An icy, bone-piercing chill swept in from every direction like a rising tide, forcing Lu Chen's muddled consciousness to claw its way up from an endless, pitch-black abyss.
He snapped his eyes open and erupted into a harsh cough. The acrid sting of disinfectant mixed with the heavy scent of smoke, pricking at his lungs until tears welled in his eyes.
Above him loomed the stark, sterile ceiling of Feichi Group's infirmary, and around him hovered several indistinct, masked faces.
"He's awake! The kid's finally awake!" a slightly shrill voice exclaimed.
Lu Chen shook his still-dizzy head and at last realized he was lying on the narrow cot of the company clinic. A lingering ache on the back of his hand reminded him of someone's grip from moments ago.
What happened?
He strove to recall: Wang Hai's face twisted in fury, Xu Tingxia's beautiful eyes reddened with grievance, and—most unsettling of all—the tsunami of chaotic "voices" and "visions" that had roared into his mind.
"Student, how are you feeling? Any discomfort?" A gentle voice asked. A modest-looking school nurse in a white coat and gold-rimmed glasses shone a small flashlight into his pupils. Though her tone was soft, Lu Chen instinctively recoiled from her gaze, terrified he might "hear" thoughts not meant for his ears.
"I…I'm fine…" His voice was ragged, as if sandpaper-lined. "How… how did I end up here?"
"Miss Xu Tingxia from your department brought you in," the nurse said with a reassuring smile as she pocketed the flashlight. "She said you collapsed in the office and looked quite pale. Our preliminary check suggests temporary fainting from low blood sugar and emotional stress. But to be safe, we recommend you get a full examination at a hospital."
Xu Tingxia? She was the one who brought me here?
A warm, indescribable rush flooded Lu Chen's chest. He remembered—just before losing consciousness—those anxious, beautiful eyes staring down at him…
At that moment, the clinic door eased open, and a familiar, graceful figure stepped in, cradling a steaming cup of brown sugar water with the utmost care.
It was Xu Tingxia.
Her face was still tinted with lingering worry and pallor. The moment her large, shimmering eyes met Lu Chen's, they brightened with relief—only to flush abruptly with embarrassment. She wore a pale pink knit cardigan that accentuated her porcelain skin and the gentle curve of her chest, rising and falling with each breath, exuding a girlish fragrance that made Lu Chen's heart stir.
"Lu Chen, you're awake! Feeling any better?" she asked in a voice as light as a feather, offering him the cup of warm sugar water. "The nurse said it might be low blood sugar. A warm drink should help."
Lu Chen tried to sit up, but his limbs felt leaden, and a throbbing pain from earlier memories slammed into his skull.
"Don't move!" Xu Tingxia exclaimed, setting down the cup and pressing her soft, slender hands against his shoulders to steady him. Her fingertips accidentally brushed his neck; the tender warmth sent a jolt through his body, a peculiar tingle that spread from head to toe.
Realizing her mistake, her cheeks bloomed crimson like a ripe apple. She jerked her hands back, standing awkwardly with her gaze cast downward, unable to meet his eyes.
An awkward, intimate hush filled the small infirmary.
Suddenly, Lu Chen's mind involuntarily replayed Xu Tingxia's inner thoughts—clear, vivid, and tinted with youthful shyness:
[Oh no, I just… I just touched him… His skin is so warm… Does he think I'm being forward? Why am I so nervous… He looks so weak, so pale, not a hint of color on his lips… Poor thing… That jerk Wang Hai really pushed him to the brink… Actually, Lu Chen's not bad-looking. He just never cares how he dresses—so plain… If he spruced up a bit and gained confidence, I bet a lot of girls would like him… Ugh, Xu Tingxia, get your head out of the clouds! He's in such a state; how can you be thinking about this…]
These thoughts, like the sweetest poison, swept through Lu Chen, mingling dizziness and pain with an uncontrollable rush of delight—and a faint, thrilling flutter.
So… she doesn't merely pity me.
This revelation stirred a ripple of something soft and sweet in the heart he'd long thought frozen by Wang Hai's cruelty.
"Thank you, Xia Xia," he rasped, fighting off the pounding in his head and the strange yearning in his chest. "I… I feel better."
"That's good." Xu Tingxia seemed to exhale in relief. Her moist eyes glinted with genuine concern. "The nurse recommends you still go to the hospital, but—"
"No need." Lu Chen shook his head. "I've just been under too much stress and haven't rested. It's nothing serious." He couldn't bear the thought of hospital bills, nor did he want anyone to know about these bizarre mental upheavals.
Xu Tingxia bit her lip, about to object, but his unwavering gaze made her swallow her words. She only whispered, "Then… please rest well. And don't take Chief Wang's words to heart. He's always been like that…"
Lu Chen only nodded in silence.
Half an hour later, after the crushing headaches had eased enough to grant him some strength, he insisted on leaving despite the nurse's and Xu Tingxia's pleas.
He longed for the cramped rental where he at least felt some semblance of security, if only to make sense of the impossible events of the afternoon.
Dragging his exhausted body, Lu Chen returned to his shabby one-room flat in Huangnigang Village. He pushed open the creaking wooden door and was greeted by the familiar damp mildew and instant-noodle stench.
He collapsed onto the stone-hard bed, bloodshot eyes fixed on a yellow water stain blossoming on the ceiling, as his mind replayed the surreal "heart-voices" from the office and clinic earlier.
Wang Hai's vicious curses and filthy fantasies… Zhao Yuhang's jealous, spiteful schemes… the real faces of colleagues, whether indifferent, selfish, or gleefully malicious… and Xu Tingxia's pure, spring-like concern laced with something… inexplicably tender.
Each impression etched itself into his soul like a branding iron.
"What… what is this?" Lu Chen murmured, trembling fingers brushing his still-throbbing temples. "Could it be… I'm actually hearing what people think?"
Telepathy?
This word—once confined to trashy web novels and B-grade films—exploded in his mind like a thunderclap.
He bolted upright, heart hammering wildly at the sheer audacity of the thought.
He'd considered madness from stress or hallucinations from low blood sugar. Yet the blurred yet genuine complaints of Aunt Li in the fire corridor and Xu Tingxia's crystal-clear inner monologue—so perfectly aligned with her outward behavior—undeniably pointed to something supernatural.
If this truly is telepathy… then I, Lu Chen, could peer behind every mask, uncover every secret desire and hidden motive!
The notion sent electric thrills through him—but was instantly followed by a wave of dread and confusion as frigid as the clinic's air.
He forced himself to calm the near-manic surge of hope and fear, recalling each occasion he'd "heard" thoughts.
He realized that the stronger and more focused the speaker's emotions, the clearer the mental voice. Wang Hai's raging triumph, Zhao Yuhang's naked envy, Xu Tingxia's pure worry—all registered like high-definition film playing in his mind.
By contrast, Aunt Li's petty grievances or passersby's fleeting, shallow thoughts were vague and fragmented. Distance also mattered: at arm's reach, office thoughts roared in vividly; across a fireproof door, he had to strain to catch Aunt Li's murmurs.
And the greatest, deadliest factor: the cost.
Each time he tapped into someone's mind, or was bombarded by a flood of intense feelings, it unleashed a pain as if his skull would shatter, leaving him drained to the bone—just as it had in the clinic when he "listened" to Xu Tingxia.
This was no gift to be used recklessly. It was a razor-sharp, dangerous sword that cut both enemy and wielder.
To test his theory about the energy drain, Lu Chen inhaled deeply, burying himself in the needle-like ache, and tentatively extended his mental reach to the thin, barely soundproof wall next door.
There lived a young couple who loathed each other yet were bound by circumstance. Now muffled sobs and a man's impatient grumbles drifted through.
Lu Chen shut his eyes, held his breath, and sent his fragile psychic thread toward their voices.
At first, the familiar haze of head-splitting vertigo seized him. But gradually—perhaps his mind was slightly stronger now, or he'd grown a touch more adept—two clearer currents of thought emerged, laced with anger, grievance, despair, and even a sickly dependence.
The man's mind thundered with possessive fury:
[You good-for-nothing, crying again! Do you know how hard I bust my ass entertaining clients, laughing and drinking, all for this family? And you doubt me sleeping around! If you dare snoop through my phone, I swear I'll break your leg today! Damn it, if you weren't still halfway decent-looking, I'd have divorced your ass a long time ago!]
The woman's despair poured out:
[Go ahead and hit me! Kill me if you can! My life's meaningless anyway. Marrying you was my biggest mistake—thinking with anything but my head! You cavort with those skanks, then swagger home to beat me! If not for the kids, I wouldn't even see your face. But where else can I go? What skills do I have? Just… just stop beating me so often, give me a bit more money, and I'll do whatever you want…]
These brutal, unfiltered thoughts were far more horrifying than the couple's muted quarrel. They bared the rotting, violent truth festering beneath a facade of normalcy.
"Damn… it's real… and more terrifying than I imagined." Lu Chen's eyes flew open, cold sweat beading on his forehead. The familiar, soul-wrenching agony returned, seizing his nerves so fiercely he stifled a groan as he nearly toppled from the bed.
He abruptly severed the link, his body crumpling back as if struck by a blow, gasping for breath. Sweat drenched his hair, strands plastered to his forehead as he lay panting.
He could be certain now: he wielded a bizarre, formidable, and perilous power akin to telepathy—a forbidden force that revealed hearts' light and darkness, but threatened to drag him into a pit of madness.
Excitement? Terror? Bewilderment? Or perhaps… a stubborn spark of hope, scrambling to grow amid the ashes of despair.
Lu Chen's emotions churned beyond description. He had acquired a godlike ability coveted by mortals and immortals alike, yet it emerged at his darkest hour—when he'd just been cruelly fired by Wang Hai, publicly and mercilessly threatened with ruin.
This harsh reality drenched his fragile fantasies in a bucket of Siberian ice water. Even if he could read minds, how could that stop Wang Hai from executing his threat? He lacked any real leverage. Could he manipulate his landlord, Ms. Liu, into forgiving the overdue rent? Could he glean an interview panel's hidden bias and secure a new job?
Perhaps… but only if he mastered this ability and overcame its dreadful cost.
A reckless, desperate thought blazed through his weary mind—if he could hone this power, find ways to mitigate its toll, maybe he could seize control of every future interaction, expose every lie and plot, and become the hunter rather than the prey—topple those who had trampled him and reclaim his life.
The idea made his frostbitten limbs tremble with fierce ambition. In his eyes flickered something never seen before: a potent mixture of longing, defiance, and determination.
The price was excruciating headaches and bone-deep exhaustion. Yet what was that compared to a chance at rewriting his fate, to crush those who had held power over him?
Lu Chen fell back onto the cold, hard cot, temples still throbbing like countless needles. Outside, the clamor of Huangnigang Village surged in like the tide.
But in that moment, Lu Chen felt the slightest shift—a fulcrum small enough to pivot his entire future.
He did not know whether this turning point would plunge him into an abyss or skyrocket him to unimaginable heights.
Yet from this instant on, Lu Chen would no longer be a helpless ant at others' mercy.
Tonight promised sleeplessness, for he had too many mysteries to unravel, too many plans to forge—and it all began with that word crystallizing in his mind:
Telepathy.
No—perhaps it deserved a bolder, more fitting name…