The phrase ‘passive resistance’ was a violation of the rules. If someone reported it, the offender would be penalised with a point deduction, while the informant would be rewarded with three points.
Qin Mu gave the acne face a warning glance, then pretended he hadn’t heard anything and walked away. Since the start of the school term, he had never once taken the initiative to report others—this was a line he had silently vowed never to cross. Though he feared the electric shocks, he feared more the possibility of turning into mad dogs moulded by authoritarian policies and relentless brainwashing like those of his ‘classmates’, willing to betray kindness for a few bonus points or to avoid punishment.
The ‘correction and reform’ continued. During this period, Zheng Yan came to visit him once. Under the teacher’s arrangement, Qin Mu ‘proactively and willingly’ knelt down to wash Zheng Yan’s feet, all while reciting the words he had memorised so thoroughly from daily repetition—that he had been rebellious during adolescence, obsessed with being different, which had led to psychological problems; that he had defied his parents, disobeyed them, been unfilial and committed grave sins; that from now on, under the guidance of his teachers and classmates, he would work hard to reform himself…
When he reached the part about being grateful for his parents’ nurturing, he kowtowed heavily and shed tears.
Qin Mu felt as though a personality entirely alien to himself had split off from him. This personality was like a skilled actor, precisely performing a carefully written script’s expressions, gestures, and lines. Meanwhile, his true self was filled with hatred and disgust, watching numbly from within.
He saw the rare joy and satisfaction on Zheng Yan’s face. The same face just like when she used to look at his report cards. She was overjoyed and hugged him with tears in her eyes, saying, “My son has come back! Thank goodness, my son has come back…”
Who was this ‘son’ of hers? Qin Mu dazedly wondered as he lay in that familiar yet unfamiliar embrace. If what she liked and needed was a fake version of him, then what meaning did the real him have?
The true self that had been repeatedly swallowed by waves of loneliness, helplessness, fear, pain, and despair but still clung stubbornly to the driftwood, refusing to sink. What exactly was it struggling for?
Whether he left or not, no one was waiting for him outside.
Qin Mu had never felt so helpless as he did at that moment. And yet, he smiled and hugged Zheng Yan tightly in return, just like a prodigal son halting at the edge of a cliff and returning to his mother’s embrace.
That night, he curled up under the blanket, covered his mouth with his hands, and cried in silence. Afterwards, he tried hard to convince himself to stay strong. He silently recited the classical poems he had learned, seeking comfort—
Cling tight to the green mountain, never letting go.
Treat raging fire as if it’s nothing at all.
When mountains pile, rivers twist, and no road seems ahead, a village appears through the shade of willows, bright and new.
Walk to where the stream ends and sit watching the clouds rise.
He wanted to draw courage from those ancient people who had been long gone. These lines became his fragile thread to the outside world, his faint connection to his real teachers and classmates—like flickering fireflies in the night, emitting a sliver of light that kept him from being forever lost in the dark. Even now, he was using all his strength to preserve his final shred of authenticity, holding tight to his own sense of right and wrong, good and evil, true and false as resistance against the unending brainwashing and assimilation.
But the hand holding the pen of fate refused to stop writing and slowly inscribed unreadable passages.
One day, two months after arriving at the reform school, the yellow teeth man went out to receive new students, and Qin Mu’s reform teacher was replaced by a man in his forties—Teacher Zhou. His face was broad and fleshy with the top of his head balding. He was brutal toward the students, quick to punish and beat them, and Qin Mu was very afraid of him.
The discipline room’s air conditioning was off. Baldie Zhou came in wrapped in a down coat, plopped himself down on a stool, looked Qin Mu up and down, and smirked crookedly, “Take off your clothes and pants.”
Qin Mu froze. Normally, the yellow teeth man only made him take off his shirt—never his pants.
Seeing his hesitation, Baldie Zhou lifted his discipline ruler and lashed it hard against Qin Mu’s shoulder, shouting angrily, “Hurry up!”
Qin Mu gasped from the pain. His hands trembled as he took off his clothes and outer pants, peeled off his thermal bottoms, and stood there with his arms down.
Baldie Zhou raised his eyebrows. “Don’t you understand human language? I said everything off!”
“Teacher Zhou…” Qin Mu was both humiliated and terrified. He tried to plead but was struck again. In the end, with tears brimming in his eyes, he pulled down his underwear.
“Well-developed, huh.” Baldie Zhou used the discipline ruler to poke at Qin Mu’s pen-s, speaking with a mocking smile. “Heard you like men?”
“I used to be sick in the head. I don’t like them anymore.” Qin Mu didn’t dare move. He was cold and nervous, trembling all over.
Baldie Zhou slapped him twice on the face with the ruler. “Lying through your teeth. I can tell at a glance.” Then he stood up, slowly circling around Qin Mu twice—then, without warning, pressed up behind him.
Qin Mu flinched and instinctively leaned forward, only to be caught around the neck by Baldie Zhou’s elbow. Baldie Zhou lowered his voice and said, “Aren’t you shivering from the cold? If Teacher holds you like this, you won’t feel cold anymore.”
Qin Mu, struggling to breathe, had to lean back. He tensed and stammered, “Teacher Zhou… I’m not cold anymore.”
“Lying again. Want to be locked in the black room?” Baldie Zhou saw he was frightened and said slowly, “You young kids, always stirring up trouble. Homosexuality, huh? Do you know how homosexuals do it?” He tossed the ruler aside, and his rough hand slid down Qin Mu’s spine, into his buttocks, pressing a finger against Qin Mu’s anus. Leaning into his ear, he said, “It’s about shoving a d1ck in here and thrusting. You know about the prostate, right? Thrusting there will make you aroused. Heh, little brat, want to try it?”
Qin Mu, pale and trembling, said, “Teacher Zhou… I don’t want to try…”
“Don’t like that? There’s another way. Shove the d1ck in your mouth, ram it down your throat, fvck it hard, and shoot it all out for you to drink as a tonic.” Baldie Zhou kneaded Qin Mu’s buttocks playfully and said, “I still prefer your ass—nice and perky, soft. It’d probably feel good to thrust into.”
“Teacher Zhou… please don’t, Teacher Zhou…” Qin Mu was terrified and began to cry.
“Stop pretending, little liar. I know what you’re thinking. Tired of being a good kid, hitting p***rty and wanting to play rebel to seem different. Don’t you like being a homosexual? I’ll let you have a taste. Go bend over the lectern and stick your ass up.”
Qin Mu was terrified. He didn’t react until he was pushed to the lectern. He broke free and turned to run. But the door was locked, and the windows were barred with iron grilles—there was no escape. Baldie Zhou grabbed him. Qin Mu shouted for help and struggled with all his might.
No one came.
Baldie Zhou took a few hits to his face and body and was enraged. He threw Qin Mu to the ground, straddled him, and slapped his face over a dozen times until his mouth bled and his face swelled painfully. He tied Qin Mu’s hands with his belt, unzipped his pants, and molested Qin Mu while pinning him down. Qin Mu resisted fiercely from beginning to end, his tensed body preventing penetration despite bleeding. Unable to enter, Baldie Zhou could only thrust between his legs a few times to satisfy his lust, then panted and ejaculated on Qin Mu’s face.
Qin Mu was dragged out for electric shocks and locked in solitary confinement to starve for a whole day.
He began to run a fever. The high fever dragged him into a delirious, terrifying nightmare, tormenting him repeatedly with no escape.
The half-baked school doctor was too lazy to care, tossing him cold medicine and fever reducers before leaving. Perhaps because his fever was alarmingly high, the yellow teeth man, worried he might die and cause trouble with his parents, exempted acne face from drills and classes to watch him. He fed Qin Mu fever reducers when his forehead burned too hot.
Acne face, a few years older, was named Lang Feiran1feiran meaning brilliant/outstanding—his parents hoped he would be outstanding. But in his senior year, Feiran veered off course. He was sent to this facility for two years due to internet addiction and refusing to study. Qin Mu gleaned details from his ‘profound self-analysis’. Before coming, Feiran was a rising provincial esports player, about to sign with a team. However, his parents couldn’t understand the value of online gaming and believed he was wasting his life. To ‘save’ him, they forcibly sent him here to cure his addiction. Feiran resisted so fiercely upon arrival that he broke a finger, which never healed properly—his right index finger, once used for clicking a mouse, remained slightly curled.
Acne face had truly been ‘saved’. He was the most exemplary student, strictly following every rule, tearfully reflecting on his ‘crimes’, revering teachers almost devoutly, and eagerly reporting any hint of trouble. He was a model ‘wolf dog’, and so he was made class leader. The school occasionally showcased him as a ‘reformed exemplar’ to parents, demonstrating its corrective success. When the yellow teeth man went to pick up new students, Feiran was the ‘bait’ to escort them. He was entrusted with all dorm keys, locking doors after nightly checks and collecting diaries. Feiran vowed to stay at the school forever, serving to repay the teachers’ kindness in remaking him. So, the teachers trusted him to watch Qin Mu.
Qin Mu woke at noon, groggy. He sipped from an enamel cup handed to him, then hoarsely thanked the person before him, realising it was Feiran.
The others were out drilling, leaving just the two of them in the dorm. Feiran glanced at the door, lowered his voice, and asked, “Did he succeed?”
Qin Mu pursed his lips, silent, then gently shook his head.
Feiran smiled. He gave him a thumbs-up and said, “Good job.” He handed over a cold steamed bun. “Eat. You need strength to survive here. Listen to me if you don’t want to die.”
Qin Mu took it, silently chewing the rock-hard bun, tears falling unnoticed. He hurriedly wiped them, but Feiran pulled the blanket over his face.
“Cry if you want,” Feiran said. “You don’t snitch on others, and I won’t snitch on you.”
Having lived long in a place of mutual surveillance and betrayal, Qin Mu wasn’t sure if he should trust him. When he calmed down, he emerged and thanked Feiran again. He ate the bun with hot water. His swollen face and eyes throbbed with every chew. He wanted to rest, but Feiran insisted he get up.
Qin Mu struggled to stand, his injuries making him weak.
Feiran asked, “Can you run?”
Qin Mu shook his head and felt it was impossible. Someone passed by, calling from the door, “Class leader, Teacher Chen wants you.”
Feiran responded, then whispered hurriedly, “Rest well, don’t sleep too deeply tonight,” and left.
They had no further chance to talk.
That night, when everyone was asleep, Qin Mu felt a light tap on his back through the blanket. He opened his eyes and was startled. Feiran covered his mouth and wrote ‘escape’ in his palm.
Qin Mu stared at him in shock, at a loss. Baldie Zhou had already set his sights on him, and he might not be able to escape the fate of being r4p3d next time. He didn’t know if he could trust Feiran, but what choice did he have? He had no way to escape by himself. After a long time, he finally nodded tremblingly.
Acne face left the dorm door unlocked, and Qin Mu followed him quietly, tiptoeing out.
It was snowing outside, and it was bitterly cold.
Acne face led him skillfully past the field and staff dorms, silently approaching the small iron gate at the school’s entrance. Crouching in the wall’s shadow, he stuffed two buns into Qin Mu’s clothes and placed a brass key in his hand, whispering, “Open the gate. If the guard wakes, I’ll stop him. Don’t worry about anything—just run.”
He pointed to the right at the mountains. “Don’t go to nearby towns; the locals are in on it and will catch you for a reward. See that mountain? Its south side has a tourist spot. At dawn, find out-of-town visitors for help. Remember, don’t trust your parents—they sent you here once, they’ll do it again.”
Acne face hugged him and touched his face. “Don’t be scared. Unlock the gate and run. Don’t look back.”
Qin Mu remembered the pale mist around his mouth when he spoke, the warmth of his embrace, the unusually bright eyes, and the last glance as he turned back after unlocking the gate—Feiran was grappling with the burly guard.
Amid the blaring alarm, he heard a hoarse shout behind him.
“Run, Qin Mu—run fast—”
He ran desperately, so fast he felt he might take flight.
The biting wind whipped away the tears that blurred his vision. The cold sliced his face like a knife and poured fiercely into his lungs. Like a startled antelope, he fled through the snow, his heart pounding as if it might burst. One shoe fell off, but he didn’t dare stop to retrieve it, his sock grinding painfully against stones.
He held his breath and raced over barren hills. Two blinding beams swept over him, followed by a screeching brake. A massive vehicle screeched to a halt just before hitting him, leaving deep skid marks in the snow.
In terror, he collapsed. He scrambled to rise but tripped on a stone, rolling into the snow.
“Hey, you okay?” someone shouted in the snow.
T/N:
The lines listed come from different Chinese poems and were well-known excerpts from several classical works,
1. Cling tight to the green mountain, never letting go.
From: 《竹石》 (Bamboo and Rock)
By: 清·鄭燮 (Zheng Xie, Qing Dynasty)
A metaphor for perseverance and inner strength, using bamboo as imagery.
2. Treat raging fire as if it’s nothing at all.
Loosely reminiscent of a line from 文天祥’s 《正氣歌》(Song of Righteousness) or other patriotic poems. Possibly imitating classical tone to express fearlessness in hardship.
3. When mountains pile, rivers twist, and no road seems ahead, a village appears through the shade of willows, bright and new.
From: 《遊山西村》 (Strolling Through the Village of Western Hills)
By: 宋·陸游 (Lu You, Song Dynasty)
Describes a sudden sense of hope and discovery after feeling lost or trapped.
4. Walk to where the stream ends and sit watching the clouds rise.
From: 《終南別業》 (Retreat in the Zhongnan Mountains)
By: 唐·王維 (Wang Wei, Tang Dynasty)
A famous couplet that suggests a peaceful, Daoist outlook—serenity in uncertainty.
All thanks to gpt for helping me finding the poems fast ><
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