A Waking Nightmare Under the Surgical Lights

Consciousness seemed to rise slowly from the bottom of the deep sea.

The first thing Wei Guangyuan sensed was light.

It wasn't natural light, nor artificial light, but some kind of... blinding, cold, ubiquitous white light. The light burned his optic nerves through his thin eyelids. He wanted to close his eyes, to shut out this uncomfortable light—but his eyelids wouldn't obey him.

They trembled slightly, half-open, letting the white light pierce their pupils like needles.

His eyes were incredibly sore, as if grit was rubbing inside. He wanted to cry, to use tears to relieve the burning sensation—but even his tear ducts betrayed him. His eye sockets were dry, and his eyeballs rolled futilely in their sockets, unable to focus on anything.

All I could see was a shimmering, blinding white, like staring directly at the midday sun, but without its warmth, only the cold, lifeless, pale white unique to surgical lights.

Then, there's the sound.

At first, there was only a chaotic buzzing. The buzzing came from deep within his ear canal, low and continuous, like a swarm of bees building a nest in his skull. In this buzzing, other sounds could be faintly heard—the soft clanging of metal, the regular ticking of instruments, and... human voices.

Human voices. More than one.

The sounds seemed to come through a thick layer of water, indistinct and fragmented. He tried hard to hear them clearly, to discern what they were saying—but the annoying buzzing always drowned out everything. He could only catch some broken syllables, some vague inflections.

Time has lost its meaning.

In this chaotic interplay of white light and buzzing, Wei Guangyuan couldn't tell how much time had passed. A minute? An hour? A day? His consciousness came and went, like a faulty light bulb, sometimes bright, sometimes sinking into deeper darkness. There were a few moments when he almost completely sank into that darkness—but the blinding white light would always pull him back to this hellish clarity at the last moment.

finally.

The buzzing sound began to subside.

It was as if someone was slowly turning down the volume of the swarm of bees in my ears. The annoying, all-encompassing low-frequency noise gradually faded away, and the sounds of the real world began to emerge clearly, like rocks revealed after the tide receded.

He heard it.

First, the instruments. A rhythmic, gentle "beep-beep" sound likely indicates a cardiac monitor. There's also a hissing sound of gas flowing, possibly from a ventilator or anesthesia machine. And a slight clinking sound when metal instruments are picked up and put down.

Then, there were human voices.

A voice was very close, right beside him, perhaps even... on the operating table next to him. The voice spoke, in an extremely weak, trembling, desperate tone, repeating over and over:

"Kill me..."

"Kill me..."

"Please... kill me..."

"Let me die... let me die..."

The voice was choked with sobs, filled with collapse, and a desperate plea to give up. Every word seemed to be squeezed from the depths of the soul, brimming with unspeakable pain and fear.

Wei Guangyuan's brain felt like a machine that had been rusty for years, its gears jammed and struggling to function. That voice... it sounded familiar. He must know this person. Who was it? Who was wailing like that?

His thoughts crawled slowly, trying to piece together the owner of the voice from fragments of memory. Then, a scene flashed by—an office, red wine, a fawning smile, a cautious suggestion...

Qian... Deputy Director Qian? Qian Zhiming?

Yes. That's the voice. The one that always followed him around, handling all sorts of "troublesome matters" for him, the smooth and worldly-wise yet timid Deputy Director Qian.

Why is Qian Zhiming here? And why is he making that sound?

The floodgates of memory were pried open, and more images rushed in.

A black sedan, a road of escape, a vehicle that suddenly broke down, the driver A Cheng, getting out... and then that tall figure crashing into the darkness, the sharp pain and tingling sensation in his neck, the darkness...

He was caught.

His subsequent memories were even more fragmented and painful. He remembered being locked in a windowless room and being "interrogated" in various ways. It wasn't traditional torture, but more precise and cruel torment: electric shocks, drugs, sleep deprivation, psychological pressure... What they wanted wasn't a confession, but his accounts, passwords, keys, and contacts hidden all over the world.

At first, he tried to resist, attempting to cope with silence or lies. But his adversaries were clearly experienced; they weren't in a hurry for results, but rather methodically repeated the process over and over again. Day and night, without end. His will gradually crumbled under that systematic torture. Finally, when they plunged a syringe into his arm and told him it would be the "last time," he broke down. He blurted out everything they wanted to know, like spilling beans, without reservation.

He only wanted a quick and painless end.

Then, the other party did indeed give him a "quick" treatment. Another injection. The cold liquid was pushed into his vein, and his consciousness quickly sank into darkness.

When I woke up again... I was here.

What place is this?

A surge of intense fear gripped Wei Guangyuan's heart. He tried to turn his neck, to look around, to confirm his situation—but his body remained unresponsive. No, not unresponsive, but rather... unresponsive.

He couldn't feel his limbs, nor the contraction of his muscles. He tried to move a finger—no response. He couldn't even control his eyeballs; he could only stare intently at the blinding white light above him.

The blinding white light made him dizzy and unable to concentrate. Yet, strangely enough, his mind was perfectly clear. He could feel the cold, hard surface beneath him (was it an operating table?), he could feel his wrists and ankles being tightly bound by something (was it a belt?), he could smell the strong odor of disinfectant in the air, and... a faint, sweet, metallic smell of rust.

At that moment, another voice rang out.

The voice was not far from him, its tone steady, even carrying a hint of... pleasure?

"Hey, Deputy Director Qian, you should cherish your life."

The owner of the voice was clearly speaking to the wailing Qian Zhiming.

"Look, isn't this an amazing experience?" the voice continued, as if giving an interesting biology lesson. "Many people never have the chance to see their own ribs, their own kidneys, their own liver in their entire lives... It's a unique perspective, a close-up observation of the essence of life."

Wei Guangyuan's stomach clenched, though he couldn't control his abdominal muscles at all. A chilling coldness spread from his spine, instantly engulfing his entire body.

What kind of Madman is talking?

"Come on, stop looking so gloomy," the calm voice continued, its tone as relaxed as if suggesting a game. "Next up is the next experience. This time, you'll experience..."

The voice paused deliberately here, as if keeping the audience in suspense.

Then, in an almost cheerful tone, he announced:

"He bites himself."

Biting yourself?

These five words were like five icicles, piercing Wei Guangyuan's brain. What did they mean? What did "biting yourself" mean? How could that be physiologically possible? Unless... unless...

An extremely terrifying and disgusting image uncontrollably formed in his mind. He dared not think about it in detail, but the image was already deeply imprinted in his consciousness.

What kind of demon is this? Who is this person speaking? What does he want to do to Qian Zhiming? And what does he want to do to himself?

The extreme fear almost made Wei Guangyuan scream—but he couldn't even control his vocal cords. He could only lie there, like a still-conscious corpse, passively accepting everything.

Just then...

He felt a warm breath gently brushing against his ear.

Very close. Extremely close.

That steady, pleasant voice rang in his ears, not loud, but so clear it seemed to echo directly inside his skull:

"Oh, President Wei, you're awake?"

"Don't rush."

"Your turn will be here soon."