A Sliver of Hope
Chen Fugui was woken up by a bucket of cold water.
The icy liquid streamed down his hair and cheeks, seeping into his collar, sending a shiver through him. He jolted awake. His vision gradually cleared, and he found himself still in that elegant study, still with his hands tied behind his back, still kneeling before that expensive rosewood tea table.
But unlike before, the hand pierced by the dagger had been simply bandaged, wrapped in thick gauze, revealing traces of bright red blood. The excruciating pain was still there, washing over his nerves like waves, but it was much better than the agonizing agony he had just experienced. At least, he could barely think.
He looked up and saw Lin Feng still sitting behind the tea table, relaxed, holding a cup of tea that had long since gone cold, but not drinking it. He was just playing with it in his hand, looking at him calmly, as if admiring an interesting collectible.
At this moment, Chen Fugui was filled with nothing but endless fear and humble pleading. He knew that this seemingly gentle and harmless young man held his life and death in his hands. He dared not harbor any more illusions, dared not offer any more explanations, and only wanted to live.
"Mr. Lin... Mr. Lin, I was wrong... I was really wrong..." His voice was hoarse and choked with sobs as he slammed his forehead heavily against the cold floor. "Please... please spare me... I'm just a worthless life... please, have mercy on me and let me go..."
He banged his head so hard that his forehead quickly turned red and even bled.
Lin Feng looked at his humble, pleading appearance, his face showing no change in expression—neither pity nor disgust, only an almost indifferent calm. He put down his teacup and slowly spoke:
"Mr. Chen, when you reported Feng Ya, did you ever think about what would happen to her?"
Chen Fugui's kowtowing motion froze. He dared not answer.
"ICE fine, restaurant closed down, mental breakdown, almost being humiliated by those two black guys..." Lin Feng's voice was soft, as if stating a fact unrelated to himself. "What did she do wrong? She just took pity on you, gave you a job, gave you a place to shelter from the wind and rain. And you? How did you repay her?"
"I... I was confused for a moment... I was bewitched..." Chen Fugui's voice grew softer and softer.
"A moment of confusion?" Lin Feng repeated the phrase, a faint, mocking smile playing on his lips. "A good 'moment of confusion.' Those four words are so convenient. Murder and arson can be attributed to a moment of confusion, betrayal and treachery can also be attributed to a moment of confusion. Does saying 'a moment of confusion' mean everything can be wiped clean?"
Chen Fugui was speechless, only kowtowing repeatedly, the blood on his forehead spreading a small dark red patch on the floor.
Lin Feng stopped looking at him, stood up, walked to the window, turned his back to Chen Fugui, looked at the San Francisco skyline outside the window, and remained silent for a moment.
Then, he turned around, the gentle expression on his face gone, replaced by a calmer, more unquestionable look.
"Mr. Chen, I don't like to push things to the extreme," he said slowly. "Killing someone is just a matter of a head falling to the ground; it's meaningless. I prefer to leave people a way out."
Chen Fugui suddenly raised his head, a final glimmer of hope flashing in his eyes! A glimmer of hope! There was still a way to survive!
"I have a suggestion." Lin Feng walked back to the tea table, but instead of sitting down, he looked down at Chen Fugui kneeling on the ground. "If you accept, you have a chance to live. If you don't accept..."
He didn't finish his sentence, but the meaning was already clear.
"I accept! I accept! Mr. Lin, I'll accept whatever you say!" Chen Fugui shouted hurriedly, afraid that Lin Feng would change his mind.
Lin Feng nodded and gestured to one of the men in black beside him. The man in black turned and left the study. A moment later, he and two other men carried in something—
It was a huge wooden box made of thick pine planks. The box was about 1.5 meters long, 1 meter wide, and 1 meter high, big enough for an adult to curl up inside. The planks were thick, and the edges were reinforced with large iron nails, making it look exceptionally sturdy. The lid was not completely sealed; it was open, revealing the dark, gaping space inside.
Chen Fugui looked at the wooden box, and a sense of foreboding washed over him. The light of hope on his face quickly faded, replaced by fear once more.
"Mr. Lin. Lin... this is..."
Lin Feng did not answer him, but simply gestured for the man in black to carry the wooden box to the open space in the center of the study. Then, he walked to the wooden box, reached out and knocked on the thick wooden board, producing a dull "thump-thump" sound.
"This box was specially prepared for you, Mr. Chen," Lin Feng said calmly. "In a moment, they will put you in this box and then nail the lid shut."
Chen Fugui's face turned deathly pale! Put him in a box?! Nail him to death?! Were they going to bury him alive?!
"No! No! Mr. Lin! Spare me! Spare me!" He struggled desperately, trying to stand up and escape, but was held down firmly by two men in black, unable to move.
Lin Feng ignored his wails and continued, "Then, they will transport this box to a hillside."
He paused, looking into Chen Fugui's eyes, which were almost bulging with fear, and said, word by word:
"Roll down the hillside."
Chen Fugui's mind went blank.
Roll him down? Put him in a wooden crate and roll him down the hillside?!
"I'll make them roll this box ten times." Lin Feng's voice remained calm, as if discussing the rules of a game. "If you're still alive after ten times—then your grudge with Feng Ya will be wiped clean. I'll let you go and give you some money, enough for you to go back to China, or somewhere else, and start a new life."
He leaned down slightly, looking at Chen Fugui's face, contorted with fear, and his tone became somewhat meaningful:
"Mr. Chen, what do you think? Isn't it fair?"
Fairness? This is what you call fair?! Chen Fugui screamed inwardly, but dared not utter a single word of dissent. He knew he had no right to bargain. Acceptance offered a sliver of hope; rejection meant certain death.
He stared at the dark wooden box as if he were looking at a coffin. His body trembled violently with fear, and his teeth chattered.
"Mr. Lin... he... he'll die..." His voice was hoarse, filled with desperate sobs.
"Maybe," Lin Feng admitted frankly, his tone devoid of any comforting intent, "But maybe not. It depends on your luck, and also on... whether your life is tough enough."
He straightened up and nodded to the man in black beside him.
"Go."
Two men in black immediately stepped forward and dragged Chen Fugui, who was limp and struggling on the ground, toward the wooden box like a dead dog.
"No! No! Mr. Lin! Spare me! I'll never do it again! Please! Spare me!" Chen Fugui roared desperately, kicking his legs wildly, his fingernails scraping the floor with a harsh sound, leaving several white marks. But it was all in vain.
He was forced into that narrow, dark wooden crate that smelled of fresh wood and rust. His body was forced to curl up, his knees pressed against his chest, in an extremely uncomfortable position. He desperately pounded on the sides of the crate, making dull thuds.
"Mr. Lin! Mr. Lin! Let me go! I'll do anything for you! Please! I don't want to die!"
Lin Feng walked to the wooden box, looked down, and saw Chen Fugui's face inside, which was covered in tears and filled with despair.
"Mr. Chen." His voice was soft and calm. "Remember, I don't like to push things to the extreme. Ten times. If you survive, that's your luck. If you don't..."
He paused, his tone as flat as if he were stating a trivial truth:
That's your good fortune.
After he finished speaking, he nodded to the man in black beside him.
The man in black understood, picked up several long iron nails and a heavy Iron Hammer, and walked to the wooden box.
No! No--!!
Chen Fugui's desperate screams were completely drowned out by the "bang bang bang" of nails being hammered in.
The lid of the box was completely sealed shut. Inside the wooden box, there was absolute darkness and deathly silence.
Only Chen Fugui's own heavy, fearful, and desperate breathing echoed in the cramped space.
Several men in black stepped forward and together lifted the heavy wooden crate.
Lin Feng stood by the window, his back to them, looking at the view of San Francisco outside. He picked up the cup of tea, which had gone completely cold, and took a small sip.
"Find a steep slope." His voice was calm, devoid of any emotion. "Don't end it too quickly."
"Yes, boss."
The men in black carried wooden crates out in single file.
Silence returned to the study.
Only a faint smell of blood and the fresh scent of sawdust remained in the air.