CRACK!
Uncle Bian expressionlessly prodded Huai Shi's face with an electric baton. Sparks flew as it crackled, and Huai Shi convulsed violently, screaming in agony.
The electric baton was withdrawn.
Huai Shi gasped violently for air, spitting out blood and saliva in large gushes.
Perhaps the basement was too stifling. Uncle Bian, suppressing the urge to cough, bent over and grabbed Huai Shi's hair, his aged face twisted fiercely. "Speak! Young man, tell me, what conspiracy are you brewing? What secrets are you still hiding?"
"Mysteries? Sounds like a good read!" Huai Shi choked violently, then asked with a cough, "Old man, at your age, you still read novels..."
Sparks flew again.
Uncle Bian took a step back and slowly sat down on a chair, watching Huai Shi's wretched state as snot and saliva flowed freely. The light illuminated his beast-like vertical pupils, shaded with indifference and savagery.
"Nice colored contacts..." Huai Shi spat out the saliva in his mouth, asking curiously, "Where did you buy them?"
"Really? Thank you." Uncle Bian touched the corner of his eye and said calmly, "After all these years, it's the first time I've heard someone compliment my eyes. You don't need to be envious. If you were born at the Border, all this comes free of charge."
Huai Shi raised an eyebrow but said nothing.
"Listen, kid, maybe you think you're on the side of justice, and Green Day is evil... and to some extent, you're right." Uncle Bian chuckled softly. "You see, in the Current Circumstances, many people like Western movies—the free Knight-Errants with their guns and White Horses, battling gangs and injustice... Romantic and thrilling.
In reality, the Border is like the Wild West, but not everyone is born to be a Knight-Errant, nor does everyone have the right to romance and passion.
Most of the time, all we can be are the backdrop walls for heroes to save, the inconspicuous poor, mere tools to provoke a hero's righteous anger...
Often it seems like we have many choices, but in truth, we have none."
He stared at the disheveled Huai Shi, his expression unchanging. "Just like me, just like you now.
We are enemies, young man, and we should fight to the death—why should I, born at the Border, not rightfully die there, according to the rules?"
"That sounds really reasonable," Huai Shi lamented genuinely. "It seems like you're all a bunch of unfortunate souls, just like me... So, since we're all brothers in hardship, why must one make things difficult for another? Why not let me go so we can be best friends?"
Sparks flew again.
The electric baton left a charred mark on Huai Shi's chest.
"Listen, young man, I've said all this to tell you one thing: Green Day isn't a bunch of lunatics. Even if we're seen as ruffians, bandits, and terrorists, we usually follow rules. In fact, we keep our promises even more faithfully than your Astronomical Society." Uncle Bian leaned forward, coughed softly, and studied Huai Shi's face. "I can assure you a good rest and a safe return, but you must be honest."
His cold gaze bore into Huai Shi's eyes as he questioned, word by word, "What, exactly, are you hiding?"
"What else can I hide? I'm practically baring it all, aren't I?" Huai Shi laughed, amused, gesturing to his naked upper body. He retorted, "Didn't Feng Ping tell you? My name is Huai Shi, male, seventeen years old, a student, part-time Xinhai action officer and secretary... A Second Stage Sublimator, just a Mountain Ghost who can only plant grass. What could I possibly have to hide?"
He stared back at Uncle Bian earnestly, asking, "You've nailed me here. What else is there for me to fear?"
"Yes, what is there to fear?"
Uncle Bian observed his face blankly. After a while, he slowly rose, started to cough uncontrollably, and covered his mouth. Others tried to approach, but he waved them away.
After a long moment, he finally calmed down, his eyes downcast.
"I'm sorry, young man. Perhaps I'm wrong?" he said softly. "But I am afraid of you."
His fear was undisguised.
As he gazed into those eyes, so reminiscent of ones he'd seen before, he finally understood the source of his unease. Hadn't he personally witnessed such a gaze once? So calm, yet so indifferent, as if the weight of death meant nothing. It was a gaze that cruelly surveyed all, devoid of malice, yet equally devoid of tenderness...
"Prepare for the live broadcast," he suddenly instructed. "Rod, pack up. After we kill him, we'll leave."
Rod was startled, looking up at Uncle Bian in astonishment. But when he saw that indifferent gaze, he shuddered involuntarily, said nothing, and obediently started packing.
"So, you're going to kill me now?" Huai Shi laughed through his coughs. "Aren't we friends?"
Uncle Bian looked down with pity, gazing at him. "Even friends must say goodbye one day, won't they?"
Death was drawing near.
But the torture finally came to an abrupt end.
With the placement of the spotlight, the harsh atmosphere vanished. Except for Huai Shi's panting, everything seemed to grow tender.
In the rare silence, the young man seemed liberated from his pain. Head drooping, he imagined invisible strings vibrating and couldn't help but hoarsely hum the melody of a nursery rhyme.
Peaceful and warm, as if bidding farewell to a dear friend.
*Ah, it will never change, let us be friends for life... At this hour, we bid each other farewell, until the day we meet again...*
"What's he singing?" the man holding the whip frowned. "I'll make him shut up."
"Let him be. Don't bother with him," Uncle Bian said coldly. He stood before Huai Shi, silently observing him until the hoarsely hummed song finally concluded.
As the spotlight turned on, the boy with downcast eyes appeared on the screen.
The live broadcast began.
.
.
.
.
In that instant, the Sublimators frantically running towards their target within the city received an urgent warning from Yao Queer. "Hurry up, they're starting the live broadcast ahead of schedule!"
The team leader was startled, fumbling to snatch someone else's phone to open the broadcasting app. "Who is it this time?"