A New Cage

As the iron gate of the prison van closed behind him, the engine started, and it carried him away from the gloomy and oppressive building of the city detention center, Qin Ming leaned against the cold interior wall of the van and let out a long, deep breath.

That breath seemed to have been pent up for centuries, carrying the distinctive musty smell, disinfectant smell, and the bloody smell left by Zheng Qi's fists, all characteristic of the detention center.

They've left.

We're finally out of that hell!

Despite the uncertainty of his future and the fact that he was going to a mental hospital, Qin Ming's initial trepidation was followed by an overwhelming surge of almost ecstatic relief and liberation. A mental hospital? So what! Could it be worse than a detention center? Could there be anything more terrifying than Zheng Qi, that demon who took pleasure in torturing people?

He recalled the targeted training he had secretly received under Mr. Wei's arrangement to prepare for potential crises.

The mysterious "coach" explained in detail the process of forensic psychiatric evaluation, commonly used scales, and details that senior experts might pay attention to.

He learned how to accurately "perform" the typical symptoms of bipolar disorder: during periods of elevated mood, he could exhibit flight of ideas, increased speech, and inflated self-esteem; during periods of depression, he could simulate low mood, loss of interest, and even mild delusions of nihilism.

He practiced repeatedly until the switching of those "symptoms" became natural, until he could "just right" express his uncertainty and vague understanding of his own behavior, so as to reflect the impact of the disease without being judged as having completely lost his ability to recognize it.

It was this meticulously prepared "script" and repeated rehearsals that allowed him to successfully "deceive" the experienced experts and forensic team from the provincial department, obtaining the crucial forensic opinion that suggested he had impaired cognitive and volitional abilities at the time of the crime. This was his trump card for acquittal and the source of his current confidence.

He recalled Zheng Qi's ferocious smile, the dull punch that slammed into his chest and abdomen, the dirty water used to rinse the mop, and the endless humiliation... His body trembled involuntarily, only to be replaced by an even stronger hope.

The performance was already half successful. Next, he would continue to "play" a Patient was gradually stabilizing and needed rehabilitation in the mental hospital. Mr. Wei certainly had further plans, perhaps to use money to pull strings, or perhaps to find an opportunity to transfer him to a better private institution... The future seemed to be looking bright again.

"Mental hospital..." he murmured, a twisted, victorious smile even appearing on his lips. He believed he could control the situation.

Sunlight streamed through the narrow wire mesh windows of the prison van, casting dappled shadows on his face. He watched the streets, pedestrians, and vehicles rushing past outside the window; all these ordinary scenes now filled him with a long-lost sense of freedom. He gazed greedily, as if trying to etch it all into his mind.

The vehicle eventually entered the "Municipal Mental Health Center" located on the outskirts of the city. The tall iron gate slowly opened, revealing neatly trimmed lawns and several white buildings. The environment looked even more "beautiful" than the detention center. This further solidified Qin Ming's belief—his choice was correct.

However, his relief at surviving the ordeal and the hope he secretly harbored vanished as soon as he stepped into the white building marked "Intensive Care and Behavioral Correction Ward," like a balloon punctured by a needle.

Unlike the relative tranquility of the regular ward area, the atmosphere here was much more somber and oppressive. The air was thick with a strong odor, a mixture of disinfectant, medication, and something indescribable that belonged to "out of control" itself. Occasionally, shrill screams or cries would drift from the depths of the corridor, blocked by heavy doors, sending chills down one's spine.

The handover process was cold and mechanical. Afterward, two burly, expressionless male caregivers came over and "accompanied" him, one on each side, towards the ward area. Their cold eyes, with a scrutinizing gaze as if looking at an object, began to shake Qin Ming's newly established confidence.

"Go in and take off your clothes," one of the caregivers commanded in a flat, monotone voice in a room that resembled a treatment room.

Qin Ming was taken aback, trying to maintain a semblance of decorum. "What? I'm a doctor! I need a psychological evaluation and medication, not this..."

"Here, you're just Patient, number 7409." Another caregiver impatiently interrupted him, not giving him a chance to explain, and directly reached out, roughly tearing at his prison uniform. The sound of tearing fabric rang out shrilly.

Qin Ming tried to struggle, shouting, "I have the right! You can't do this!" But his strength seemed laughable in front of the two professional caregivers. Like a lamb to the slaughter, he was forcibly stripped naked and stood in the cold room, undergoing the most thorough and humiliating examination. Every inch of his skin was carefully examined, every pore was inspected, and there was no dignity to speak of. The medical knowledge and human rights clauses he had learned seemed pale and ridiculous here.

"Turn around, bend over, cough." The cold command was executed mechanically.

Qin Ming gritted his teeth, tears of humiliation welling up in his eyes, but he forced them back. He told himself that this was just a show of force, a necessary procedure, and that he would get through it. Once he saw the attending physician, he would be able to communicate with "professional" language and turn the situation around.

However, what happened next completely shattered all his illusions.

After the examination, instead of receiving a hospital gown, he was forcibly put into a special, thick, and sturdy restraint garment, his hands were fixed in front of his body. Then, he was taken to a private ward.

The room's walls were covered in soft, white material to prevent bumping into them. There were no windows, only a heavy iron door with an observation window. Apart from a specially made hospital bed fixed to the floor, the room was empty. It didn't feel like a hospital room; it felt more like a confinement cage.

"Lie down," the caregiver ordered.

Alarm bells rang in Qin Ming's mind. He resisted, "No, what are you trying to do? I just need treatment, I'm not a violent Patient! I demand to see the attending physician!"

His protests went unanswered. Two caregivers, one on each side, easily pinned him down on the hospital bed like a puppet. The next moment, his wrists and ankles were professionally and securely bound to the four corners of the bed with tough leather straps. The straps were so tight that they dug deep into his flesh, ensuring that he could not make any large movements, and even turning over became a luxury.

"You... this is illegal! This is torture!" Qin Ming struggled violently, his voice distorted with fear and anger.

A caregiver completely ignored his cries, skillfully pulled down his pants, and put an adult diaper on him. The rough material and the overwhelming, indescribable shame that surged through him made Qin Ming stiffen, as if his soul had been defiled.

Another caregiver leaned down, her expressionless face close to Qin Ming's, and spoke in an extremely calm yet final tone:

"Listen, 7409. The first rule here is: no talking."

The second rule is: Don't move around.

"The third rule is: whether you need to urinate or defecate, you must do it in your pants. A caregiver will clean you up regularly."

Qin Ming stared wide-eyed at the other person in disbelief. This wasn't treatment; it was clearly... the most complete destruction of one's personality!

"If you break any of these rules," the caregiver straightened up, picked up a pre-prepared syringe from the treatment cart beside her, the needle gleaming coldly, filled with a clear liquid, "See? This is a sedative. We'll give you an injection."

He paused, his gaze falling on Qin Ming's pupils, which were constricted violently by extreme fear, and added a sentence that, like a red-hot iron, seared deeply into Qin Ming's heart:

"You're a medical student, you should know about this medicine, right?"

"Too much... it will cause irreversible damage to the central nervous system, and it will turn you into an idiot."

After saying that, the two caregivers stopped looking at him, as if he were just an object that had been disposed of, and turned to leave the ward. With a "bang," the heavy iron door was closed, the sound of the lock clicking shut clear and desperate, echoing in the silent room and shattering the last glimmer of hope in his heart.

In the room, only a pale, 24-hour-a-day light remained overhead, and Qin Ming was tightly bound to the hospital bed, wearing humiliating adult diapers, unable to speak or move.

silence.

A deathly silence. Even his own breathing sounded particularly jarring.

Although the detention center was filled with violence and insults, at least there was still voice, "humanity," and space for struggle and resistance. But here, there is only absolute confinement and silent torture. Unable to move, unable to speak, even the freedom to excrete is taken away, and even the right to think is threatened with being "turned idiot."

A deeper, purer fear than when he faced Zheng Qi, stemming from a complete loss of control and human dignity, instantly overwhelmed him like cold, viscous asphalt, suffocating him.

Zheng Qi's torment was pain, humiliation, and visible violence.

The "treatment" here is silence, confinement, and the process of stripping away, crushing, and ultimately destroying all your basic functions and dignity as a "human being," bit by bit, silently.

He thought he had escaped the burning hell through his meticulously planned performance.

Little did they expect that, in their foolishness, they had jumped into an even deeper, more desperate and dark abyss, frozen in ice.

Qin Ming stared wide-eyed at the lifeless, pale ceiling, realizing for the first time how utterly futile his laughable "professional training" and scheming were in this place.

He's finished.