After enduring a brutal two-hour traffic jam just to complete what should have been a twenty-minute drive, Lidi finally arrived at the hospital wearing an expression dark enough to scare people away.
Huashan Third Medical Center.
The building was a curved silver-gray structure resembling a giant metallic beetle lying on its stomach.
Green solar panels covered its surface, reflecting sunlight in shimmering ripples like waves across a lake.
After parking the Xingyue Model 31, Lidi stepped inside.
The hospital was crowded.
Many beastmen sat waiting with casts wrapped around their limbs or arms hanging in slings.
Medical staff moved constantly through the halls—some attending patients, others simply chatting among themselves.
In another section, dozens of beastmen lined up outside rows of small individual rooms.
Each patient entered for only a short while before walking back out carrying medicine.
These were fully automated diagnostic booths.
Hospitals no longer required patients to wait endlessly for doctors like they had in the previous century.
No more separate stages for consultation, diagnosis, test results, and prescriptions.
Now everything was completed in one seamless process.
Inside those little rooms.
Lidi joined the line, and only a few minutes later, it was his turn.
The moment he stepped inside, he was greeted by spotless white walls.
Soft blue lights overhead radiated faint warmth while quiet classical music played in the background, calming the mind.
“Welcome to Huashan Third Medical Center.
Please present your identification.” A holographic fox appeared before him.
Its voice sounded gentle.
Its tone carried no emotion whatsoever.
Without speaking, Lidi placed his hand against a nearby sensor.
Instantly, all of his personal data was transmitted through the implanted chip inside his body.
Nowadays, every beastman possessed an implanted chip.
It functioned as an identification card, wallet, and location tracker all in one.
A perfect tool for government population control.
Without an implant, you were considered illegal.
“Greetings, Mr.
Chen Lidi.
Welcome to the Huashan Seventh-Generation Public Intelligent Medical System.
Please remain motionless.
Full-body scanning and biological modeling will complete within ten seconds.
Matching symptom index… Following examination completion, a personalized treatment plan and precision medication package will be automatically generated.
Please note: all prescription procedures will dynamically adjust according to diagnostic outcomes and physiological feedback.
Fees may fluctuate depending on illness classification, treatment protocols, and medication type.
System recommendation: during diagnosis, please refrain from excessive movement, interruption, or attempts to question the medical logic chain.
Thank you for your cooperation.
We wish you a pleasant recovery.” After bowing politely, the fox hologram vanished.
Immediately afterward, sections of the walls and floor split apart, revealing numerous mechanical arms equipped with medical instruments.
They moved rapidly around Lidi’s body, scanning him repeatedly while he stood still and allowed the machines to perform their inspection.
A short while later, the fox hologram flickered back into existence.
“Greetings, Mr.
Chen Lidi.
Multiple symptoms detected match the early-stage characteristics of the Sudadi New Flu.
We advise immediate transfer to the isolation sector for further examination.” Lidi’s expression tightened instantly.
The thing he feared most had happened.
He had hoped it was just some minor illness.
Instead, he had apparently hit the jackpot.
“Could this be a misdiagnosis?
I request another confirmation.” “Please remain calm.
A private diagnostic environment will be prepared for you.
Kindly proceed toward Sector B7.
During this period, we advise avoiding physical contact with other individuals.
Thank you for your cooperation.” The hologram completely ignored his request.
After another polite bow, it disappeared once more.
The exit behind him—which should have opened automatically—displayed a bright red ACCESS DENIED warning instead.
At the same time, a side door slid open to reveal a corridor leading deeper into the hospital.
Pale blue arrows illuminated across the floor, guiding him toward Sector B7.
Lidi wanted to argue.
Compared to an AI system, he would rather hear an actual doctor explain things to him.
But the soreness in his muscles made him too exhausted to fight over it.
In the end, he simply followed the instructions and slowly walked toward the isolation area.
This part of the hospital consisted mainly of patient ward corridors.
AI robots handled most of the work here, while actual beastman nurses and doctors were surprisingly rare.
“Man… if AI keeps replacing people like this, how are the rest of us supposed to survive?” After several turns, Lidi finally arrived at Sector B7.
The room was a sealed holographic diagnostic chamber.
Inside stood a single chair.
Pale blue light glowed from the floor, while the walls were constructed from semi-transparent nano-glass.
The moment he entered, blue projections lit up around him.
Without any warning, the room immediately began conducting another full-body scan.
This examination was far faster than the public booth outside.
And far more advanced.
The equipment revealed itself piece by piece from hidden compartments, clearly operating on a much higher level.
Which probably also meant it cost far more.
Seeing that the process would likely take some time, Lidi simply sat down and waited.
Several minutes later, just as he was about to doze off, a sheep doctor entered the room wearing a full-body white protective suit and mask.
A tablet rested in his hands as he reviewed Lidi’s medical data with a serious expression.
“Mr.
Lidi, your current symptoms are highly consistent with Sudadi New Flu.
Although we have not yet confirmed the existence of the virus within your body, we will need to place you under temporary isolation for twenty-four hours as a precaution.” Lidi’s face darkened further.
“So you’re saying you can’t even confirm whether I’m infected yet?
All these tests and you still can’t tell?
And now you want to isolate me for twenty-four hours too?
Isn’t that a bit ridiculous?” The sheep doctor looked up at him.
His eyes carried none of the warmth usually expected from medical professionals.
“Our current diagnostic equipment does not yet possess complete data regarding Sudadi New Flu.
At this stage, confirmation can only be achieved through blood analysis.” “A blood test doesn’t take an entire day.
Why can’t you just let me go home first?” “I understand this may cause discomfort, but this is standard procedure.
And due to the nature of this new influenza strain, full analysis genuinely requires at least one day.” Lidi was clearly dissatisfied with the answer.
Normal blood testing absolutely did not require that long.
Combined with mandatory hospitalization, he could not help suspecting the hospital was simply trying to charge him extra fees.
“I understand your concerns,” the sheep doctor continued, “but these are government regulations.
I assume you would rather not force us to restrain you by force.” Lidi was prepared to refuse— until he saw the doctor’s eyes.
There was nothing joking about them.
Almost instinctively, he lowered his head before asking quietly: “…Fine.
If it turns out I really have Sudadi New Flu, what happens then?” The sheep doctor paused briefly while writing on his report.
Then he continued as though nothing had happened.
“If infection is confirmed, you will undergo fourteen days of compulsory hospitalization and observation.
In addition, all individuals who had close contact with you during the past seven days will also be placed under quarantine.
Please prepare yourself mentally.” Lidi’s expression sank.
He inhaled deeply, resisting the urge to roll his eyes.
“Goddamn rotten luck… Hey, can I at least make a call first?
I need to report this to my supervisor.” The sheep doctor tapped a few commands across the tablet.
“You may.
However, you must use our communication system.
During isolation, outside contact will be heavily restricted.
We appreciate your cooperation.” Lidi cursed internally.
Was this quarantine— or prison?
Too tired to argue further, he simply agreed.
The sheep doctor then pressed the communicator beside his ear.
“Sector B7 patient confirmed.
Begin transfer procedure.” The moment he finished speaking, a section of wall on the opposite side of the room slid open silently.
A narrow strip of pale blue light extended outward along the floor like a living pulse, leading deeper into the facility.
“Please follow the illuminated path to Chamber C4.
Your belongings will undergo unified sanitation processing.” After saying that, the sheep doctor turned and left immediately.
Lidi sighed and dragged his lead-heavy body forward.
At the end of the corridor, the door to Isolation Chamber C4 slowly opened.
Cold air mixed with disinfectant rushed toward him.
The room measured roughly ten square meters—so simple it resembled a hotel room stripped down to nothing but its skeleton.
A ring of pale white light floated beneath the ceiling.
Holographic medical displays were embedded into the walls, while a compact nutrition dispenser and hygiene module stood quietly in the corner.
The moment he sat on the bed, Lidi activated the communication interface on the wall display and selected the option allowing contact requests to “limited approved individuals.” He immediately entered Auntie Wency’s number.
A few seconds later, the familiar face of the crow beastwoman appeared on-screen.
“Lidi, what happened?
I nearly got scared to death when I answered and heard a hospital recording first.
Did they actually find something wrong?” “Yeah,” Lidi replied tiredly while rubbing his forehead.
“They found something.” “The doctor says I might’ve caught Sudadi New Flu.
They’re locking me up for fourteen days.” Wency fell silent for several seconds before speaking again in a conflicted tone.
“…That virus from the news?
The one killing tons of people recently?” “Yep.
That one.” The moment he finished speaking, Wency panicked instantly.
“Oh hell no!
Doesn’t that mean I’m infected too?!
Wait—doesn’t that mean the whole company might be infected?!
Oh my god, how long are we going to shut down for?!” Lidi stared blankly at the frantic crow woman on-screen.
Seriously… How did this woman act like a company director?
“Hey, hey, Auntie Wency, calm down.
It’s only a possibility right now.
Nothing’s confirmed yet.
The final report comes tomorrow.” “You brat, call me immediately once you get the results!
I still need to report this to upper management!” “Yeah, yeah, I know.” Lidi waved weakly before ending the call.
Then he lay back on the bed, staring at the ceiling with mixed emotions.
Oddly enough, Wency’s reaction had actually improved his mood somewhat.
At least he did not feel as miserable as before.
Still… He was already a twenty-seven-year-old adult beastman.
Yet he still relied on someone unrelated by blood to take care of him.
That always felt awkward.
Looking back over the past decade, after his mother died, Auntie Wency had practically become his guardian.
She arranged his education, planned his future, and even secretly pulled strings to get him his current job.
It felt as though every part of his life had already been scripted out for him.
Right then, an AI robot entered the room while pushing a compact diagnostic cart.
“Greetings, Mr.
Lidi.
I will now collect two blood samples.
One will undergo rapid viral antibody screening.
The second will be transferred to an advanced laboratory for molecular structure analysis.
Before blood collection begins, do you have any objections regarding this procedure?” “No.
Just get it over with.” Lidi barely understood half of what it said.
He only knew they were drawing blood.
So he rolled up his sleeve obediently.
The AI robot moved efficiently, attaching a device to his arm before pressing several commands on the cart’s electronic display.
A cold tingling sensation spread through his arm.
Within mere seconds, his blood had already been transferred into two blue refrigerated test tubes.
There was not even the slightest trace of pain.
“Preliminary screening results may become available tonight.
Full analysis reports will be delivered tomorrow morning.
You will be notified once processing is complete.
Nutritional meals will be distributed at six o’clock.
Please retrieve your meal from the entrance area at that time.” After speaking, the AI robot departed.
The door sealed shut automatically behind it, plunging the room back into silence.
Lidi leaned against the bed, resting his head on the temperature-controlled pillow while staring at the looping constellation projection across the ceiling.
Originally, he thought fourteen days here would feel like prison.
Now it seemed prison might actually be livelier.
He waved a hand to switch the ceiling display and opened the television function.
The news channel appeared immediately.
Another war in some small country.
Parrela.
Barodan.
Casualty numbers.
The Sudadi virus breaking out somewhere else again.
Lidi had no interest in any of it.
He changed channels repeatedly, only to find outdated entertainment programs and remade political dramas.
An indescribable irritation slowly spread through his body.
Headache.
Tense muscles.
Dry eyes.
Even though he had no intention of sleeping, his eyelids felt heavy as lead.
Time passed minute by minute.
No doctors came.
No robots returned.
No diagnostic results appeared.
Outside the world remained bright, noisy, alive with neon lights and endless movement.
Inside this room, however— there was only him.
Breathing quietly beneath the cold blue glow.
“Rotten luck…” he muttered softly.
Turning over, he wrapped his legs around his own tail like a body pillow and closed his eyes.
For the first time in his life— his bed felt too big.