Hell on Speakerphone
Lin Feng's words, "Let's make sure Little Brother Hui is still safe," were like a fine needle, precisely piercing the swollen mass of fear, suspicion, and anger in the living room.
Yes, no matter how much we argue, no matter if we get paid or how much, the most fundamental premise is that the person is still alive.
Aunt Wang Guifang abruptly raised her head, a flicker of urgent realization crossing her tear-blurred vision. Like a drowning person grasping at a last straw, she forgot all about crying and frantically groped for her old cell phone with a cracked screen from the sofa cushions. Her fingers trembled from tension and her previous sobs, her nails scraping against the shattered glass with a soft "scratching" sound. She swiped the screen, found the call log, and saw an unmarked number from overseas (starting with +855) at the top, like an ugly scar.
Everyone held their breath. Auntie San, who had been arguing just moments before, fell silent, her eyes fixed on the phone with a complicated expression. Uncle San squatted back down in the corner, his head bowed even lower. Uncle Da frowned, his body leaning slightly forward. The other relatives, some standing and some sitting, all had their eyes glued to the small screen. The only sounds in the living room were Auntie Er's heavy, tense breathing and the faint beeping of the phone's buttons.
My aunt's husband also came over, squatted down next to his wife, his eyes fixed on the number, his facial muscles taut.
Wang Guifang took several deep breaths, as if summoning all her courage, before pressing the dial button with a trembling thumb and immediately turning on speakerphone.
"Beep--Beep--"
The monotonous waiting tone amplified infinitely in the silent living room, each sound striking the hearts of everyone present. Auntie's hands trembled violently, almost dropping her phone. Uncle reached out and gripped her wrist tightly; his rough palm provided a sense of steadiness, but his own hand was equally cold and slippery.
Time became viscous and slow.
"Hello?"
Just as the dial tone was about to wear off, the call was suddenly answered. A rough male voice with a heavy accent came through, accompanied by unusually noisy background noise—the clattering of mahjong tiles, a man's gruff shouts, sporadic laughter, and indistinct music. Clearly, the other party was in a place resembling a card room or entertainment venue, where the atmosphere was relaxed and even somewhat boisterous.
The background noise contrasted sharply with the despairing and somber atmosphere in my aunt's living room.
"Who is it?" the man said impatiently, his voice loud enough to drown out the background noise. "Spit it out! I'm busy!"
"It's... it's me..." Upon hearing that voice, Wang Guifang's tears welled up uncontrollably again, her voice thick with sobs and a humble plea, "I... I'm Sun Penghui's mother... Please... please let me hear my son's voice... I just want to hear... to hear how he is... please..."
She spoke incoherently, pleading repeatedly, until finally only sobs remained.
"What are you listening to!" The man's impatience escalated instantly into a shout, and the background noise seemed to quiet down a bit, perhaps because he covered the microphone or moved to a quieter spot. "Stop your fucking nonsense! Where's the money? Five hundred thousand! Has it been transferred to your account?! Let me tell you, I don't have time to waste with you! If the money isn't there, you can just wait to collect your corpse! I'll chop you into pieces and send it back to you, you believe me?!"
"Chop it into pieces"... These words, like icy knives, pierced the ears of everyone present through the speakerphone.
"Ah--!" Wang Guifang let out a short, almost collapsing scream, her phone slipping from her hand and falling onto the sofa. She felt as if her bones had been removed, collapsing limply, her hands tightly covering her face, suppressed, broken sobs escaping between her fingers, tears streaming down her face, instantly soaking her sleeves and knees. As a mother, this blunt and cruel threat shattered the last vestige of her fragile sanity.
"Guifang!" Auntie San and Zhang Fen, who were standing nearby, quickly helped her up.
My aunt's husband's eyes instantly turned bloodshot, frighteningly red. He grabbed his phone, which had fallen on the sofa, his arm veins bulging, and spoke into the microphone, his voice hoarse and distorted from extreme anger and struggle to control himself:
"Don't touch my son! Money... we'll give you the money! We agree to give you the money!"
He practically roared, his chest heaving. "We just want... we just want to hear Xiaohui's voice! Just one sentence! To hear that he's still alive! We'll send the money! Right now! Is that okay?!"
There was a two-second silence on the other end of the phone. The background noise seemed to become clearer; someone could be heard shouting something in dialect, followed by the man's mumbled response.
Then another voice rang out, a little further from the microphone. The voice was younger, with a nonchalant, even slightly mocking laugh, clearly speaking into the speakerphone:
"Brother Hu, who's this? He's so noisy."
The man known as "Brother Hu," the one who answered the phone first, replied nonchalantly and in a voice loud enough for the other end to hear clearly, "Who else could it be? Xiaohui Hui's family, whining and insisting on hearing my voice."
"Oh-- Xiaohui's family." The younger voice drawled, the smile widening, but devoid of warmth, it held only a dismissive contempt, as if looking at ants. "Oh, don't worry--"
He paused deliberately, as if enjoying the breathless fear on the other side.
"Xiaohui is doing great! Yesterday... no, the night before last, I saw him over at the kennel, fighting with those big wolfhounds for food! Hey, he was having such a good time! He was even faster than the dogs!"
The kennel... fighting with the dogs for food...
The imagery created by these words was intensely insulting and inhumanly cruel, sending a chill down the spines of everyone in the living room who heard it, regardless of gender, and a wave of nausea and rage washing over them.
This is no longer a simple kidnapping and extortion; it is the most thorough trampling and ravaging of human dignity!
Immediately afterwards, a rustling sound came from the receiver, as if the phone had been picked up and brought closer. Brother Hu's voice took over again, this time with undisguised malice and threat:
"Did you hear that? Your son is really something! I still have to feed him! So, stop talking nonsense! Hurry up and send the money!"
His voice suddenly rose, filled with hostility:
"If you keep dawdling and playing tricks, the price won't be the same in a couple of days! Just the dog food alone is costing me so much every day! Huh?!"
"Fuck your mother!!!"
My aunt's husband's pent-up anger, fear, and humiliation erupted like a volcano at this moment! He could no longer control himself, cursing loudly into his phone, spittle flying onto the screen, his entire face contorted with extreme rage, and the veins on his neck bulging like earthworms:
"You beasts! You bunch of beasts! Bastards! You deserve to die a horrible death! Give me back my son! Give him back!!!"
His hoarse, piercing roar echoed through the living room, making everyone's eardrums ring. Several women were so frightened that they forgot to cry.
The person on the other end of the phone was clearly taken aback by the sudden outburst and remained silent for a moment.
Immediately, Brother Hu's icy, emotionless voice rang out, not loud, but even more chilling than his previous roar:
"Insulting me?"
He chuckled softly, a laugh that sent chills down your spine.
"Fine. You've got guts."
"Beep--Beep--Beep--"
A busy signal sounded.
The call was disconnected.
My aunt's husband was still yelling into his phone, his chest heaving, breathing heavily. The anger on his face gradually faded, replaced by a deeper, almost deathly despair and... fear.
The living room was deathly silent.
Only Wang Guifang's suppressed sobs, like those of a dying animal, continued to echo intermittently.
That hands-free call was like a briefly opened gate to hell, allowing all the relatives to truly "hear" the coldness, cruelty, and lawlessness of that distant land. The kidnappers' arrogance, mockery, and the silent threat conveyed by their final words, "Fine. You've got guts," were more chilling than any explicit intimidation.
Money seems to be the only faint hope. But what kind of abyss lies on the other side of that hope?
Everyone froze, completely stunned by the harsh reality brought about by the phone call. The air felt heavy, as if it had a tangible weight pressing down on everyone's hearts, making it hard to breathe.