Chapter 4: Is the Typhoon Wind Field Map a Source of Transmission?

Director Yang had just stepped off the plane and, without even resting, immediately led a group of doctors to the Central Hospital.

After donning the barely protective hazmat suits alongside his colleagues, they hurried nonstop toward the top-tier isolation ward.

This isolation ward occupied an entire vacant floor on the penthouse level, designated solely for quarantine purposes. Not only were protective barriers and temporary disinfection tents installed within the fire escape stairwells, but the elevators had also been shut down.

Everyone ascending to this floor had to pass through the disinfection tents.

No regular medical staff were stationed on this entire top floor; only members of the medical support teams were present.

After a brief spray of disinfectant in the tent, Professor Yang entered the nearest patient room first.

Inside the gloomy chamber, six patients lay motionless on their beds, emitting only faint, barely audible murmurs.

He first shone a flashlight to check the pupil responses of the closest patient, then systematically examined their body according to standard procedures. The other doctors arrived one after another following their own disinfection and began checking the remaining patients.

The simple examinations were quick. Having seen countless cases over the years, Director Yang was an expert and swiftly completed the assessment of this patient.

“It’s exactly as the report said. Apart from malnutrition and slight sub-health, there’s no obvious illness,” he concluded, putting away the flashlight and glancing at the doctors beside the other beds.

“Same here. Nothing noticeable,” one said.

“Me too,” another replied.

“This one’s similar, though there’s some lack of exercise.”

“The symptoms they have are typical of patients bedridden for long periods. Anyone lying still for a couple of days would show similar signs,” Director Yang reflected briefly, then waved his hand. “Alright, I understand. I recall there are other medical teams here who arrived earlier. Let’s check with them and see what they’ve found.”

“They’re over by the nurse’s station,” someone answered.

Given such a strange infectious disease, regular medical staff were forbidden from ascending this floor, and even the support teams tried to avoid leaving once they arrived. Naturally, the conveniently located nurse’s station had been transformed into their base of operations.

Yang pushed open the door and immediately saw the heavily modified nurse’s station. To his surprise, the small space contained a massive disinfection tent, and even the hallway was tightly blocked off.

After disinfecting again in the tent, they glanced at the largest office and stepped inside—only to almost trip on the floor.

Fortunately, he caught himself by grabbing the doorframe.

Inside, various medical instruments lay scattered across the floor. Several people clad in bright yellow Class A airtight suits stood with their backs turned, all focused on the computer monitor against the far wall.

On the screen swirled a vortex—Director Yang studied it carefully and realized it was a typhoon map from a weather forecast.

“Hey, who’s in charge here?” Yang asked, tapping the nearest person.

The man twitched, looking at Yang in confusion.

“Hm? Where are you from? I thought no one was allowed up here.”

“We’re the Nanhua Medical Support Team. I’m the lead, Yang Tianyou.”

“You’re Director Yang? Oh, I’ve heard of you. You published that viral-cell transmission study—I even recommended it to my students. Didn’t expect you to be here for this outbreak.”

“Let’s get to business. Who’s in charge here?”

The man smiled wryly. “Nobody listens to anyone here. Especially since we lost some team members, the atmosphere’s tense. I’m Dr. Wu from Beihua Medical College, a microbiologist, and part of the Beihua medical group. Call me Xiao Wu. If you want to know anything, just ask.”

“Alright, I’ll ask—have you made any discoveries since you arrived? Any clarity on the cause or transmission?”

“No. We haven’t found anything, and our team suspects the pathogen might not even exist.”

“Impossible. At least you should have identified some suspicious agent.”

Xiao Wu shook his head helplessly. “We really found nothing. Our superiors gave us broad authority, and all the famous labs in coastal Zhuming are cooperating fully. We’ve spent nearly a million just on specimen testing.”

Director Yang frowned, looking at the remaining team members inside. When his group entered and spoke to Xiao Wu, not a single person turned around.

“Then why are you all just watching the weather forecast? What are you doing here?” Yang asked.

Xiao Wu sighed. “Not sure if you’ve heard, but this disease has appeared elsewhere.”

“What?” Yang found it hard to believe. “We just got off the plane. Tell me more.”

“Just got off the plane? That explains it,” Xiao Wu nodded. “We were just informed that two days ago, meteorological stations in Kuanghai, Changping, and Fangjiang reported people with similar symptoms. They were mild cases, very few in number, and without delirium, so they were diagnosed as fainting from fatigue.”

“And after that?”

“Patients later developed delirium symptoms today and were reported by vigilant local doctors. They’re now also isolated.”

“What’s the cause? These coastal cities are hundreds of kilometers apart. The infection source can’t be airborne over such distances, right?”

Xiao Wu’s face was one of disbelief.

Director Yang felt a pang in his chest. “Your expression... Do you know something?”

Xiao Wu wanted to scratch his head but was encased tightly in the Class A suit. He moved his arm slightly but gave up.

“That’s right. After the cases were reported, there was suspicion of sabotage targeting meteorological stations. The police investigated, and all stations were operational with staff closely monitoring the typhoon. This typhoon might hit land with unprecedented Pacific moisture—you know how things have been lately.”

Yang grew impatient. “Kid, why beat around the bush? Just get to the point. What do you know about the infection source and transmission?”

“Yes, about that.”

Xiao Wu pointed at the monitor, where the typhoon’s wind field map slowly rotated.

“What?”

“Yes, this wind field map. At least, that’s what the Academy of Sciences people think.”

“Don’t joke around. You’re not messing with me, are you?”

“Really. The police reviewed surveillance footage and found something shocking: despite being hundreds of miles apart, patients fell ill simultaneously. The only common factor was watching this wind field animation.”

“No way,” Director Yang muttered in his hometown dialect. “This video isn’t a virus or microorganism—just signals. How could it infect anyone?”

“We’re not entirely disbelieving either. Look, everyone’s watching it. The police sent it over. Everyone’s trying to see if it’s real.”

The newly arrived doctors listened attentively, but their expressions were like those of elders staring blankly at a subway phone—each one feeling their worldview shaken.

“If this is true, aren’t you all courting death? Just staring at it like that?”

Xiao Wu looked at Director Yang with a tone full of despair. “Several of my juniors in the medical team have fallen ill. Yet we’ve made no progress. We can only helplessly watch patients deteriorate and wait for death. No offense, but this is our only clue these past two days. We have no choice but to grasp at it.”

Yang sighed deeply.

“Alright, you keep watching. I’ll talk with my doctors here.”

“Good. The nurse station computer has a copy of this video too.”

Director Yang nodded and looked at the doctors fixated on the screen.

“Alright, don’t just stand around. Gather all these instruments. We’ll conduct another round of examinations.”

“Whether it’s true or not, we’ll discuss and figure out what’s really going on.”