The Gaze by the Window

Time, under absolute control and in solitude, loses its original meaning. For Qin Ming, who is firmly bound to his hospital bed, the alternation of day and night merely means the endless, frozen passage of time under the pale white light above his head.

Each time a caregiver came to force-feed him roughly or change his humiliating diaper, it became the only coordinate that confirmed the passage of time.

Despair, like seaweed in the deep water, entwined his heart, tightening ever more. He began to doubt whether his meticulously planned, even smug, "escape plan" was an utterly foolish decision.

In the detention center, Zheng Qi's violence was at least vivid and responsive, while here, it was deathly silent, a cold procedure that treated people like objects. He would rather go back and face Zheng Qi's fists, at least that would prove he was still treated as a "person," even in the worst way.

This utterly inhuman situation made him feel like he was being objectified little by little, and his soul seemed to be melting away in this pale silence. His life had never been so bleak, without a single glimmer of light.

Just when he thought he was about to completely break down, or be destroyed by the tranquilizer that could "turn him into an idiot" at any moment, a turning point appeared in a way he never expected.

A few days later—or perhaps just a few days, as he had lost his accurate sense of time—the heavy iron door opened again. Two caregivers silently untied his restraints, lifted him up, and dragged him out of the single ward, which resembled a metal coffin.

His heart pounded at the slightest glimmer of hope. Was he being moved to a regular ward? Was this inhuman confinement finally ending?

He was led to the other end of the corridor on the same floor and into another ward. This ward was slightly larger, with two beds fixed to the floor side by side. Although the walls were still covered with soft material and the iron door was still heavy, at least he was no longer alone here.

Moreover, he was delighted to find that although his limbs were still secured to the bed frame with leather straps, the restraints seemed to be slightly looser than before, allowing him to at least move his wrists and ankles slightly. This insignificant "freedom" was a great blessing to him.

What comforted him even more was his roommate.

He was a rather refined-looking young man, wearing the same blue and white striped hospital gown as Qin Ming, lying quietly on the bed at the back. He had slightly messy but not dirty long black hair, and a handsome face, even with a touch of androgynous beauty. What warmed Qin Ming's heart the most was the other man's eyes, gentle and calm, without the mania, blankness or aggression commonly seen in other mental Patient.

"Hello," the long-haired youth greeted him as he entered, his voice gentle and pleasant, carrying a strangely soothing quality. "New here?"

"Yes... yes." Qin Ming answered hastily, his voice dry and hoarse from not having a normal conversation in a long time. He greedily savored this long-lost, normal human interaction, even though the other person was a mental Patient.

"My name is Chen Meijiao," the young woman said with a smile.

Qin Ming was taken aback. This name... sounded quite feminine. But he quickly suppressed his strange feeling. In a place like this, what did a strange name matter? He eagerly gave his name, as if to reaffirm his identity.

In the time that followed, Qin Ming seemed to want to pour out all the silence and repression he had accumulated. He kept talking to Chen Meijiao, incoherently recounting his grievances, complaining about the caregiver's roughness, and describing the inhumane treatment he received there. He even subtly mentioned that he had been "wronged" and originally had a bright future ahead of him.

Chen Meijiao listened quietly, her face always bearing that gentle, almost compassionate smile. She would occasionally nod, offering a word or two of comfort, such as, "It really isn't easy here," "Just bear with it, it will pass," or "You don't seem like a bad person." Her attitude was so friendly, her words so considerate; on this desolate island of the mental hospital, she was like a faint but warm lamp, dispelling the vast gloom in Qin Ming's heart.

Qin Ming felt as if he had struggled for a long time in the icy seawater before finally grabbing onto a piece of driftwood. His roommate, Chen Meijiao, was a ray of light that suddenly appeared in his gloomy life. He even began to think that perhaps this place wasn't as terrible as he had imagined, and that as long as he had a partner with whom he could communicate normally, he could get through the days.

As night deepened, the lights in the ward were turned off, leaving only the faint glow of the corridor light streaming through the observation window above the door. Overwhelmed by the exhaustion from his long conversation and the relaxation he had just endured, Qin Ming finally drifted off to sleep in an awkward position, restrained by the straps.

He was suddenly awakened by a slight but very unusual noise after an unknown amount of time.

It was a... subtle sound of metal rubbing together, and the rustling of fabric.

His heart tightened, and he subconsciously tried to sit up, but he was firmly restrained by the straps and could only twist his body in vain. The iron bed frame beneath him made a piercing creaking sound.

He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding. Following the direction of the sound, he turned his head in terror to look at Chen Meijiao's bed beside him—

The bed was empty!

The restraints were untied and piled haphazardly on the bed; the person who should have been lying there was nowhere to be seen!

A chill instantly shot from the soles of my feet to the top of my head! Where did he go? How did he get off the restraints?

Qin Ming stared wide-eyed, desperately looking around in the dim light.

Then, his gaze settled on the only window in the ward, which was welded shut with iron bars.

The moonlight, cold and frosty, filtered through the gaps in the railings, casting dappled shadows on the softly wrapped walls, like the bars of a cage.

In that interplay of light and shadow, a figure stood quietly.

It's Chen Meijiao.

He stood with his back to Qin Ming, facing the window, motionless, like a silent statue. His long black hair gleamed with a dark luster under the moonlight.

It seemed they had heard the commotion Qin Ming had made, or perhaps they had sensed the terrified gaze upon them.

Chen Meijiao's head began to turn extremely slowly, inch by inch.

The moonlight outlined the delicate contours of his profile, and then gradually illuminated his face.

Qin Ming's breathing suddenly stopped, and the blood in his body seemed to freeze at that moment.

He saw it.

Under the moonlight, Chen Meijiao's eyes no longer held the gentle and calm gaze of the daytime.

Those were a pair of eyes... pitch black, unfathomable, now gleaming with a cold, inhuman light. There was no human emotion in those eyes, only a pure, bone-chilling... scrutiny.

It's as if they're examining an object, an imperfect object that needs to be "corrected".

A silent fear, like an icy tide, instantly overwhelmed all of Qin Ming's senses.