

Lin Jianyuan recalled his roommate’s refusal to add him on WeChat, and a fresh wave of annoyance washed over him.

As he continuously narrated the strange and vexing events of the past few days, he gradually realized he was actually unburdening himself.

Lin Jianyuan discreetly observed Dr. Cen’s reaction, noting no sign of impatience on the doctor’s face. He merely nodded while typing on his keyboard.

Lin Jianyuan poured out his bizarre experiences like spilling beans. By the time he finished, he actually felt much better. He asked, “Doctor, is the dosage of my medication insufficient? I feel like these hallucinations have escalated and are now starting to affect those around me.”

“You actually know those are hallucinations,” Dr. Cen said with a slight smile, clicking around on his computer with the mouse. Though his eyes were on the screen, his attention was clearly still on Lin Jianyuan. “It’s fine; no need to increase the dosage for now. It’s likely due to missing your medication for the past two days, so the drug concentration hasn’t reached optimal levels.”

“Right!” Lin Jianyuan suddenly remembered. He had slept through two consecutive days, not only missing his medication but also not drinking a single drop of water. No wonder his symptoms flared up again as soon as he returned to work.

He quickly added, “I’m sorry, Doctor. I promise to take my medication diligently this time!”

“It’s alright, no need to feel guilty,” Dr. Cen reassured him. “It’s completely normal for symptoms to fluctuate during the initial stages. You’re still in the acute phase. To put it simply, your situation is like having the flu. It’s inevitable to run a fever for the first couple of days, and even with antipyretics, your temperature might still fluctuate. Let’s not rush; give the medication and your immune system some time. You’ll gradually get better. The two medications I prescribed have proven very effective for most people.”

“Okay, okay, thank you, Doctor. Hearing that puts my mind at ease.” Lin Jianyuan felt his spirit lifted once more. “I won’t rush it; I’ll take it slow. But what should I do if I see hallucinations at the office again? Should I pretend not to see them? But sometimes I can’t control myself, especially when I see those vines wriggling in my colleague’s eyes. It makes me so disgusted and frustrated—I just want to yank them out and stomp on them, maybe even grind them under my heel... Is that too violent of me?”

Dr. Cen let out a soft chuckle. “Not really. You’re just grabbing at thin air, not your colleague. You still know the difference, right? You don’t have violent tendencies toward your colleagues, do you?”

“Well, not toward my colleagues,” Lin Jianyuan admitted sheepishly. “But toward my boss...”

“It’s normal to harbor resentment towards leadership,” Dr. Cen scoffed. “Sometimes I feel like strangling the administrative staff at our hospital too. They never do any real work—all they do is make things harder for us clinicians... Don’t spread that around, though. Do me a favor.”

Lin Jianyuan burst into laughter. “Hahaha, sure! Ah, it’s the same everywhere! All bosses are idiots.”

Cen Zheng: “Well, we can’t generalize. Occasionally, there are normal ones.”

Lin Jianyuan: “Yes. Occasionally.”

The doctor and patient exchanged a glance, both recognizing the weary smile of corporate drudgery on the other’s face.

“I actually think you’re in a very conducive environment for recovery.”

After the jesting, Cen Zheng resumed his professional, reassuring tone. “Your colleagues are aware of your situation and are quite understanding. That kind of environment is rare. How about this: be frank with them. Tell them you sometimes see hallucinations and might exhibit some strange behaviors. They’ll surely understand. With them around, if you ever do something dangerous, they can intervene in time. Your office atmosphere is actually quite good.”

“It is pretty good. I was really touched when they stood up for me...” Lin Jianyuan recalled everyone defending him against Jiang Chen, and warmth filled his heart once more.

But then he remembered those annoying frogs and vines. He hesitated for a moment but decided to voice his true feelings. “...But my hallucinations feel so real. It’s not just that I can see them—I can touch them too. Like how the vines squirm in my hand like caterpillars, twisting so vividly and energetically... And most importantly, how do you explain that my colleague’s eyes stopped hurting after I pulled the vines out? I’ve been pondering that this whole time...”

“That can actually be explained too.” Cen Zheng raised a finger and said, “Look at my hand.”

Lin Jianyuan obediently followed his instruction.

“Keep your eyes on my hand, follow my finger...” Cen Zheng said as he moved his finger toward Lin Jianyuan’s nose.

Lin Jianyuan went cross-eyed.

Cen Zheng moved his finger farther away, then closer, repeating the motion a few times. Lin Jianyuan felt his eyeballs rolling around like two billiard balls.

“How do you feel now? Do your eyes feel a little more relaxed?” Cen Zheng asked. “Switching between focusing on near and far objects helps adjust the muscles in your eyes, providing a relaxing effect. When you pulled the vines out for your colleague, it was essentially a process of shifting focus between near and far for them. There might have been some psychological suggestion involved too, especially since your new colleague looks up to you. As for the vines themselves, they’re likely a product of your imagination. You heard him say his eyes were dry from staying up late binge-watching shows, and your imagination turned that into vines growing in his eyes... I’ve noticed your hallucinations are quite creative—probably because you work in a creative field.”

Lin Jianyuan thought about it and realized it made perfect sense.

Their company specialized in brand marketing, which often required brainstorming innovative ideas. Lin Jianyuan had a sudden moment of clarity. “I get it now! Those frogs are probably a physical manifestation of my disgust toward my idiot boss. I feel like he talks nonsense all day, croaking like a frog... Yes, I remember—when I first moved to A City, I rented a place next to a river. Every summer, the whole river would be filled with the sound of frogs croaking, and it kept me up every night.”

“See, everything that seems abnormal actually has a root cause,” Cen Zheng said with a smile. “Understanding that will help alleviate much of your anxiety.”

“Yes! Thank you, Doctor!”

Leaving No. 700 Jiangchuan North Road, Lin Jianyuan felt completely refreshed, both physically and mentally.

Dr. Cen prescribed him another week’s worth of medication and taught him a good method to relieve eye strain: close your eyes and imagine your eyes are balls, then mentally toss them out and reel them back in.

Lin Jianyuan tried it with his eyes closed and found it actually worked.

What should he do next? The weather was so nice, and he’d already taken the day off... Just as Lin Jianyuan was contemplating finding somewhere to go, his phone vibrated. It was a voice call from Pei Shuo.

“Hey, bro, are you done with your appointment?” Pei Shuo asked concernedly. “How did it go?”

“Pretty good,” Lin Jianyuan replied. “What’s up?”

“Well, uh, which version of the livestream rundown for the Wind Element hairdryer did we finally settle on? Do you remember?” Pei Shuo awkwardly read out, “Was it the ‘Final Version, No More Changes or We Riot’ draft or the ‘If They Ask for More Changes, We Shove Shit Down the Stupid Client’s Throat’ draft...?”

Lin Jianyuan calmly answered, “It was the ‘If They Ask for More Changes, We Shove Shit Down the Stupid Client’s Throat’ draft.”

Pei Shuo: “Oh, okay.”

Lin Jianyuan: “Did the client ask you to make more changes while I was away? There’s plenty of dog shit in my neighborhood...”

“No need!” Pei Shuo replied, both amused and exasperated. “Alright, I found it. It does seem to be this version. I remember now—that night at 11 p.m., the client said their marketing director’s cat had just given birth to a litter of kittens, so they wanted us to add cat elements to the entire livestream overnight. This is the one.”

“Mm,” Lin Jianyuan said expressionlessly. “Don’t forget to change the file name before sending it. Or don’t—it’s fine either way.”

Pei Shuo: “Hahaha, okay. Bro, you focus on resting up!”

Lin Jianyuan found a random place to grab lunch. In the afternoon, he initially planned to go home and take a nap but felt uneasy.

Something felt off. Hadn’t the feline-themed proposal been finalized and submitted to the client two days ago? Why was the client asking Pei Shuo for it again today? Wait, maybe it wasn’t the client asking.

Lin Jianyuan rushed back to the office. It was lunch break, and everyone had gone to the cafeteria except Pei Shuo, who was still at his desk, looking utterly defeated.

Lin Jianyuan’s heart sank. “Pei Shuo,” he called out.

“Bro!” Pei Shuo looked like he’d seen a savior, springing up from his desk in surprise. “Why are you back?”

“What’s gone wrong now?” Lin Jianyuan glanced toward the second floor. Jiang Chen’s office door was closed—he was probably taking a nap inside.

“Well, it’s not exactly something gone wrong? It’s just a bit of a hassle,” Pei Shuo said resentfully. “You know how the proposal has a lot of cat elements? The client also wanted us to decorate the livestream background with more cat-themed stuff. We already prepared all the plush toys, stickers, memes, and everything, but then Jiang Chen suddenly said he wanted to review the proposal. He said you haven’t been in great shape lately, so he wanted to double-check it for you...”

Lin Jianyuan turned the computer screen toward himself. Two minutes later, he kicked open Jiang Chen’s office door.

“Mr. Jiang!” Lin Jianyuan slammed a stack of stickers onto Jiang Chen’s desk, barely containing his anger. “You changed my KV?”

KV, or Key Vision, refers to the main visual design, including the brand logo, theme copy, core product selling points, and visual style.

Lin Jianyuan had handled everything from start to finish for this livestream. The client had been breathing down their necks, making life unbearable—which was why Lin Jianyuan had been pulling all-nighters and only got two hours of sleep over three days.

The KV is used throughout the entire live stream process, including pre-event posters, live room backgrounds, product displays, voice-over inserts, and more. It needs to remain visually consistent; otherwise, it’ll look terrible.

The live stream is scheduled for 7 PM tonight, and it’s already 1 PM. Jiang Chen actually chose this moment to alter his KV! He’s practically asking for trouble!

“Don’t panic, don’t panic.” Jiang Chen shot up from his ergonomic chair, startled by Lin Jianyuan’s fury, and hurriedly tried to calm him. “I’ve handled everything. Aren’t you still on sick leave? Don’t worry—I pulled the old files from the print shop in time and replaced them with the new ones. I’ve also sent people to redo the live stream setup. Just focus on recovering, please don’t get worked up.”

Jiang Chen’s attempts to reassure him only poured fuel on the fire, making Lin Jianyuan see red and fume with anger.

“You even replaced the materials at the print shop? With this?!” Lin Jianyuan knocked his knuckles hard against the design mock-up on the desk.

“Yep.” Jiang Chen’s lips curled, unable to contain his pride. “That round-faced black cat element in your original design was too cliché—it felt a little off. Then it hit me, so I changed it to a square face. Don’t you think this square-faced black cat is unique? Really memorable?”

“Oh, it’s memorable, all right.” Lin Jianyuan sneered, his gloom so thick you could almost touch it. “So it really doesn’t look familiar to you at all?”

“Huh?” Jiang Chen was taken aback.

Lin Jianyuan was tempted to pull down his pants right then, take a shit, and shove it into Jiang Chen’s mouth. Forcing his temper down, he took out his phone and held up a certain orange shopping app in front of Jiang Chen.

Jiang Chen stared, eyes widening. “What the fuck!”

“Get ready to face the fines, dumbass!” Lin Jianyuan coldly tossed out the words, turned, and kicked the door open on his way out.

“Wait! Don’t go! Hold on!” Jiang Chen broke into a cold sweat instantly, his legs going weak as he chased after him and grabbed Lin Jianyuan’s arm. “There’s still time!” he stammered, voice trembling. “There… there should still be time, right? We didn’t order a huge print run—I’ll have the print shop reprint them now. I’ll cover the extra costs myself…”

“I’m still on sick leave,” Lin Jianyuan replied indifferently.

“Lin Jianyuan! You’ve gotta help me!” Jiang Chen grew desperate. “This could turn into a huge disaster! It’s not just my job on the line—it’s our entire studio! I’m begging you, okay? Remember how I drove you to the psych ward myself this morning…”

Lin Jianyuan was irritated and just wanted to kick him away. But as he turned, he saw Pei Shuo standing awkwardly at the stairwell, nervously picking at his nails.

“Bro Yuan… did I mess up?” Pei Shuo stuttered, calling out to him before falling silent.

On one side, Jiang Chen clung to his leg; on the other, Pei Shuo stood anxious and fearful. Lin Jianyuan found himself caught between them in a tense standoff, the atmosphere stiff and time stretching like molten glass being pulled thin.

Annoyed, Lin Jianyuan ran a hand through his hair and muttered “fuck” under his breath. His eyes drifted to the office potted plant in the corner, where a snail was scurrying astonishingly fast, zipping right past him.

Lin Jianyuan: “?”

Baffled, he stared in shock at the shiny trail the snail left behind.

As the snail vanished at what seemed like a sprinting pace, Jiang Chen started yammering again: “I’m not asking—I’m telling you! You really have to help me! It’s not just for me, it’s for yourself too! Stop dawdling, Lin Jianyuan! If we waste any more time, it really will be too late!”