Collapse and Signal
Time lost its original meaning in the detention center, leaving only endless, repetitive torment. For Qin Ming, each sunrise was not the beginning of hope, but the unveiling of another round of purgatory.
Physical torture has become routine.
Zheng Qi seemed to have made tormenting him a regular form of entertainment and a necessary means of establishing his authority. The beatings were no longer just an outlet for emotions, but more like a cold-blooded "routine job."
He would place thick books under Qin Ming's chest and back, then punch him hard. This would only cause severe internal organ tremors and pain, but would not leave any obvious external injuries.
They would order Qin Ming to maintain an extremely painful posture for a long time, such as squatting with his head against a wall, until his legs trembled, he was sweating profusely, and finally collapsed from exhaustion, after which he would be mocked and kicked.
Meals were still a humiliation. Not only were his meals skimped on, but sometimes Zheng Qi would spit into his porridge bowl in front of him, or flick cigarette ash into it, then grin and order him, "Eat it all up, Doctor Qin, to replenish your trace elements." If Qin Ming hesitated even slightly, his face would be shoved into that filthy bowl the next moment.
Sleep was a luxury. The stench near the toilet was an inescapable nightmare. In the dead of night, he was often awakened by the cold, dirty water from washing the mop, or forced to use the toothbrush he once used for precision surgery, now only good for cleaning the toilet bowl, to clean every crevice of the latrine again and again, until his fingernails were filled with grime and his throat was filled with nauseating acid.
Even worse than physical pain is the complete collapse of one's spirit.
He was once the respected "Doctor Qin." At Ankang Hospital, a single word from him could determine a patient's treatment plan and even affect the fate of a family. Dressed in a crisp white coat, he walked down the clean corridors, enjoying the awe-inspiring and even fawning gazes of patients' families. He believed himself to be in a sophisticated fortress built of knowledge and power.
But now, dressed in the uniform, musty-smelling prison gown, he huddled in a stinking corner like a mangy dog. His "professional knowledge" was worthless here, even becoming fodder for ridicule from Zheng Qi and the others—"Hey, Doctor Qin, take a look at this fist of mine, which pressure point hurts the most when I hit you?"
His intellectual pride, hidden deep within his heart, was ruthlessly crushed by reality, trampled into the mud. The last shred of dignity he tried to maintain collapsed completely when Zheng Qi ordered him to crawl like a dog and squeeze between his legs. At that moment, he heard the sound of something inside him shattering, crisp and desperate.
He began having frequent nightmares, dreaming of bloody, mangled scenes on the operating table, and the distorted faces of Patient he had overtreated, who ultimately lost both their health and money. They stretched out their pale hands, trying to drag him into endless darkness. When he woke up, he was covered in cold sweat, his heart pounding, and the deafening snoring and babbling of his fellow inmates echoed in his ears.
Despair, like an icy tide, gradually engulfed him.
Under sustained high pressure, their psychological defenses finally began to crumble.
He stopped resisting, and even stopped showing humiliation and anger. He did whatever Zheng Qi told him to do numbly. When the beating came, he would curl up in advance to protect his vitals and silently endure it. He ignored the insulting words and stared blankly at the mottled ceiling.
A terrible thought, like a poisonous weed, sprouted in his barren heart.
"Confess your guilt..."
He was startled when the idea first came to him. But soon, it became incredibly tempting.
"If I just admit to... admit to those accusations, even just part of them... I can leave this hellhole, right?"
"After the court verdict, he'll be sent to a proper prison to serve his sentence. That place... should be better than here, right? At least, there won't be a monster like Zheng Qi there..."
"Here, I might be tortured to death, or go completely insane..."
The thought grew clearer and more resolute. He even began to mentally calculate which insignificant charges he could confess to, satisfying some of the police's demands while allowing him to escape the detention center as quickly as possible. As for the sentence after confessing, and the future... he no longer cared. The pain before him was too real; he only wanted to escape this living hell known as Cell 107 as soon as possible.
Submission became his only way out in his subconscious.
Just as he was about to be completely consumed by this despairing thought and was preparing to "cooperate well" during the next interrogation, a turning point arrived quietly in a way he never expected.
It was an afternoon that seemed no different from any other. The cell door opened, and Prison Guard Li appeared at the door for his routine patrol, his expressionless face conveying his presence. He paced back and forth, his gaze sweeping over each person in the cell.
As he approached Qin Ming, the Prison Guard Li slowed his pace almost imperceptibly. His gaze seemed to unintentionally meet Qin Ming's for a moment, as Qin Ming was curled up on his bunk with a blank expression.
In that instant, Qin Ming saw that the Guard Wang, with his right hand hanging by his side, quickly and discreetly tapped his outer thigh three times with his index and middle fingers together.
The movements were so small as to be almost negligible, yet so fast as to seem like a hallucination caused by days of torture.
But Qin Ming's pupils suddenly contracted!
He understands that gesture!
This is not ordinary body language; it is one of the secret codes used by Mr. Wei's inner circle to convey the most urgent and dangerous signals! Three taps represent... "If things are hopeless, make plans as soon as possible," or, in other words, it is the final instruction to the "tail" that is about to be discarded when "cutting off the tail to survive."
An extremely complex emotion instantly surged into Qin Ming's heart. There was the cold despair of being abandoned, the fear of the unknown outcome, but more than anything, there was an indescribable, twisted sense of relief.
He understood.
The police must have found a crucial, potentially fatal, breakthrough; otherwise, Mr. Wei wouldn't have used this deeply buried clue to send him a signal that was tantamount to "giving up" and "preparing for the worst."
This piece of his has already been considered a sacrifice.
But at the same time, this also means that his endless, dark torture in this detention center is likely coming to an end. Whether he is transferred to a harsher prison, faces a more severe trial, or even... a worse ending, it is better than continuing to stay here and endure Zheng Qi's abuse day after day.
Prison Guard Li showed no extra expression or movement, as if everything that had just happened was merely Qin Ming's illusion. He continued walking, completed his inspection, and then, as usual, left the cell with a blank expression, locking the door again.
The heavy sound of the iron door closing echoed in the deathly silent cell.
Qin Ming remained curled up, motionless. Zheng Qi was cursing something in vulgar language beside him, but he seemed not to hear it.
He slowly and very slightly exhaled a breath of stale air that had been trapped in his chest for so long. His nerves, which had been taut to the point of breaking, strangely relaxed.
Although the road ahead was still shrouded in terrifying darkness, at least behind him, in this burning inferno called "Cell 107," it seemed... he could finally leave.