I was shoved into a sealed van, hood still on my head and wrists still bound. Beneath me, the cold, hard metal floor scraped at my bones. The van jolted violently, causing my head to slam into the wall. A sharp ringing filled my ears, but no one cared about me.
I couldn't move. My body was tossed like a ragdoll with each lurch of the vehicle. Every bump was like a heavy blow, shaking my internal organs and causing them to ache. I could hear the kidnappers whispering among themselves. I couldn't make out the words, but their voices dripped with sarcasm and hate.
I don't know how much time had passed when the van door suddenly slammed open with a bang, and a blast of cold night wind rushed in. I tried to lift my head, but they yanked me out, throwing me onto the cement. My knees scraped hard against the ground, the pain fiery and raw.
"So this is the Bai family's golden child," one of them sneered, his voice hoarse. "Even if he doesn't die from this, I can't stand watching anymore."
I tried to curl into myself but another kick flung me to the side.
They dragged me into an abandoned chemical plant, where rusted steel beams hung overhead, walls were crumbling, and the air was filled with a pungent chemical smell and stench. It felt like a forgotten mausoleum. No light. No sound. Only the stains of blood and rust whispered to me: this place had seen hell before.
I was thrown into a storage room, and the iron door locked with a click. There were footsteps coming from outside the door. Some were laughing, some were smoking, and some were excitedly saying, "Starting tonight, let Bai Wanyi see how much her son's life is worth."
That night, they began what they called "punishment."
Whips. Fists. Ice-cold water. Iron rods.
They asked for no ransom, made no demands, and just beatings, one round after another.
"Your mother destroyed all of us, and now we will destroy hers through you."
Pain blurred my vision. I truly thought I might die.
New wounds piled up on top of old ones. Blood kept pouring out from my back, shoulders, and forehead, soaking my clothes. The blood I shed in the warehouse hadn't scabbed over yet, and now it was torn even deeper. The wound on my knee was split open, the skin rolled up, and I could even see the white bones inside. I couldn't tell how many wounds I had on my body, I just felt like every inch of my skin was burning.
After the pain of my skin being torn apart, I felt bone-chilling cold. They poured water on me, and the night wind scraped my skin like a knife. I didn't even have the strength to shiver. Blood slid from my forehead into my eyes, and I could only vaguely see that the cracks on the shabby ceiling were like an open mouth, as if they wanted to swallow me whole.
Someone laughed. "Still not dead? Tough little bastard."
They took turns guarding and torturing me, and some even seemed to enjoy the pleasure of the violence. What they saw in me was no longer a child, but a symbol of revenge, a carrier of their past humiliation, failure, and hatred.
I passed out once. They thought I was dead and checked my heartbeat. I heard them discussing whether to bury or burn me, but when they found out I was still breathing, they continued to torture me, mocking me.
"He's really damn lucky. It would be better to keep him. It won't be too late to toss him around for a few more days."
Their laughter became the soundtrack of my nightmares. I lost all sense of time. Every minute and every second felt like being nailed to a crucifix of agony.
But I didn't die.
Living became their cruellest punishment.
I don't know how I survived that night.
Maybe it was hatred that supported me. Maybe it was that little bit of unwillingness. Maybe because I still remembered how that night, he chose Li Junxi. He turned away. He left me alone here.
I was the one discarded. The one left behind.
But I'm still alive.
A body covered with scars but not dead, a heart that has been hollowed out but still beating.
This is who I am—Zeyang.