Chapter Thirty-Seven: It Feels Like I’ve Forgotten Something

"What are you all doing here instead of being on duty?" As the three approached the ward, they found a group of nurses gathered at the doorway, peeking inside.

Seeing Pan Anguo and the others come over, the young nurses hurriedly stepped aside and greeted them, "Director Pan, Secretary Xuan, Director Di."

Di Shouye said angrily, "Why are you all crowded here? Head Nurse Zhao, it's one thing for the young ones to be curious, but what are you doing here?"

The older woman, the head nurse of the hospital's internal medicine department, smiled bitterly at his words. "Director Di, it's not that we're here for the excitement. There are two drunkards inside, and we don't know how to deal with them."

"Drunkards?" Di Shouye asked, "Why haven't you called security?"

Head Nurse Zhao replied, "They’re relatives of that heroic police officer. They've already passed out and are sleeping."

Di Shouye retorted, "Is the hospital their bedroom? Wake them up and send them home—this is outrageous!"

Head Nurse Zhao smiled wryly, "Director Di, you know how the saying goes: you can never wake someone who's pretending to sleep, right? I even tried poking them with needles, but it didn't work. We’re just here to see how long they’ll keep up the act."

Pan Anguo laughed, "Little Zhao, are you serious? You jabbed them with needles and they didn’t wake up? Are they dead or something?"

Head Nurse Zhao replied, "Director Pan, why would I lie to you? Go see for yourselves! The two are just like the injured police officer—no matter how we try, they won't wake up."

"Hmm?" Di Shouye paused, then suddenly asked, "How many people are in there?"

Head Nurse Zhao said, "Two. Another one already left."

"Where did he go?" Di Shouye asked.

"He said he was going home. Oh, and before he left, he told us not to worry about his friends, said they were just sleeping. But how could we not worry?" Head Nurse Zhao complained.

Di Shouye thought for a moment, then said urgently, "Quick! Contact the lab, and make sure to get scans—make them as detailed as possible!"

Pan Anguo was startled. "Old Di, what are you planning?"

Di Shouye pulled Pan Anguo aside and lowered his voice. "The injured police officer, Ling Feng, is in the same state—everything looks normal, but he just won’t wake up! These two are his friends. With some tests, we’ll know whether Ling Feng’s case was just a coincidence."

"But... shouldn’t we get their consent for this?" Pan Anguo asked.

Di Shouye pressed, "Is this the time to fuss over procedures? It’s just a health check—what risk could there be? Just pretend you don’t know anything; I’ll take responsibility for whatever happens. Old Pan, trust me on this! If my guess is right, imagine what a discovery this could be."

Pan Anguo considered for a moment, then called to the nurses on the other side, "We’ve never seen anyone get this drunk before. Since this is a hospital, for their health, we need to give them a thorough medical check-up! Get people organized, call back the doctors from the departments that have already finished their shifts. Tell them I said so!"

"Understood!" The nurses quickly got to work.

Pan Anguo glanced at Xuan Shiying, who remained silent, and offered a sheepish grin, "Old Xuan, don’t look at me like that. We’re doing this for their safety, after all..."

After all, they hadn’t followed proper procedure, and hadn’t consulted Xuan Shiying, so he felt the need to explain.

Xuan Shiying was surprised, "Huh? You’re talking to me? Oh, yes, you’re right. I’ll help with the tests. Trust me, I haven’t lost my touch." With that, she turned briskly and headed toward the lab.

Clearly, she was in quite a hurry.

Meanwhile, Yang Meng had no idea what was happening at the hospital—he had gone home to sleep.

Was anything more important than training in the dream realm? Well, perhaps there was.

Early the next morning, he went straight to the city library.

The words of Qian Mazi from the other day had left him deeply shaken.

Nowadays, people always say that studying is useless, that being good-looking is better than excelling at school, that years of hard work can’t compete with the earnings of internet celebrities. They constantly cite Bill Gates and Zuckerberg—neither graduated from college, yet both became world billionaires. His friends' social feeds were full of stories about PhD graduates working for classmates who dropped out years ago.

Yang Meng once believed these things too. Later, he realized that Gates and Zuckerberg didn’t finish university, but they both had wealthy parents! He certainly didn’t. All those who preach the "uselessness of learning" have barely read any books themselves.

So, are there any success stories of people rising from nothing? Of course, there are!

But in a highly developed society with six billion people, how many can achieve that? Those who believe these arguments are simply uneducated, clinging to rare success stories for comfort—dreaming with their eyes open.

The prevalence of such thinking is largely tied to the media. Whenever a graduate or a PhD is duped in a scam, it’s heavily reported, giving the impression that education leads nowhere. They never mention that, out of a thousand victims, only one might be highly educated; nor do they report on how those people managed to earn so much...

In reality, even a used car dealer like Qian Mazi quotes Qian Zhongshu at every turn—how could Yang Meng have any excuse not to learn?

He used to claim that he was too busy working just to make ends meet, but now that he had money in his pocket, not learning was just laziness—no other excuse.

Yang Meng also discovered that reading is the cheapest form of entertainment: register your ID, pay a hundred yuan deposit, and you can read as much as you want. The library even has air conditioning, warm in winter and cool in summer—what comfort! He was already in love with the place. He simply switched off his phone and immersed himself in the sea of knowledge.

But there’s a downside to spending time in the library: it’s too easy to lose oneself. He always felt like he was forgetting something...

Well, nothing is more important than reading!

Though Yang Meng was now the Great Emperor of Dongyue, his memory was impeccable. Others might describe fast readers as "ten lines at a glance," but as a bona fide immortal, Yang Meng now read "a page at a glance." His speed even frightened himself, yet with so many books in the city library, he had spent days reading and still hadn’t finished a tenth of the total collection.

That speed was already remarkable, wasn’t it?

That morning, he intended to return to the library, but was intercepted at home. The person blocking him was none other than Qian Mazi’s lieutenant, Xiangzi.

When Yang Meng opened the door, Xiangzi was asleep, leaning against the courtyard gate. As soon as the gate opened, he fell inside, startling Yang Meng.

"Xiangzi? Why are you here?" Yang Meng asked in confusion.

Xiangzi was nearly in tears when he saw him, "Brother Yang, I finally caught you. Where have you been these days?"

Yang Meng replied, "I haven’t gone anywhere, just been holed up in the library. What’s up?"

Xiangzi took a few license plates from his bag. "Your plates are ready—I’m here to deliver them, but you’re never home!"

Yang Meng slapped his forehead. "Xiangzi, to be honest, I’d completely forgotten about those motorcycles these past few days."

He wasn’t exaggerating; those bikes had been parked inside, and since the plates weren’t on, he hadn’t dared take them out, so he’d forgotten all about them, taking taxis to the library every day.

Xiangzi gave a thumbs up. "Brother Yang, you’re really carefree."

Though he said so, he thought inwardly: free gifts are never cherished—if you’d spent your own money, would you have forgotten?

"Brother Yang, I’ll help you put on the plates, then you can take them for a spin on the mountain!" Xiangzi said as he took out his tools. "Brother Yang, where are the bikes?"

Yang Meng pointed to the storage room. "In there. You install the plates, I’ll go change. You’re right—how could I not take these great bikes out for a ride?"

"Got it, Brother Yang. Leave it to me!" Xiangzi replied with a thumbs up.

With the plates fitted, Yang Meng decided to skip the library that day and go for a mountain ride instead. People need to relax sometimes, right?

But riding a motorcycle in winter really does require preparation—otherwise, you’d freeze.

In the past, poor conditions meant many riders ended up with joint diseases, but now, with proper gear, that rarely happens. Wearing tight-fitting thermal underwear for warmth, a windproof leather riding suit, gloves, and boots, not a breeze could get in, and a long ride might even work up a sweat.

After changing and packing his documents in the riding bag, helmet in hand, he found Xiangzi waiting in the courtyard. "Brother Yang, the plates are all set. Which bike are you planning to ride?"

Yang Meng glanced at Xiangzi—what a silly question. If you weren’t here, I might ride something else, but since you’re Qian Mazi’s man, what else could I ride?

Of course, it had to be the "Six-Eyed Demon" that Qian Mazi gifted him!

Otherwise, if you went back and told Qian Mazi I rode the bike from Zheng Dapao, he’d think I didn’t appreciate his gift.

Yang Meng pushed the "Six-Eyed Demon" out into the yard, mounted it, donned his helmet, and revved the engine a couple of times.

Wow, though the Six-Eyed Demon had a big four-cylinder engine, its roar was surprisingly subdued. Yang Meng felt as if he was riding a beast barely kept in check.

This was his first time on such a heavy, high-powered bike—he’d be lying if he said he wasn’t excited.

"Xiangzi, want to ride up the mountain?" Yang Meng asked. It’s more fun with company.

Xiangzi shook his head, "Brother Yang, I’ve got things to do. By the way, I heard your friend is in the hospital—is everything alright?"

Yang Meng slapped his forehead. "Damn, now I finally remember what I forgot!"