A month.
Time, suspended in absolute silence, seemed to lose its fluid essence, as if entombed beneath a thick layer of ice.
Lan Yucheng felt like a plant moved into a darkened room, meticulously cared for day after day, merely sustaining her most basic metabolism.
Light, temperature, nutrients, even the rhythm of her breathing, all appeared to be controlled by unseen hands.
She remained silent, mostly gazing at the ceiling or through the unchanging window at a framed expanse of gray-white sky.
Thought was a luxury, a meaningless endeavor. The initial tempest of emotion had long since settled into a bottomless, icy numbness through the daily stillness.
Even the thought of self-destruction, like a pebble cast into stagnant water, failed to stir a single ripple before slowly sinking into oblivion.
Su Yiyi seemed unconcerned by her silence. She appeared punctually each day, bringing water and liquid nourishment at a constant, measured temperature.
With gentle movements, she would help Lan Yucheng swallow and clean herself. Her voice, calm and devoid of discernible emotion, would narrate trivialities—a rare bird alighting on the windowsill, or the variety of fresh flowers delivered that day.
Her care was meticulous, executed with the precision of a researcher recording data and an unsettling, deeply hidden patience.
****
Until that day, when Su Yiyi brought nothing at all. Instead, she simply unfastened the soft restraints that had long become a part of Lan Yucheng’s body.
Suddenly losing her support, Lan Yucheng’s body swayed. Her limbs, long deprived of independent movement, felt an unfamiliar weakness and pliability.
Yet, slowly, she drew upon the faint strength she had gradually accumulated and managed to sit upright. This simple action cost her considerable effort, but it also brought a strange, long-lost sensation of ‘self’.
Su Yiyi stood by the bed, observing her silently. Her gaze meticulously swept over Lan Yucheng’s face, as if watching an experimental subject’s reaction to a first intervention.
“How do you feel?” she asked, her voice as gentle as ever. “You should be able to sense some difference now.”
Lan Yucheng lowered her eyes, offering no response. There were indeed subtle changes within her body, an ineffable, vague ‘hollow’ sensation, but it was too indistinct, far less real than the frozen wasteland within her heart.
She simply existed, like another inanimate object in the room.
Su Yiyi seemed to smile, a faint, fleeting expression. She reached out, her fingertips brushing ever so lightly over Lan Yucheng’s bangs, as if dusting off an invisible speck from a treasured artifact.
“Very good,” she said. “Take your time.” Then, as on every day for the past month, she turned and left, leaving behind an even deeper silence.
Over the next week, Lan Yucheng was permitted to move slowly within the confined, enclosed space. She touched the cold texture of the walls and watched the shadows of light shift slowly across the wooden floor.
Strength gradually returned to her body, yet something far more crucial seemed to have been permanently left behind in that long month.
****
On the evening of the seventh day, Su Yiyi reappeared, holding a thick, leather-bound book and an exquisite velvet box.
She walked to the window and sat beside Lan Yucheng, placing the book on her lap but not opening it. Instead, she turned her face, gazing intently at Lan Yucheng’s profile for a long time.
Her gaze was no longer merely observational; it was a deeper, almost evaluative focus.
Then, she opened the velvet box. Inside lay nothing alarming, only two game pieces. One was a lustrous piece of mutton-fat jade, smoothly and perfectly carved; the other was a dark, profound ink jade, exuding a cold gleam.
She took both pieces out and placed them on the windowsill between them.
“Choose one,” Su Yiyi said, her voice soft but imbued with an undeniable authority.
Lan Yucheng’s gaze finally wavered, retracting from the void to settle upon the two pieces. She did not move, merely watching them. The white jade felt warm, the ink jade appeared profound.
Su Yiyi did not rush her, waiting patiently. Time ticked by, moment by moment, and the room grew so quiet that the faint sound of dust motes drifting could almost be heard.
Finally, Lan Yucheng’s fingertip twitched almost imperceptibly, as if to point at the white jade, only to curl back before making contact. She lowered her eyelids once more, resuming her previous posture.
A flicker of barely discernible understanding passed through Su Yiyi’s eyes. She extended two fingers, picking up the ink jade piece. Then, before Lan Yucheng could react, she gently pressed the cool, hard jade against her lips.
“Hold it in your mouth,” Su Yiyi instructed, her voice calm and unwavering.
Lan Yucheng’s body stiffened slightly. The cold touch of the jade pressed against her lips, an intrusive foreign object. She instinctively wanted to resist, to turn her head away, but long-standing habit and a profound bewilderment of the unknown held her rigid.
Finally, under Su Yiyi’s placid gaze, she very slowly parted her lips.
The ink jade piece was placed into her mouth. The cold, hard object, with its strange, smooth texture, instantly consumed all her senses. She dared not close her teeth, only awkwardly and helplessly holding it.
An unspeakable humiliation and a vague sense of constraint quietly crept up her spine.
Su Yiyi seemed satisfied. She picked up the heavy book, opened it, and began to read a passage of obscure text in her steady voice. Her voice was not loud, yet every word was clear, echoing in the silent room.
Lan Yucheng could not distinguish what she was reading. All her attention was stolen by the jade piece in her mouth. The cold sensation gradually warmed with her body temperature, but the hardness and the alien feeling of ‘being invaded’ grew increasingly distinct.
Saliva flowed uncontrollably, forcing her to swallow carefully, terrified of making any sound or letting the piece slip. She wanted to spit it out, but Su Yiyi gave no command. She could only maintain this stiff and ridiculous posture, like a doll arranged with a still-life prop.
Su Yiyi’s reading continued for a long time. So long that the daylight outside the window completely faded, and Lan Yucheng’s neck began to ache, her jaw trembling slightly from maintaining the same posture for so long.
The jade piece no longer felt like a mere game piece, but a symbol, a brand, a silent mockery of her current predicament.
Finally, Su Yiyi closed the book. She looked at Lan Yucheng, her gaze resting on her slightly trembling lips and taut jawline.
“Do you want to take it out?” she asked.
Lan Yucheng’s eyelashes fluttered violently, and a very faint, muffled whimper escaped her throat. It was no longer pure numbness, but a vivid agony mixed with mortification, helplessness, and intense longing.
Su Yiyi extended her hand, palm up, open before Lan Yucheng. “Then beg me,” her voice remained steady, yet like an undercurrent beneath ice. “Say you need my help.”
Tears welled in Lan Yucheng’s eyes without warning. Not from sadness, but from an overwhelming sense of powerlessness and shame that completely engulfed her. She bit down hard, only causing the jade piece in her mouth to gently clink against her teeth, producing a tiny, even more humiliating sound.
She wanted to shake her head, to refuse, but the hard object in her mouth and the physical discomfort from maintaining the posture for so long were destroying her last fragile bit of resolve.
Time stretched out once more, each second a form of torture. Her body began to tremble uncontrollably, and tears rolled down, falling onto Su Yiyi’s open palm, feeling faintly warm.
Eventually, after another violent tremor and a suffocating swallow, a broken, heavily nasal gasp escaped from between her tightly pressed lips:
“…Please…please…”
As soon as the words left her, she seemed to lose all her bones, her shoulders slumping, leaving only silent, violent sobs.
Su Yiyi gazed at her for a long time. Then, she slowly extended a finger, reaching into Lan Yucheng’s mouth to retrieve the ink jade piece, now warmed by body heat and tears. She held it in her palm, her fingertips brushing Lan Yucheng’s tear-streaked, disheveled cheek.
“Remember this feeling,” she whispered, her voice devoid of emotion, only a settled calm. “Remember who can grant you relief.”
She said nothing more, merely returning the ink jade piece to its velvet box. Then she reached out and pulled Lan Yucheng, who was exhausted from crying and barely able to sit upright, into her embrace. The hug was not warm, even somewhat stiff, yet it carried an absolute, all-controlling authority.
The night outside completely descended, swallowing the last trace of daylight. Inside the room, only stifled, intermittent sobs remained, and a deeper, heavier silence. The removed jade piece seemed to have taken away the last barrier in her mouth, and perhaps, something from her heart, while permanently placing something else within it.