Time began to be measured by Zong Yan’s arrivals.
Every time she came, she brought a candle and set it on the washstand. After she left, Si Jiang would stare at the flickering flame and count the seconds. “One, two, three…”
By the time the numbers grew too large to track, his most dreaded moment would arrive. With a faint sizzle, the flame would vanish entirely.
He would fall back into the nightmare.
Malicious voices cursed him in his ear: *“What are you waiting for? She won’t come back next time.”*
*“Just like your parents, she doesn’t want you either.”*
*“Don’t forget what you’ve done.”*
*“You’re going to die here.”*
*“Tell me, how long will it be until she sees you again? An hour? A day? Two days? Or will she wait until you’re rotting and stinking? Hahahaha!”*
Rotting and stinking.
In the darkness, Si Jiang blinked and lowered his head to sniff himself. He did indeed smell terrible. He was filthy. Anyone would find him unbearable. The high-spirited Si Jiang of the past seemed to be gone forever.
When Zong Yan entered this time, she was carrying a bucket of water.
For reasons he didn't understand, Si Jiang gave her a small smile, hiding a fawning desperation he wasn't even aware of.
Zong Yan’s gaze lingered on him for a few seconds before she said, “Move aside.”
“Huh?” Si Jiang was dazed. Having gone so long without speaking to a real person, his brain was sluggish.
“You. Stand in the corner.”
“Oh. Right.” Si Jiang dragged his legs and hurriedly moved to the side.
He watched as Zong Yan stepped into the cramped space, her body brushing past his as she bent down to fiddle with the floor. Si Jiang froze, unsure how to react. The last time he had physical contact with another person felt like a lifetime ago.
Zong Yan pried up a board wedged into the floor, revealing a hidden squat toilet.
“You should take a bath,” she said. “And I assume you haven’t used the toilet this entire time?”
Zong Yan spoke matter-of-factly, but Si Jiang’s face instantly flushed crimson. “I didn't go in my clothes!”
Zong Yan’s lip twitched. “You don’t need to explain to me.”
“I really didn’t!”
“It has nothing to do with me.”
Si Jiang was exasperated, yet he had no idea how to handle this woman. He could only watch as she tossed a set of clean clothes onto the washstand and instructed him, “Try to use the towel to wipe yourself down. Don’t waste water.”
Si Jiang curled his lip, skeptical. “How can I get clean without a shower?”
“You can shower; I won’t stop you,” Zong Yan said. “But I’m only giving you this one bucket. It’s for your bath and for flushing the toilet. How you use it is up to you.”
Having said that, she waved her hand, signaling for him to move back. Si Jiang thought she was repulsed by his filth; embarrassed beyond measure, he hid his hands behind his back.
However, Zong Yan simply took out a key and adjusted the point where the chain was fixed to the wall. The length of the chain’s free movement increased significantly.
Si Jiang took a hesitant step outward, then another. He managed to reach the edge of the washstand before the chain pulled taut, stopping him.
“Call me when you’re done. I’ll take the clothes.”
“…Fine.” Si Jiang nodded. Remembering something, he quickly added, “Thank you.”
Zong Yan paused mid-departure, but she offered no reply. For some reason, Si Jiang felt a pang of disappointment.
He sighed, stripped off the clothes he had been wearing for days, and tossed them aside. Then, he took the towel Zong Yan had hung on the bucket, soaked it in the water, and began awkwardly wiping his body.
How was he supposed to wash his hair?
Oh, there was a packet of Head & Shoulders nearby, the blurry image of a woman’s silky hair printed on it. Si Jiang didn't want to guess how cheap the stuff was. He closed his eyes and squeezed it directly onto his head. He knew that if he dared to be picky, Zong Yan would likely take everything away and let him rot in his own filth.
The clear water quickly turned murky and gray.
It took a great deal of effort for Si Jiang to convince himself that it was "good enough" and that he couldn't pursue perfection under these conditions. He looked at the bucket of dirty water with a disgusted grimace but still set it aside for later use.
The clothes Zong Yan had provided were clearly someone else’s old garments. Si Jiang tugged at them, uncomfortable with the coarse fabric. He wondered if he would have an allergic reaction.
He limped to the washstand and finally saw himself in the mirror again.
*Clatter.*
The man in the mirror startled him so much he took a step back. Who was that? Why was he so hideous?
Si Jiang touched his face in disbelief. From his neck to his cheeks, stretching all the way to his temples, his skin was covered in bloody scabs. Even the areas without obvious wounds were bruised purple and blue.
“Am I… fucking disfigured?!”
A face like this would surely make a child cry in the street. Si Jiang found it hard to accept. While bathing, he had noticed abrasions and contusions all over his body. The more serious ones had been given basic treatment, but superficial injuries like these had been ignored entirely. They were healing in the worst possible way.
He had been praised for his handsome looks since childhood. He had even overheard people whispering behind his back that while he was empty-headed and mediocre in ability, at least his face was beyond reproach.
But now, it seemed even the only thing he had going for him was gone.
*Thud.*
Si Jiang raised a fist to smash the mirror.
“If you break my things, I will make sure the same wounds appear on your body.”
A cold voice rang in his ear. Zong Yan had reappeared at some unknown moment, glaring at him with obvious displeasure. Si Jiang’s fist relaxed, and he withdrew his hand sheepishly.
“I wasn't going to do anything.”
“You’d better not.”
Zong Yan had come to deliver something else. She handed Si Jiang a small stool.
“What’s this?” Si Jiang took it, turning it over curiously. It was just a tacky little red plastic stool. Why give him this?
“You’ll need it for the toilet.”
Zong Yan picked up his dirty clothes and tossed them into a bag. She answered him without looking back, her back turned to an adult male as if she weren't the least bit afraid of a rear attack.
“?”
Why would he need a stool for the toilet? Si Jiang stared at the little red stool. Then, as a realization dawned on him, his expression became awkward.
“…You really are thorough.”
“I’m afraid of the mess.”
“Hey!” Si Jiang voiced his protest weakly. Perhaps because the bath had restored some of his energy, or because Zong Yan’s attitude wasn't too bad, his willful temper flared up. “If you just let me go, there wouldn't be any trouble at all.”
“Give up on that idea.”
“Why? Any normal person would want to escape if they were imprisoned.”
Zong Yan held the bag of clothes and looked at him with a strange, almost pitying gaze. “Do you really think you still have a home to go back to?”
“What do you mean?!”
“Exactly what I said.”
“Hey, make yourself clear! Don’t leave! Zong Yan, finish what you were saying!!”
“Zong Yan!!”
Si Jiang broke down.
Zong Yan left the fading shouts behind her. She turned a corner and entered the living room.
It was daytime. Outside the window was the desolate view of an abandoned housing development. Further away were ruins—ruins that, just a few days ago, had been high-rise buildings, symbols of prosperity and vitality. It was a world Zong Yan had never fit into.
But now, she suddenly found the scenery much more agreeable. Surely, the number of people in the world who were now like her had increased significantly.
She threw Si Jiang’s clothes into the trash, sat by the window, and pulled out her textbooks to study. The light was still good; she had to make the most of it. Once it got dark, she would have to use candles or a battery-powered desk lamp. She hadn't found a good solution for electricity yet, and her supply of candles was limited—she mostly had to save them for the person inside.
She had long since stopped fearing the dark. In the darkness, she actually felt more at ease. But the person she had brought back was different; he seemed exceptionally terrified of the dark, reminding her of her younger self.
When she was first locked away, she had been afraid too. But perhaps she was simply gifted; no matter what environment she was thrown into, she always managed to survive.
The soundproofing was limited. To the accompaniment of the occasional sobs drifting from the secret room, Zong Yan carefully flipped through her textbooks, committing important knowledge points to memory one by one. She didn't know how long the final exams would be postponed. The notices sent by the school were all related to the earthquake. They were tallying which students were safe and which were missing. Naturally, Zong Yan would not report Si Jiang’s name.
She didn't know how fast the national disaster relief efforts would be, so it was best to be prepared for the exams in advance. Perhaps there was still hope for the scholarship.
When the sunlight turned a dusky amber, Zong Yan finally closed her books. She walked to the outside of the secret room and opened a small peephole—a cat’s eye her stepfather had installed—to observe the interior.
Si Jiang wasn't in the toilet stall.
Zong Yan frowned and looked lower. A pair of bare feet appeared in her field of vision. The skin on the feet was very pale, the arches were graceful, and the ankles were thin yet strong, with long, slender Achilles tendons that made his calves look elongated and straight.
Si Jiang was at the door.
*Oh, I lengthened his chain earlier. I almost forgot,* Zong Yan thought indifferently.
*Why is this guy still crying? Is it necessary? And where do all these tears come from in a man?*
Zong Yan, who almost never cried, couldn't understand it. She felt a sense of doubt; things didn't seem to be progressing quite right.
She turned on her phone. The signal was weak but usable—the result of the state’s frantic efforts to repair the signal towers. The news, headlines, and notifications were all about the earthquake. Zong Yan swiped them away and opened a search engine.
"Sensory deprivation," "black jail," "dark room," "signs of mental breakdown," and "how to have an obedient dog" appeared in her search history. Over the past few days, Zong Yan had read a lot of research material.
Theory was one thing, but she felt that Si Jiang’s reaction was more intense and complex than expected.
She tapped her finger against the edge of the phone, organized her thoughts, and then typed keywords like "Si Jiang" and "Si Group" into the search bar. The Si family was, after all, the wealthiest in the city, so there was plenty of news related to them. However, when Zong Yan scrolled back to a much earlier time, she found her target information in an obscure corner.
*"The only son of the Si Group has been successfully rescued... The kidnappers were two adult males, aged 45 and 30, arrested at the scene... Business dispute... The operation took one month..."*
*"According to follow-up interviews, the young child underwent six months of psychological counseling..."*
The news report wasn't particularly detailed, but it was enough for Zong Yan to grasp the key information.
So that was it. Si Jiang wasn't as glamorous as he appeared on the surface.
That was perfect. Zong Yan didn't like beautiful things anyway.
***
