Darkness.
A viscous darkness, reeking of rust and disinfectant.
Lan Yucheng’s consciousness drifted in the void, much like a feather sinking into tar. She wished she would never awaken, hoping this darkness would be her end.
Yet, the laws of biology and human intervention never yielded to her will.
****
She was roused by a gentle patting.
Opening her eyes, she saw the same room, bathed in the dim, warm glow of the lamps. Su Yiyi sat by the bedside, her face adorned with a smile of almost saintly tenderness, as if the bloody massacre of the day had been nothing more than a nightmare.
“Awake? Are you hungry?” Su Yiyi’s voice was as soft as a feather’s caress. “You haven’t eaten all day. I’ve prepared something I think you might like.”
Lan Yucheng’s eyes shifted stiffly, her gaze vacant as it fixed on the ceiling, offering no response. Hungry?
Her stomach was already filled with immense grief and terror, utterly devoid of sensation. She simply wished to die. If only death could make her forget those dimming eyes, forget the feel of a blade slicing through flesh, forget the sin of her own blood-soaked hands.
Seeing her lack of response, Su Yiyi did not grow angry. Instead, she picked up a small porcelain bowl containing a deep red, stewed meat paste, which emitted a strange, rich aroma.
She scooped up a spoonful, gently blew on it, and brought it to Lan Yucheng’s lips.
“Come on, open your mouth, just a taste. It’s very fragrant,” her tone coaxed, as if speaking to a disobedient child.
Lan Yucheng abruptly shut her eyes, her lips pressed tightly together. She even turned her head slightly away. It was a silent act of defiance, the only one she could manage at that moment.
Su Yiyi’s hand, holding the spoon, paused mid-air. The smile on her face faded slightly, replaced by a resigned sigh.
She lowered the spoon, placing the bowl on the nightstand. Then, she leaned in close to Lan Yucheng’s ear and whispered, her voice chillingly calm:
“You don’t want to eat?”
“What a pity…”
“This is… ‘Xiao Xue,’ whom I specifically prepared for you.”
“If you don’t eat her, she’ll just be thrown into the trash.”
“Can you bear that?”
Boom—!!!
Lan Yucheng’s mind felt as if struck by a sledgehammer, instantly going blank! She snapped her eyes open, her pupils shrinking to pinpricks, staring at Su Yiyi in utter disbelief!
Her stomach churned with violent spasms, and she dry-heaved. Yet, due to the muscle relaxants and her empty stomach, nothing came up but acidic bile burning her throat.
It was her! She truly… she actually…!
The person she cherished more than life itself, the one she would willingly descend into hell to embrace again… had been… had been…
Overwhelming nausea, terror, grief, and guilt surged over her like a tsunami, completely drowning her! Her entire body trembled uncontrollably, and tears streamed from her eyes like a broken dam.
Yet, she couldn’t make a sound, only ragged, gasping breaths like a broken bellows escaping her throat. She wanted to scream, to tear apart the demon before her, to utterly annihilate herself!
Watching Lan Yucheng’s complete collapse, her reaction of wishing for death, a strange glint flickered in Su Yiyi’s eyes—satisfaction, perhaps, or pity.
She gently patted Lan Yucheng’s back, helping her calm her breathing, her voice remaining terrifyingly gentle:
“It seems you truly have no appetite. It’s alright, don’t eat if you don’t want to.”
She straightened up, looking at Lan Yucheng, who lay on the bed like a broken rag doll, utterly devoid of a soul. She seemed lost in thought.
Then, she slowly began to unbutton her clothes.
“Since you don’t want to eat, let’s do something else,” her voice carried an undeniable authority. “A little exercise, perhaps you’ll have an appetite later.”
Lan Yucheng watched in horror as Su Yiyi leaned over her, cold fingertips brushing against her skin. She wanted to struggle, to resist, but the muscle relaxants left her without even the strength to curl into herself.
She was like a puppet, allowing Su Yiyi to manipulate her. Throughout the ordeal, she bit down hard on her lower lip until a thick, metallic taste of blood filled her mouth, swallowing all her whimpers and humiliation.
Her eyes stared blankly at the ceiling, her soul seemingly having drifted away from the body undergoing such slow torment.
Su Yiyi, however, seemed to relish this absolute sense of control. Her actions were slow, methodical, a ritualistic cruelty, as if savoring every drop of Lan Yucheng’s despair.
When it was all over, Su Yiyi tidied her clothes and sighed softly, looking at Lan Yucheng, whose eyes were unfocused, like a broken doll.
“Still, not eating isn’t good; your body will break down.” She seemed to be talking to herself as she retrieved a nutritional IV and more muscle relaxants from her briefcase.
The cold needle pierced her skin once more. Lan Yucheng no longer felt pain, only a bone-deep chill spreading from her heart to every limb.
She watched Su Yiyi skillfully inject the medicine, feeling her strength and consciousness forcibly stripped away and imprisoned once again.
Su Yiyi pulled the covers over her, her fingertips brushing Lan Yucheng’s cold cheek.
“Sleep well. I’ll come see you again tonight.”
The door closed softly. Silence descended upon the room once more, leaving only the gradually cooling meat paste, radiating its eerie aroma, and Lan Yucheng’s shattered soul, as if submerged in the deepest reaches of an icy sea.
Even starving to death had become a luxury. Her very right to end her own life had been utterly stripped away.
Gentle torture was far more cruel than any brutal punishment. Su Yiyi, with the most ‘considerate’ methods, had nailed her to an eternal cross of despair.