Chapter 426: The Fantasia of Cream and Blood |
On the massive screen, light and shadow flickered.
"Happy birthday to you... happy birthday to you..."
Lei Zhong, playing the drug lord Cha Cai, hummed a tune that was completely off-key.
In his hand, he held a silver butter knife, elegantly cutting through the double-layer cream cake in front of him.
Yet, accompanying this cheerful melody was the dull thud of a blunt instrument striking flesh.
"Thud!"
The shot cut to a wide angle.
Just three meters away from the long table, two thugs were swinging steel pipes,
frantically beating a "blood bag" on the floor that was already unrecognizable as a human form.
This extreme contrast in sight and sound was brutally hammered into the eardrums of every audience member in Hall Four.
Sitting beside Jiang Ci, Chu Hong’s shoulders flinched involuntarily.
She didn't need anyone to explain.
As the long-time wife of a narcotics officer, she was all too familiar with this tactic.
It was called "killing the chicken to scare the monkey."
"Come on, Ah He."
On screen, Cha Cai used the tip of the knife to lift a piece of cake smeared with bright strawberry jam and offered it to Jiang He.
The camera zoomed in for a close-up.
Jiang Ci's face, even when magnified dozens of times on the IMAX screen, showed not a trace of acting.
His pupils were in a state of physiological dilation, a stress response from extreme terror.
But he smiled.
It was a smile uglier than crying, his mouth corners straining upward, pulling at the wounds on his face and oozing blood.
"Th... thank you, Uncle."
Jiang He reached out, but didn't dare take the knife.
Instead, he leaned his face directly toward it, opened his mouth wide, and bit down on the cake.
Cheap, plant-based cream smeared all over his face, even sticking to the tip of his nose.
It was somewhat ridiculous.
But no one could laugh.
The girl in the front row, who had been munching on popcorn, stopped completely.
Because the sound of swallowing coming through the speakers was too loud.
"Gulp."
As Jiang He frantically swallowed, he also used his peripheral vision to glance at his comrade-in-arms being beaten on the floor.
That physiological reaction of wanting to vomit but having to force it down made his eyeballs bloodshot, a terrifying shade of red.
"Is it good?" Cha Cai asked.
"It's... it's good." Jiang He licked the cream from the corner of his mouth, his voice trembling. "Really sweet."
Hall Four was dead silent.
Even breathing was pressed to a minimum.
In the shot, Cha Cai nodded in satisfaction.
Then, he threw the silver cake knife onto the floor.
"Clang."
The crisp sound of metal striking.
"Ah He, if you've eaten Uncle's cake, you're Uncle's man now."
Cha Cai pulled out a handkerchief and slowly wiped his fingers.
"Today's your birthday, so Uncle is giving you a gift."
He pointed at "Nail" on the floor, who was now barely breathing, only exhaling, not inhaling.
"Go. Send him off."
"And for yourself... break your fast."
At that moment,
the line landed, crashing onto everyone's hearts.
Jiang Ci felt the hand holding his grow even colder.
She was shaking.
Shaking badly.
On screen, Jiang He knelt on the floor, staring at the dagger just inches away.
The camera held a five-second close-up on his eyes.
In those five seconds, the audience witnessed what was called "the shattering of a soul."
He was weighing his options.
If he didn't kill, both would die, the mission would fail, and the defense line behind him would collapse.
If he killed, he would personally sever his own humanity, from then on plummeting into the endless hell of suffering, becoming a complete and utter demon.
This wasn't a choice.
This was death by a thousand cuts.
"If he doesn't move..."
In the last row, the man with the burn scar on his face,
his voice so low only the comrades beside him could hear, "If he doesn't move, the gunman over there will open fire."
"This kid acted it right." Another clenched his teeth, eyes bloodshot. "Back then, there was no other way but to become a ghost."
Finally.
Jiang He moved.
With trembling hands, he picked up the dagger.
Step by step, he shuffled over to "Nail."
"Nail" on the floor, his face had been beaten beyond recognition.
But he was still conscious.
He struggled to open his bloodshot eye, looking at Jiang He approaching with the knife.
That was his comrade-in-arms.
The brother he was shielding with his life.
Suddenly, "Nail" moved.
Using his last ounce of strength, he lifted his upper body, pressing his own neck toward the blade.
He was seeking death.
In close-up, "Nail's" two bloody, mangled lips silently moved twice.
"Do it."
"AHHH——!!!"
A beast-like roar exploded from Jiang He's throat.
He pounced.
Raising the dagger high, he brought it down fiercely.
"Schlick!"
Blood splattered.
It sprayed all over Jiang He's face, mixing with the white cream. Red and white intertwined, an eerily chilling sight.
"F**k you! F**k you!"
Jiang He shouted wildly as he swung the knife mechanically.
He looked like he had gone insane.
Every audience member in the hall was terrified by this brutal scene, their faces pale.
A few timid girls in the front rows even covered their eyes, unable to watch.
However.
In the last row.
"Good knife work."
The lead old detective, a hardened man who had spent half his life on the edge of a blade,
instead buried his head deep in his palms.
His shoulders shook.
Only these insiders could tell.
Jiang He seemed insane, seemingly drawing blood with every slash.
But each strike avoided the carotid artery, avoided the vital spots.
He was using this cruelty, enough to drive a normal person mad, to buy his comrade that faint glimmer of hope for survival.
This torment was worse than death.
"How much... must that hurt..."
Chu Hong's voice was very soft.
Jiang Ci's heart tightened, and he turned to look at his mother.
Chu Hong let go.
Slowly raised her hand, covering her chest.
A knife seemed to be stabbed there too.
Twenty years ago.
That day Jiang Yanjun came back, it was also a rainy night like this.
He brought back a shirt.
That shirt had been washed many times, but at the collar and cuffs, traces of a dark red stain remained that couldn't be washed out.
Back then, Chu Hong asked him, "Old Jiang, what happened to this shirt? Why does it still have a fishy smell?"
Jiang Yanjun was smoking at the time, his hands shaking so badly he couldn't even light the cigarette.
He smiled and said, "Nothing, got it from killing a chicken."
Killing a chicken.
Chu Hong believed it.
Or rather, she forced herself to believe it.
Until today.
Until now, looking at her son on the massive screen, covered in blood, kneeling and vomiting.
The riddle that had haunted her for twenty years was finally solved.
Chu Hong's tears broke through the dam without warning.
She didn't cry out loud.
She just bit her lip hard, until her lips turned white, until the salty, bitter taste flowed into her mouth.
So... this is how it was.
So this was the kind of life you lived back then.
Jiang Ci watched his mother.
[Detected extreme Heartbreak Value from a loved one +1314!]
The system's data jumped wildly, every single number a knife.
On the massive screen.
Lei Zhong walked over.
He kicked aside the already-unconscious "Nail,"
then crouched down and patted Jiang He's face, covered in blood and cream.
Jiang He was curled up in the corner, his body still convulsing violently,
muttering unconsciously, "Don't arrest me... don't arrest me..."
It was the characteristic muttering of drug addicts and those with mental breakdowns.
Lei Zhong smiled.
He was very satisfied with this "work of art."
"From today on, you are a mad dog I've raised."
Lei Zhong's voice echoed in the theater.
"You only bite who I tell you to bite."
The image slowly darkened.
That suffocatingly oppressive sound of gasping also faded away.
Just as the audience thought they could take a slight breath.
The screen lit up again.
A line of white text appeared on a black background.
[Three months later. Red River Hope Primary School.]
The style shifted abruptly.
Sunny skies, white clouds, a blue sky.
A group of children in brand-new uniforms were running and playing on the playground.
The background music was a cheerful children's song.
"Two tigers, two tigers, running fast..."
The childish voices were crisp and pleasant.
But placed right after that bloody slaughter, it sent a bone-deep chill down everyone's spine.
The camera zoomed in.
A man in a white shirt and gold-rimmed glasses
was standing at the podium, smiling as he handed out candy to the children.
It was Lei Zhong.
And standing in the corner of the classroom was Jiang He.
He was wearing a security guard's uniform, holding a baton.
But his once-clear eyes were now so dark, they were bottomless.
When a child ran over, held out a candy, and called out "Uncle,"
Jiang He subconsciously took a step back.
As if he had seen some extremely poisonous monster.
The terror and revulsion in his eyes were stronger than when he had just killed a man.
The "hook" was set.
This "Hope Primary School," a name that sounded so bright,
how many secrets darker than hell was it hiding?
In Hall Four, no one left.
Even those whose bladders were about to burst didn't want to miss a single second.
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