Mia: Alright, so, picture this: we had this epic story lined up for today's episode, right? But the universe, or maybe just our hard drive, decided to play a cruel joke. The source material we got? Totally, absolutely, gloriously corrupted. Like, unreadable. Poof.
Mars: Oh, it's the stuff of nightmares, isn't it? As a content person, you've got this prime real estate, this empty slot, begging for a story. And then... *poof*, the entire foundation just evaporates. It's like someone handed you a blank canvas and said, Describe the masterpiece that *should* be here. You're just staring at air, trying to conjure themes, characters, a plot – from nothing!
Mia: So, when your storytelling well runs bone dry like that, what's the game plan? Do you just throw your hands up and say, Well, guess we're doing a silent episode today!
Mars: Alright, so the cardinal rule of podcasting, or just, you know, being a decent human: you don't just invent stuff. But here's where it gets wild: even from this digital disaster, a few crumbs, actual little data packets, managed to escape the void. Five bullet points. That's it. No epic intro, no grand narrative, just a list of the most bizarre, out-of-context facts you can imagine.
Mia: Okay, now you've got my full attention. This is like finding a few torn pages from a diary that washed ashore after a shipwreck. Lay 'em on me. What do they say?
Mars: Let's dive in. The very first one reads: The protagonist unknowingly drew his own blood instead of the patient's.
Mia: Hold on, what?! A medical professional, like, accidentally pricking themselves and taking their *own* blood? That sounds like a colossal screw-up. Almost impossible, unless... it wasn't an accident.
Mars: Exactly! That's the hook, right? Why on earth would that happen? And the second fragment actually gives us a massive clue about this patient. It says: The patient, despite appearing healthy and vibrant, is an unknown parasitic entity that feeds on human blood.
Mia: So the patient isn't a patient. It's a *thing*. A creature. And it looks all healthy and vibrant because it's been having a grand old time... feeding. That completely changes everything about the first point. Maybe the doctor couldn't even find a vein on this thing.
Mars: And that leads us straight into the third fragment, which is where things get truly unsettling: The patient's veins are visibly empty of blood, yet they emit a strong, eerie bloody odor.
Mia: Oh, no. That is genuinely nightmare fuel. Can you imagine being a doctor, looking down at an arm where a vein *should* be, and there's just... nothing? An empty channel under the skin. And yet, the air around you just reeks of blood. The sheer psychological pressure in that moment must be absolutely crushing.
Mars: It explains that first point perfectly, doesn't it? Our protagonist, let's just call him Dr. Ye, as the title hints, is in this room. He needs a blood sample. This patient looks fine, but has no actual blood. So, in a moment of pure, desperate panic, or maybe to test his own equipment, or even to satisfy this *thing's* hunger... he draws his *own* blood.
Mia: Okay, so he manages to get a sample. What happens when he tries to analyze it? Because I have a sneaking suspicion this isn't going to be your typical lab result.
Mars: You are absolutely correct. The fourth point is chilling to the bone. It says: When analyzed, the patient's blood solidifies into a viscous mass and displays distorted human faces on the screen.
Mia: Distorted human faces?! On the *analysis screen*? That's not science, that's straight out of a horror movie! So this blood isn't just blood. It's... a record of its victims? Like, a morbid trophy room in liquid form?
Mars: It certainly seems that way. It's evidence, isn't it? The blood itself is a testament to the entity's true, horrifying nature. It's not just consuming people; it's absorbing them, fundamentally. This isn't just a medical mystery anymore; we've crossed squarely into the supernatural.
Mia: And this is all going down inside a hospital. What on earth does an institution even *do* with something like this? You can't just jot that down on a patient chart. Patient has no blood, smells of blood, and their blood sample shows faces. Standard procedure.
Mars: That brings us to the final fragment, which heavily hints at a massive cover-up, or at the very least, some kind of containment protocol. It says: All suspicious blood from blood-transfusion patients is collected and stored in the hospital morgue.
Mia: So this isn't a one-off. Suspicious blood implies they have a whole category for this stuff. They know something is deeply, fundamentally wrong, even if they can't quite grasp what it is. They're collecting it, maybe studying it, or perhaps just trying to keep it hidden away in the morgue.
Mars: It paints such a vivid picture of a hidden, ongoing struggle unfolding within those hospital walls. They're fighting a battle they simply can't talk about. When you put all five of these bizarre fragments together, you get this absolutely incredible, terrifying narrative of a doctor who just stumbles headfirst into a parasitic entity wearing a human face.
Mia: From a totally corrupted file to *this*. It's a story of a doctor who, in a moment of truth, has to face an enemy that completely defies all logic and science.
Mars: Exactly. It's no longer just a routine medical procedure. It's Dr. Ye Yuanduan's desperate battle against a blood-draining enigma.
