The Nature of Power

Early morning. Beyond the cold iron bars, the sky was an oppressive gray-blue. Beneath the square of sky carved out by the high walls, a few sparrows fluttered past and soon vanished from sight.

Lin Feng stood quietly by the barred window of cell 107, his gaze seemingly following the sparrows, yet also seeming to pass through the high walls and settle somewhere farther away, somewhere more unknowable. His profile was somewhat blurred in the faint morning light, but his eyes were exceptionally clear, as tranquil as a deep pool.

Scar was tidying the cell on tiptoe, doing his best not to make any noise that would disturb "Brother Feng's" "quiet contemplation." Lately, he had increasingly found this man unfathomable. Sometimes a single glance from him was enough to make Scar's skin crawl.

Suddenly, Lin Feng spoke. His voice was not loud, yet it was like a pebble cast onto a deathly still surface of water, carrying an icy, penetrating force:

"Scar, do you know why romantic relationships between teachers and students, superiors and subordinates, or therapists and patients are immoral?"

Scar froze, his hand stopping in midair as he wiped the floor. He looked up blankly at Lin Feng's back, his mind racing, unable to understand where this out-of-the-blue question had come from. Was it a test? Or an offhand observation?

"Huh? Brother Feng... Well... Maybe it's because... they set a bad example?" Scar ventured, racking his brains to show a little "awareness."

Lin Feng did not turn around or comment on his answer. He simply went on speaking, his voice matter-of-fact, yet carrying an insight that made one's heart tremble:

"It's not because they set a bad example." He paused, as if weighing his words. "It's because, in this kind of relationship, one party is in an absolutely vulnerable position, while the other can easily control his fate, his emotions, even his everything."

"So," he said, turning his head slightly and glancing at Scar from the corner of his eye. That look made Scar instinctively hold his breath. "Whatever the person in control wants to do-show kindness, offer care, oppress, or even destroy-they can easily accomplish it. The so-called moral taboo is nothing more than a coat thrown over this naked inequality of power, barely enough to cover its shame."

The cell was terrifyingly quiet, with only the faint sound of the wake-up whistle coming from outside the window. Scar only half understood, but he felt a chill crawl up his spine. He had a vague sense that Brother Feng was not talking about relationships between men and women, but about something else, a more universal and more brutal rule.

Meanwhile, outside the deputy supervisor's office.

Wang Lei straightened the slightly oversized police uniform he wore and took a deep breath, trying hard to suppress his habitual meekness and muster a trace of composure. He raised his hand and knocked on the door that represented the third-highest position in the detention center.

"Come in." A somewhat tired and irritated voice came from inside.

Wang Lei pushed the door open and entered. The office was small and simply furnished. Zhao Jianguo was bent over a pile of documents, his brow tightly furrowed as his fountain pen wrote something rapidly. He did not even look up.

"Supervisor Zhao," Wang Lei said softly. He carefully closed the door and came to a stop in front of the desk, his hands pressed nervously against the seams of his trousers.

Only then did Zhao Jianguo raise his eyes and glance at him, seeming a little surprised to see this inconspicuous young guard. He immediately lowered his head again, his tone impatient. "Wang Lei? What is it? Make it quick, I'm busy."

"Supervisor, it's... it's a bit of a personal matter." Wang Lei swallowed, lowering his voice further. "A friend's child recently... ended up here at our detention center. The young man has never known hardship, and his family is worried. They asked me to... see if his living conditions could be made a little better."

Zhao Jianguo did not stop writing. He gave a grunt. "That's all? Can't you just have a word with Old Liu in logistics yourself? Tell them not to let their hands shake so badly when they serve his food. A little consideration within the rules is no problem."

"Supervisor, I... that's not what I mean." Wang Lei edged half a step forward and leaned in slightly. "I mean... a little better than the conditions ordinary inmates get."

The pen in Zhao Jianguo's hand stopped.

He slowly raised his head, his gaze appraising as he looked Wang Lei up and down. This man, who usually hardly dared breathe, was behaving somewhat unusually now. Zhao Jianguo stared at him for several seconds before speaking in a flat tone. "What do you mean?"

Wang Lei seemed to flinch under his gaze and instinctively wanted to shrink back, but ultimately held himself in check. He forced a fawning smile onto his face, with a hint of equally forced composure. As he spoke, he pulled a not particularly thick envelope from his trouser pocket with a slightly trembling hand, laid it gently on the smooth desk, and nudged it toward Zhao Jianguo.

"No... nothing in particular. Just a small token. I hope you can... show the young man a little consideration and make things easier for him."

Zhao Jianguo glanced at the envelope, and his expression darkened instantly. Without the slightest hesitation, he shoved it roughly back with the back of his hand. "Wang Lei, I'll pretend I didn't see this. Try these underhanded tricks again, and don't blame me for handing it straight over to the political office!"

His voice was not loud, but it carried unquestionable authority and warning.

The muscles in Wang Lei's face twitched, but his fawning smile stubbornly remained in place. Instead of taking the envelope back, he reached out and slowly pushed it over again, lowering his voice until it was almost a whisper:

"Supervisor, look... didn't you... help Little Li before? With his transfer to an easier post..."

Zhao Jianguo, just about to lose his temper, abruptly froze!

His expression hardened in an instant. Then he looked at Wang Lei again, his gaze extremely grave and even tinged with shock and suspicion, as though truly seeing the man before him for the first time. Little Li was his nephew. He had handled the transfer with extreme secrecy, confident that no one could get anything on him. Where had this meek, submissive Wang Lei learned about it?! He absolutely did not believe his nephew had told anyone!

"Are you threatening me?" The words came through Zhao Jianguo's clenched teeth, icy cold and charged with the anger of a man who had been affronted.

In the cell, Lin Feng was still looking out the window, simultaneously receiving a real-time stream of information from Wang Lei's perspective in his mind. The corner of his mouth seemed to move ever so slightly, as though he were sneering, or as though he had expected this all along.

Facing Zhao Jianguo's fury, Wang Lei's smile actually grew a little more natural. It was no longer that forced, fawning smile, but an unsettling calm born of... holding a trump card. He waved his hands repeatedly, though there was no panic in his voice. "A misunderstanding, a misunderstanding! Supervisor Zhao, how would I dare threaten you? Even if you gave me ten times the courage, I wouldn't dare!"

Then he changed tack. His voice remained low and measured, but it was like the flick of a viper's tongue. "But... I just happened to hear that if the leaders in the political office found out you'd also helped that 'friend' of yours on the outside... um... get medical parole... it might have just a little... negative effect on your career, wouldn't it?"

"Boom-!"

Zhao Jianguo felt as though his head had been struck by a heavy hammer! Blood rushed to his head. His face turned deathly pale in an instant, then flushed crimson, changing color several times!

Keeping a mistress! Medical parole!

These were his most deeply buried secrets! His fatal weaknesses, the ones he absolutely could not let anyone know about! This Wang Lei! How could he?! How could he possibly know?!

Overwhelming shock and fear swallowed his anger in an instant. He stared fixedly at Wang Lei, as though trying to see the source of it all in his face. The air in the office froze, leaving only the sound of their heavy breathing.

After several seconds of deathly silence, all the intense emotions on Zhao Jianguo's face receded like the tide, and he suddenly became unusually calm. He even pulled at the corners of his mouth, producing an extremely stiff, unnatural smile.

He reached out, no longer to push the envelope away, but to pick it up from the desk. Without even looking at it, he casually tossed it into a nearby drawer with a soft clunk. Then he smiled, his tone turning exceptionally amiable, as though the tension of drawn swords and strung bows had never existed:

"Heh heh... Speaking of which, young people who've just come in aren't used to the place. We should give them more help and show a little humanitarian concern. What's your friend's child's name? Which cell is he in?"