Human relationships are strange — a geography of shifting borders. You pass from unknown to intimately known. From friend to enemy. From parents to strangers.
Is the way we see others not simply a mirror held up to ourselves? When you call another selfish, untrustworthy, cold — are you not describing the ghost that lives in your own chest?
People change. But most do not.
The bond between a child and his mother is the root of all roots. If that root was cracked in childhood, you will grow — yes — but never straight. Never as stable as you dream.
My mother was always smiling. Joyful, most days. My father was absent, chasing work beyond the horizon. I grew up inside four walls — sometimes alone, sometimes tangled with my brothers and sisters. My mother took my hand. She wanted me to grow, so she pushed me into the world. And I grew. Then I drifted — further, farther. I screamed at her sometimes. Strange, isn't it?
A man does not cherish his loved ones until they are gone.
Before marriage, we imagine a mountain. After marriage, the only paths are death or divorce.
If you could go back — look at your mother again through the eyes of a child, not a man — would you treat her the same? Or would you rewrite every harsh word, every cold shoulder?
Here, in this chamber of stone and blood — two corpses on the floor, crimson seeping into the cracks, climbing the walls like slow ivy, pooling from Harry's chest — there is no room for joy. Only regret.
What did I do wrong? What could I have done better? What did I fail to do when I should have?
Now, stripped of all excuses, all distractions, the questions cut like glass.
Why not change now? Why not do today what you will only mourn tomorrow? We gaze at the past with wet eyes — but we never learn. There is an old saying: Mountains may shift, but a man's nature never moves.
Hard to accept. But true. It is not that people refuse to change. It is that change demands a price most are too weak to pay.
I watched it all — the choking, the shooting, the bodies falling. And somewhere deep inside me, something clicked. Something that had been buried — dark, deep, unseen — broke through the soil of my chest. And with it came a truth:
Life is not what you think.
It can vanish as fast as a sound. As fast as a breath. We wake each morning and feel nothing — because waking has become ordinary. But death waits in the next second. Always.
Qingren, kneeling in that reddening light, understood at last: life must not be taken lightly. But neither must it be surrendered to chance. It must be seized — shaped by our own choices, our own character, our own will.
He looked down at his trembling hands. He did not try to still them. A single tear slid from his eye, falling onto the stone where Harry's blood was still spreading. He let it fall.
Let it be a vow, he thought.
......................
Gu did not speak, He looked at us — not with anger, not with pity. Just a long, slow gaze, as if he were reading something written on our faces. Then he turned his back and clapped his hands once.
Three figures emerged from the light beyond the door. They moved without sound, without expression. They dragged the two bodies — the sewn-mouth man and Harry — across the floor. A dark trail of blood followed, a line drawn between the living and the dead. The chains that had bound Harry were removed, link by link. The metal clinked against stone, then stopped.
The child watched, his hands pressed over his mouth. Jeffrey watched, his face a closed door. I watched, and I felt nothing — which was worse than fear.
The figures pulled the corpses through the light. Gu followed. The door shut. Boom.
Then darkness. Then silence.
Not the kind of silence that swallows sound. The kind of silence that reminds you how alone you are.
After some time — I could not measure it — Harry's name came into my mind. I thought: maybe this was meant to happen. The old question: destiny or choice? If destiny is real, then nothing we do matters. If choice is real, then why did Harry die? I turned to Jeffrey.
"What will happen to us?"
He answered without looking at me. "I do not know. But you are alive for now. That man died in front of us, but we keep breathing. Life does not stop for anyone. Not for kings. Not for slaves. Not for Harry. Not for you. Not for me. That is not cruelty. That is just fact."
He paused. His voice was tired.
"I think the smiling man will return soon to tell us what comes next. So while we wait, we should think of a way out. This game has been played before. We are not the first. We will not be the last. But I refuse to be a pawn. I am not free — but I can choose how I am used. Or whose hand moves me."
I thought about what he said. It was not a poem. It was too heavy for poetry. It was a man telling the truth. I wondered: what happened to him to make him speak like this? What did he see? What did he do?
We waited.
The door opened. Gu entered. He walked past me and stopped in front of Jeffrey. He was smiling — not a joyful smile, but the smile of a man who enjoys watching others suffer.
"Because one of you died, and the first task failed, you will have the second test. This time, you must decide which one of you will be the judge."
I thought: no. So we must kill one of ourselves? Is that the game? I was afraid — not of killing. I was afraid he would say aloud the secret I had buried for years.
Gu laughed quietly.
"Let me introduce the three criminals in front of me."
He pointed at Jeffrey.
"First — you, Jeffrey. Or should I call you by your real name?" He spoke a name I could not understand. Another language. Another world. "This old man was a general of war for ten years. He ordered the destruction of Renmin City. More than one hundred thousand people died. That is what history recorded. I could tell you more, but even I cannot speak of it. You look like an angel, Jeffrey. But your past is darker than mine."
He pointed at the child.
"Second — this boy. Twelve years old. Cancer. His mother stole and killed to pay for his treatment. He knew everything. He said nothing. Perhaps he was afraid to die."
He pointed at me.
"Third — you. A university graduate."
He stopped. He said nothing else. Just stared at me with that smile.
I was confused. Why did he hide my secret? Why did he protect me? What did he know? Questions flooded my head, each one drowning the last.
Jeffrey looked at me and smiled — a small, sad smile. The child showed nothing. But I felt that both of them understood something I did not.
Gu placed a gun on the floor, exactly in the middle of the three of us. Close enough for anyone to grab. A test. A trap.
Then he walked to the door. His silhouette faded into the light. His voice came back to us, soft and cheerful.
"Let the task begin."
The door closed.
Darkness.
Silence.
Not the kind of silence that swallows sound. The kind of silence that waits for you to move.
.....................
Mother.
I am in a situation no one would envy. Not even my worst enemy.
I miss you so much. I want to go back — not to change everything, but to sit beside you and say nothing at all.
I regret what I did. Please forgive me.
If I get out of this place — if I see the sun again — I will change. I promise. If I return, please take me back. As your child. As the son you loved.
Mother.
I will come back.