Bai Shi was staring at the boy—the one with the fierce eyes.
He looked to be about the same age as Bai Shi, tall with long legs and broad shoulders. His head was shaved close, leaving a faint bluish shadow of stubble on his scalp. Despite his large frame, his movements were meticulous, almost shrinking into himself. He walked with small strides and possessed a cowering, shrunken quality. He rarely looked at anyone and never spoke to a soul in this place. On the rare occasions he did open his mouth, his voice was as thin as a mosquito’s buzz, barely more than a breath. Yet, despite this overall air of caution, he had an unexpectedly volatile temper. Once, when someone accidentally bumped into him, he became a different person entirely. In an instant, he shed his submissive facade; the veins in his arms bulged as he hoisted the offender off the ground and delivered a punch that left the man’s mouth a bloody mess. The victim had slumped there, drooling and spitting out several teeth. Naturally, the boy was severely punished by the caretakers. He wasn't seen for two days, and when he finally reappeared, he seemed to shrink even from the sunlight.
He had offended quite a few people.
As Bai Shi watched him, a gap-toothed bald man glanced around to ensure no caretakers were nearby before approaching the boy. He spat a glob of phlegm directly into the boy’s bowl of potato mash.
The boy’s head snapped up. The bald man scrambled back with a yelp, prompting a caretaker to blow a whistle. The boy seemed terrified of the sound; he flinched at the whistle and quickly lowered his head again.
The caretaker walked over, followed by the bald man. They looked down at the boy. "Is there a problem?" the caretaker asked.
The boy shook his head. The caretaker turned and walked away, standing off to the side to resume patrolling the hall.
The bald man let out a couple of snickers and spat into the food again. A long string of saliva trailed from his mouth, landing on the charred mashed potatoes. Then, the bald man wiped his mouth and straightened up.
Both the boy and the bald man looked toward the caretaker. The caretaker glanced their way, clearly seeing what had happened, but said nothing. She simply maintained her pace, circling around them toward the next area.
The boy lowered his head once more. The bald man grinned, rubbed his own head, and shuffled away.
With his face downcast, his expression was hidden, but the boy’s hand was trembling. He gripped his spoon tightly, dragging it through the tray. Grains of rice were flicked out, scattering across the table. His movements grew faster and faster, as if he were on the verge of losing control.
Suddenly, someone sat down beside him.
The boy’s hand faltered.
"What's your name?" Bai Shi asked, focusing on his own meal while casting a sidelong glance at him.
The boy didn't speak. He picked up his tray, intending to stand.
Bai Shi reached out and grabbed his wrist. "Sit down."
A caretaker noticed the movement, uncrossed her arms from behind her back, and began walking toward them. The boy sat back down, letting go of the tray. Bai Shi’s grip left a red mark on his wrist.
Both lowered their heads to eat. The boy picked at the parts of his food that hadn't been spat on. Neither spoke. The caretaker took a few steps toward them, then turned away.
Bai Shi scooped some of the food from his own tray onto the boy’s. "My name is Bai Shi."
The boy remained silent. He stared at the extra food, hesitated, but didn't touch it.
"What's your name?"
No response.
Bai Shi was about to say something else, but the boy stood up, took his tray, and walked away. This time, Bai Shi didn't stop him.
***
That night, lying on the hard wooden board of his bed, Bai Shi stared at the ceiling, plotting.
The red dot of the surveillance camera swayed back and forth. From the other end of the monitor, the screen showed a boy lying stiffly on the bed, eyes wide open and motionless, looking like a corpse.
The man watching the monitors stared at the screen while clipping his fingernails.
On the screen, Bai Shi sat up and began pacing the room. He knelt on the floor to fiddle with an old radio, twisting the knobs in an attempt to find a signal.
The man at the monitor sneered. "Useless, beautiful."
Indeed, it was useless. No matter how much Bai Shi turned the dial, all he heard was the crackle of static. It wasn't even a proper radio; a cassette tape was jammed inside, and it wouldn't play music.
On the screen, Bai Shi gave up on the radio and began circling the room. He stared at the walls, walking from one side to the other, carefully reading the words scrawled there. He was getting closer and closer to the area directly beneath the camera.
The man put down his nail clippers and leaned toward the screen, tracking Bai Shi’s movements. His throat bobbed.
He watched as Bai Shi reached the spot beneath the camera and suddenly looked straight up. The man shuddered, licking his lips.
At that moment, he realized the radio on the floor was gone.
In the next instant, the screen dissolved into static.
The man stood up abruptly, grabbed his baton and keys, and strode toward Bai Shi’s room.
He threw the door open. Bai Shi was sitting on the bed, greeting him with a cold smirk.
The man closed the door behind him.
Bai Shi was like a budding willow tree, exuding the vigorous energy of early youth. He sat diagonally on the bed with one leg drawn up; his other foot was bare on the floor. His loose trouser leg was rolled up, revealing a pale ankle. One arm rested on his raised knee while the other braced him against the bed. He tilted his head, watching the man with a face of utter tranquility. His growing black hair was slightly wavy, falling loosely to frame his face. His skin was startlingly white. His dark, bright pupils were like deep, still water, and his blood-red lips held the ghost of a curve. His beautiful face was devoid of expression, making him appear exceptionally haughty.
The man walked over and looked up at the camera. There was nothing left but a few dangling, broken wires.
"Where's the camera?" he asked in a low voice, making a symbolic gesture with his baton.
Bai Shi suddenly remembered this man. Back when he was observing the patients in the hall, this guard had always been watching him.
Bai Shi didn't move. He looked at him calmly and pointed behind the man. "Back up. Stand over there if you want to talk."
The man reached out and pinched Bai Shi’s chin, forcing his face upward. "Who do you think you are?"
Bai Shi laughed. "Who do you think I am, you pervert?"
He glanced at the man’s crotch, where a bulge was visible. The man lowered his eyes, and his grip on Bai Shi’s chin slowly relaxed. He stepped back slightly.
As he looked at Bai Shi, he felt as though the boy was like a bamboo shoot breaking through the soil—at a threshold where his joints were thickening and his limbs were lengthening. He was struggling out of the torso of a porcelain doll; his flesh, bone, and muscle were all hardening. The oppressive aura that had always surrounded him had finally found a body that suited it. Bai Shi looked like a god of war from Greek mythology—arrogant, innocent, and terrifying.
There was a window in Bai Shi’s room, and the man was standing in the pool of moonlight it cast. He stepped forward again to escape the light. He looked at Bai Shi, and Bai Shi looked back, unblinking.
He stood there for a long time, and Bai Shi watched him. Neither spoke. As the silence stretched, it ceased to be a mere gaze and became a contest. One sat calmly, expressionless, his pupils like bottomless dark pits, slowly generating a chilling sense of dominance. The other stood holding a baton, but in this prolonged confrontation, his knees began to feel weak. That icy gaze sent waves of heat through his lower abdomen. His palm grew slick with sweat against the handle of his baton until he could barely hold it.
"I knew you were different the moment you arrived," the man began, launching into a self-indulgent monologue. Bai Shi remained on the bed, watching him impassively.
"You aren't afraid at all." The man’s voice dropped. He tightened his grip on the baton, then loosened it, staring into Bai Shi’s eyes. "You don't resist, either. The people and events here don't matter to you. Your eyes are too dark; you're too indifferent." The man reached out, attempting to touch Bai Shi’s face, but pulled back just before making contact.
"Looking at you, I knew. You're the one. No one could be more perfect. You have talent. You are a pool of dark water." The man stepped forward until he was almost touching Bai Shi. "If you were to disappear here, no one would notice. You should be afraid."
Bai Shi let out a soft "tsk." "In other words, if someone else were to disappear here, the person responsible wouldn't be found either."
Simply because of the contemptuous tone in his voice, the man’s face flushed deep red. His legs gave way slightly, and he swayed, his eyes growing moist as he looked at Bai Shi. "I should take you to the isolation cell and lock you up for a week."
Bai Shi sneered.
The man bit his lip. He swayed again, struggling to stand straight. He rubbed his own arm, unable to hold the baton; it fell to the floor with a heavy *thud*, rolling a few times. In the quiet night, the sound was exceptionally loud.
"You should feel afraid." The man squeezed his legs together and sucked in a sharp breath. The bulge in his trousers became even more prominent, the fabric dampening slightly at the tip. He stared at Bai Shi’s lips. "You destroyed the camera. If anyone finds out, you're finished."
His face was flushed, yet his lips were pale.
Bai Shi finally understood. This man was sick. But why him?
Bai Shi touched his own face. "Is it because of the face?"
The man was honest. "Because of the face."
Bai Shi let out a cold laugh, watching the man wobble just because he smiled.
"Don't force it. If you can't stand, then kneel."
As if granted salvation, the man sank to his knees. He tried to reach out to touch Bai Shi. "I knew you had talent..."
Bai Shi didn't let the hand touch him. "Put your face on the floor."
The commanded man retreated a bit with pleasure, arched his back, and pressed his face against the floor by Bai Shi’s feet.
Bai Shi stepped on his face. The man closed his eyes and let out a long, satisfied sigh. Bai Shi ground his foot down. "The things one finds in a place like this..."
The man nodded against the floor. Bai Shi pressed harder. "Don't move."
The man went still.
Bai Shi asked him, "The boy who spoke to me today—what's his name?"
"Zhou Linyuan."
"How long has he been here?"
The man didn't answer immediately. He slowly reached out to touch Bai Shi’s foot. "I answered your question. Give me a reward..."
Bai Shi kicked his hand away. "You think you're worthy?"
The man pulled his hand back. "Three years."
Bai Shi smiled. He stood up, walked a circle around the man who was contorted in a grotesque posture on the floor, and then crouched in front of him. "You're the one who should be locked up in here."
The man stared at the shape of Bai Shi’s body as he crouched, his throat bobbing. "In here, everyone is a prisoner." He couldn't stop himself from reaching out to touch Bai Shi. "And besides, I can't afford the fees here."
Bai Shi suddenly stroked the man’s hair, his voice turning tender and soft. "Good boy. You should have a little more self-control. I told you not to move, so why are you still reaching out?"
The man snapped his head up, looking at Bai Shi with shimmering eyes. He was almost in tears. He leaned his body up, trying to kiss Bai Shi’s mouth. As he drew close, Bai Shi smiled, his voice returning to its cold, contemptuous tone. "You really are pathetic..."
The man froze, then slowly shrank back, prostrating himself on the floor once more.
Bai Shi sat on the windowsill, the moonlight failing to illuminate his face in the shadows. "Now, get out."
The man obediently stood up, picked up his baton, straightened his clothes, brushed off the dust, and wiped the tear tracks from his face. He asked Bai Shi, "I'm leaving now."
As the man pulled the door open, Bai Shi looked at his back. "Next time, give me your phone."
The man stiffened. He closed the door and turned back. "You want to run?"
"Of course." Bai Shi sat on the windowsill, his foot resting on the bed. "You think I’m going to stay in a cesspool like this?"
The man looked at Bai Shi’s young, arrogant face. With the light source behind him, he possessed a vitality like a spreading vine; for better or worse, nothing could stop his growth. The man almost bowed down before this oppressive sense of the future.
"Understood..."
Bai Shi propped his chin on his hand. "I'm not the first one you've targeted, am I? What happened to the ones before me?"
The man submissively opened the door to bid Bai Shi goodbye. He paused specifically as he was closing the door to answer the question. "I was just taking a gamble. If you weren't who you are, you would be in a very miserable state right now."
With that, he gently closed the door.
Bai Shi smiled.
***
The next day, Bai Shi sat at Zhou Linyuan’s table again.
The moment Bai Shi sat down, Zhou Linyuan moved to stand and leave, but Bai Shi called out his name.
"Zhou Linyuan."
His movements stopped. He sat back down, looking suspicious.
Bai Shi pulled something out of his pocket—something crushed into fragments—and sprinkled it into his own food. He stirred it a few times, then picked up the tray and placed it on the neighboring table.
Zhou Linyuan watched him, but Bai Shi offered no explanation.
A short while later, the bald man arrived. He came to harass Zhou Linyuan as usual, this time pouring milk down Zhou Linyuan’s collar before laughing and sitting down at the neighboring table.
Zhou Linyuan watched him eat the tray of food Bai Shi had just spiked.
"What was it?" Zhou Linyuan finally spoke to Bai Shi.
Bai Shi shook his head. "Just wait."
This continued for four days.
Bai Shi always found an opportunity to sprinkle something into the bald man’s food. He made sure to do it right in front of Zhou Linyuan, as if explicitly telling him, *I am doing this for you.*
On the fourth day, as the bald man was eating, he suddenly froze. He felt a dry, searing pain in his throat and began drinking water frantically. He moved from one table to another, searching desperately for water throughout the hall, clutching his stomach, and dry-heaving until he spat out blood.
The caretakers finally arrived to drag the thrashing bald man out of the hall. Everyone watched with curiosity, but only Zhou Linyuan stared at Bai Shi.
The bald man died.
The following day, Bai Shi and Zhou Linyuan sat at the same table for a meal. They hadn't spoken for several days. The silence was broken by Zhou Linyuan, who asked the question he most wanted to know.
Zhou Linyuan kept his voice low. "What was it?"
Bai Shi’s hands didn't stop; he was squeezing salad dressing onto his pasta, casually picking out the tomatoes as he gave a mundane answer.
"Glass."
The bald man had suffered internal bleeding for three days before dying of a ruptured intestine.
***
