Hospital-Style Hotel

Zhang Qiang dragged his tired body into the hotel called "Anxinju." During check-in, the receptionist's smile seemed a bit mechanical, and her white uniform made him feel like it was overly formal. He didn't think much of it, assuming the hotel had a "minimalist" style.

The elevator doors opened, revealing a hallway that made him gasp: white walls, bright white lights, metallic door numbers – this wasn't a hotel corridor, it was clearly a hospital ward! Even the room number plates looked like patient room numbers.

He took out his room key card and swiped it to open his door. Inside, the sheets were white, the walls were white, the curtains were white, and even the disposable slippers were white. The room contained a stainless steel bedside table, upon which was placed a white plastic water cup, and a plastic medicine box labeled “Anxinju Special.” This layout was practically a replica of a single-person hospital room!

Zhang Qiang felt something was off. He walked over to the window and pulled back the curtains. Outside wasn't a cityscape at night, but a hazy, gray view, very much like the scenes he'd seen in hospital isolation areas.

A bit impatiently, he picked up the phone and dialed the front desk number. “Hello, I’d like to ask, why is the decor of your hotel so similar to a hospital?”

The receptionist's sweet voice came from the other end: "Dear guest, welcome to Anxinju! We are dedicated to providing our guests with the ultimate peace-of-mind experience. Our design concept is an extension of 'home,' allowing you to feel the warmth of home while you're traveling."

“Warmth? You call this warmth? This is clearly a hospital!” Zhang Qiang raised his voice.

"Sir, please don't worry. Anxinju uses the most advanced 'healing' design, aimed to help relieve your travel fatigue and care for your physical and mental health."

Zhang Qiang hung up the phone, feeling absurd. He walked to the bedside, picked up the plastic medicine box, and opened it. Inside were a few white pills imprinted with the word "Anxin." He picked one up, looked at it closely. There was no production date, nor an ingredient list.

He decided to go downstairs and ask the front desk for clarification.

In the lobby, he saw several staff members in white uniforms busily working, like a group of doctors and nurses in white coats. He walked to the front desk, pointed at the pill he brought and said: "What is this? Are you guys confused? This isn't a hospital, is it!"

The receptionist was still smiling: “Sir, please don’t worry, this is our hotel’s special ‘Sleep Pill’, which can help you fall asleep quickly and enjoy a deep sleep.”

“Sleep? How could I dare to eat this stuff? Tell me, what exactly is this hotel?” Zhang Qiang's tone carried a hint of anger.

The receptionist’s smile stiffened for a moment, then resumed her previous sweetness: "Sir, our hotel is built in strict accordance with the ‘full life cycle health management’ concept, and is committed to providing you with comprehensive health services. During your stay, we will conduct real-time monitoring of your body data, and provide you with personalized health plans."

"Health plans? Monitoring data? Are you treating me like a patient?"

The receptionist smiled faintly and pointed to his room card on his chest, saying, “Sir, your health file has been automatically generated. Please rest assured that all our services are for your health.”

Zhang Qiang looked down. In addition to the room number, there was a QR code on his room card. He scanned it with his mobile phone. His personal information appeared on the mobile screen, including his name, age, height, weight, and even some "health data" that he didn't even know existed.

He felt a chill run down his spine. This wasn't a hotel, but a large-scale health monitoring base! He suddenly remembered what happened at the company today; the leader announced a new performance appraisal plan, saying it was for the "healthy growth" of employees, asking everyone to hand over all their data, under the guise of "fine-grained management," just like this "Anxinju."

Looking at the smile on the receptionist’s face, he felt incredibly ironic. When did society become like this?

He silently turned around and went back to his room. He didn’t eat the “Sleep Pill”, instead, he took out his mobile phone, preparing to post on his friend circle: “I checked into a hospital, no, a ‘hotel’."

Before he could send it, the light in the room suddenly flickered a few times. Then a mechanical voice sounded: "Dear guest, your sleep monitoring data is abnormal. Please take a Sleep Pill in time to ensure sleep quality."

Zhang Qiang looked up at the ceiling. He understood, he was trapped in this "health" cage. He picked up that white pill, without hesitation, and swallowed it. He wanted to see where this absurdity would finally take him. He showed a bitter smile. Perhaps this is the truth about "health" in modern society, how exquisitely packaged, yet how suffocating the core is.