Purgatory Behind High Walls

The heavy iron gate slammed shut behind him, isolating him from the outside world and seemingly dividing Qin Ming's life into two parts.

Previously, he was Doctor Qin, a respected doctor in a white coat, a key yet hidden cog in the massive machine of Ankang Hospital; now, he is just an inmate numbered "1078" in cell 107 of the detention center.

When Qin Ming first entered the cell, he still harbored a sliver of wishful thinking and an outdated intellectual's arrogance. He tried to remain calm, observing the narrow, crowded space filled with the mixed smells of sweat and disinfectant. The communal sleeping area, the concrete floor, the exposed squat toilet in the corner—everything was a far cry from the sterile environment and private office he was familiar with.

He was pushed in by a prison guard surnamed Wang, who had no expression on his face. After briefly explaining the cell rules, Wang locked the door and left. Qin Ming noticed that Guard Wang's gaze lingered on him for a moment. His eyes were complicated, not like the scrutiny one would give to an ordinary new prisoner, but rather like... confirming some information.

There were already seven or eight people in the cell, some sitting, some lying down, all their eyes fixed on him, the newcomer, with undisguised scrutiny and assessment. One burly man lying in the best bunk (farthest from the toilet) stood out. He wasn't particularly tall, but his muscles were bulging, his neck was thick, and a hideous Scar ran from his brow bone to his chin. His eyes were as fierce as a hungry wolf's. His name was Zheng Qi, and he was undoubtedly the "first bunkmate" in this cell.

Qin Ming tried to keep a low profile and, as instructed, placed his toiletries next to the worst bunk, the one closest to the toilet. He knew the rules here: newcomers, especially those like him who looked weak and had gotten in because of "trouble," were the easiest targets for bullying.

However, he underestimated the intensity and malice of this "bullying".

The calm lasted for less than half a day. After returning from his break, Zheng Qi, with a cigarette "gifted" to him by someone else, swaggered over to Qin Ming and, without saying a word, kicked him in the shinbone!

The excruciating pain caused Qin Ming to scream in agony and curl up on the ground.

"New guy, don't you know the rules?" Zheng Qi's voice was hoarse and unpleasant, like sandpaper scraping. "I'm thirsty. Go get me a glass of water."

Despite the pain, Qin Ming struggled to reach for the thermos flask in the corner.

"Use that." Zheng Qi pointed with his chin to a stained, broken plastic basin next to the squat toilet, used for rinsing mops.

Qin Ming was stunned, a wave of humiliation washing over him. "You..."

"What do you mean, 'what do you mean'?" A tall, thin henchman next to Zheng Qi stepped forward and slapped Qin Ming on the back of the head. "Just do what Brother Qi tells you to do! Are you deaf?"

Qin Ming wanted to argue, but Zheng Qi impatiently grabbed his hair and slammed his face against the cold cement wall, causing blood to gush from his nose.

"Here, my word is law," Zheng Qi whispered menacingly in his ear. "If you don't want to suffer, be smarter."

Finally, under the watchful eyes of several menacing figures, Qin Ming trembled as he filled the broken basin used for rinsing mops with water and handed it to Zheng Qi. Zheng Qi didn't even glance at it, casually flicked some cigarette ash into the basin, then took it, symbolically moistened his lips, and poured the entire basin of water over Qin Ming's head.

"Useless, can't even pour water properly." Zheng Qi sneered, and a chorus of laughter echoed around him.

This is just the beginning.

For Qin Ming, the days that followed were like torture in purgatory.

During mealtimes, his food was always the worst; the meat would be snatched away, and occasionally a cigarette butt would be found among the vegetables. If he was even slightly dissatisfied or slow, Zheng Qi or his henchmen would "accidentally" spill soup on him, or simply snatch his food bowl and dump its contents into the trash can.

When he slept, his bunk near the toilet was always filled with an unbearable stench and dampness. He would often be kicked awake in the middle of the night and made to clean the toilet, scrubbing it over and over with a toothbrush until it shone with a nauseating shine. If he slacked off even slightly, he would be punched and kicked.

In his daily life, he became the scapegoat and amusement tool for the entire cell. He was forced to bark like a dog, imitate a clown, and hurl insults at himself with all sorts of derogatory terms. Zheng Qi seemed to enjoy tormenting him, beating him when he was in a good mood and beating him even harder when he was in a bad mood. The places he was beaten were carefully chosen, mostly the abdomen and inner thighs, areas that were not easy to leave obvious scars, but were still extremely painful.

Qin Ming had considered resisting, but how could someone who wielded a scalpel all his life possibly be a match for a ruthless bandit like Zheng Qi? Every act of resistance only resulted in more brutal beatings and more humiliating punishments.

He had tried to ask the prison guards on patrol for help, but each time it was either that Guard Wang with his complicated look or other guards who seemed to be blind to the problem. They turned a blind eye to the "JPMorgan Chase" in the cell, at most giving a few perfunctory reprimands like "behave yourselves" before turning and leaving.

Qin Ming realized with despair that here, there was no one to turn to for help. Zheng Qi's unbridled behavior and the prison guards' indifference were like an intricately woven net, trapping him firmly in this small space, subjecting him to endless physical and mental torture.

His prized medical knowledge, his ability to control the health and even life and death of others, became a useless joke here. He was just a number, a prisoner who could be trampled on and humiliated at will.

The invisible sense of power and superiority he once felt in the hospital was utterly shattered and crushed into dust here. He began to wither rapidly, his eyes became sunken, his body was covered with bruises, and his gaze became numb and empty. Only when the night was deep and quiet, surrounded by the stench of the toilet and the snoring of his fellow inmates, could he feel a bone-chilling cold and fear.

Within these high walls and electric fences lies a purgatory tailor-made for him. And the flames of this purgatory seem to have only just begun to burn.