Chapter 2 

“Amnesia.”

The attending physician dabbed sweat with a handkerchief. The patient was not only physically strong but also fiercely uncooperative, to the point that it took five or six male nurses to restrain him. Such extraordinary strength wasn’t something you’d expect from someone injured—this level of vigor could even rival regular gym-goers.

Chen Linyao stood nearby, sweating just as much. The injured man kept repeating the same three phrases. 

The first was, “I am a prince.” 

The second, “How dare you.” 

The third, “Off with your head.” 

Was he insane? Could the doctor’s diagnosis of amnesia be a way to downplay something more severe?

The police didn’t make much headway in their investigation either. When asked for his address, the other party merely sneered and said, “The imperial palace.” When they inquired about his name, he scoffed and bellowed, “How dare you.” Questions about his parents received an equally dramatic response: “Hmph. My father, the emperor, and my mother, the empress, will show you their wrath when I return.” 

However, when asked about the events leading up to the accident, he paused, thought for a moment, shook his head, and admitted that he could not remember.

“Doctor, could he be mentally ill?” Chen Linyao tried to ask cautiously. After all, she had hit him with her car; accusing him of insanity might make her seem heartless.

“It’s possible. Patients with schizophrenia sometimes display delusional behavior like this. However, apart from the initial confusion, his responses are quite normal.” 

His father was the emperor, and his mother, the empress? Was this what the doctor considered normal? 

Chen Linyao’s eye twitched as the doctor cleared his throat and elaborated. “He’s not avoiding our questions. If he truly believes himself to be a prince, then in his mind, every answer he’s given is factual. Of course, we all know that monarchy has long been abolished, so there are no princes anymore.” The doctor paused briefly before adding, “My guess is that he might be an actor who was playing the role of a prince. After the accident, he’s become confused and can’t recall his real life. Alternatively, he could have amnesia and schizophrenia simultaneously.” 

No one dared to laugh at the young man. The other party had been hit by a car, suddenly lost his memory, and taken on a role he believed had been assigned to him. His dedication to the role seemed Oscar-worthy that his speech was devoid of any modern terms.

“What should we do next?” 

“We might need to keep him in the hospital for a while to determine if his condition is truly amnesia or schizophrenia. What do you think?” the doctor asked for a suggestion.

The man’s inability to provide identification posed a significant challenge. What was clear, however, was that Chen Linyao would have to shoulder the medical costs.

The receipt for his first night in the hospital had already sent shivers down her spine. When the doctor mentioned the ongoing cost of 4,000 yuan per night, the world seemed to tilt. 

Initially, the doctor suggested a week-long observation period, but after much pleading, Chen Linyao managed to negotiate it down to three days, saving herself 16,000 yuan.

“Amnesia.”

Three days later, the doctor repeated the same diagnosis, this time with even greater confidence. 

“The patient communicates normally and answers questions coherently, though he remains confused about certain aspects of daily life. However, he’s adapting quickly and has even acknowledged that he might truly have lost his memory.” 

Chen Linyao was taken aback. If he really had amnesia, it was clearly her fault. She decided to press for clarity. 

“Could he be faking it?” 

“Patients with schizophrenia and delusions rarely admit to their own issues. This young man, however, spent a lot of time reflecting before agreeing that he might have made mistakes. On top of that, he’s been polite and cheerful overall. In fact, quite a few of our nurses have fallen for him.” The doctor chuckled.

“And…” Chen Linyao said, glancing at the female police officer in charge of the case, who was seated beside her. “What should we do next?”

The doctor offered a sheepish smile before telling. “That’s up to you. Do you want the patient to stay in the hospital until his memory recovers, or will you take another approach?”

If he remained in the hospital, the cost would drop to 2,000 yuan per night for ongoing memory recovery care. 

Chen Linyao’s salary was only 6,000 yuan a month, with commissions bringing it to around 10,000 yuan on a good month. Letting him stay in the hospital for six more days would completely drain her finances. While earning over 10,000 yuan a month was considered successful at her age, unexpected events like this made it clear that even such income could quickly be insufficient.

Waiting for his memory to return—who knew how long that would take? By then, even selling herself might not cover the debt.

The doctor avoided addressing the financial aspect directly, but a nurse suggested that Chen Linyao take the patient home. Since there were no external injuries and he was in good physical health, there wasn’t much that could be done except wait for his memory to return naturally—a process modern medicine still struggled to hasten.

“Officer, he’s a man, and he’s physically strong. Isn’t it inappropriate for him to stay with me?” 

The female officer forced a smile. “It’s certainly not ideal. But if he stays in the hospital, can you afford the medical bills?”

And so, Chen Linyao shed tears in her heart as she reluctantly brought the patient home.