The corridor of the sanatorium was brightly lit, and every now and then, faint traces of air freshener could be smelled.
Yu Sheng carried a small doll, following closely behind the “director” along with Little Red Riding Hood.
Occasionally, staff from the Special Forces would appear in the hallway; whenever they did, they would stop to greet the “director,” who responded politely and warmly.
Everything seemed so “normal”—if you ignored the fact that the director himself was a goldfish.
That towering figure, over two meters tall, walked ahead.
On his broad shoulders was a fish tank bubbling with tiny streams of air.
Inside, the goldfish swam leisurely, its gaze occasionally resting on Yu Sheng.
“Are you curious about this place?” asked the goldfish.
To be honest, whenever this fish spoke in that lazy, magnetic voice, Yu Sheng found it hard to keep his composure—his last time feeling this way was when he first met the “King” and heard a kitten speak with the voice of Zhao Zhongxiang…
“I’m just a little surprised,” Yu Sheng quickly replied despite the fish’s voice making it hard to stay serious.