One person said: The essence of Wuhou Qimen lies not in Qimen, but in Wuhou.

Zhang Chulan nodded vigorously, the movement so large that the large bump on his forehead, the size of a pigeon egg, trembled three times.

His voice was filled with unconditional obedience and profound self-criticism: "Fourth Brother, we've come this far, whatever you say is right! I'm listening! Just don't be angry!"

Xu Si took the cigarette from his lips and slammed it heavily on the table. The cigarette butt hissed out on the metal tabletop, leaving a black scorch mark.

He glared at Zhang Chulan, his voice suddenly rising eight octaves, each word filled with the anger and lingering fear of being tormented for two days and two nights: "Damn it! Admitting your mistake now? Where were you all before! These past two days have been a nightmare for me—it's like walking on a knife's edge, my life hanging by a thread! You almost ruined me, you know? I, Xu Si, have been struggling in society for forty years, step by step, to get to where I am today, and I was almost brought back to square one—all thanks to you!"

As he spoke, he suddenly threw the stack of handwritten reports in his hand at Zhang Chulan's face.

The papers scattered in mid-air, fluttering down like a flock of white doves, swatting at Zhang Chulan's head and covering his face and body.

Zhang Chulan blinked briefly when the paper hit him, scraping his swollen cheek and making him gasp in pain. But he didn't flinch, remaining kneeling motionless.

Xu Si poked at the air with his finger—probably at the stack of reports and Zhang Chulan's direction—and continued, "Look at you, you stupid college student! It's written clearly in the report—you're a fucking virgin, and you still got seduced! A 'female technician'! And you even said Feng Shayan 'offered herself'! And 'set your terms'—you're pretty capable, you're pretty shameless, you're pretty arrogant!"

He got angrier and angrier as he spoke, and kicked the empty chair next to him.

The iron chair was kicked and sent flying, crashing into the wall with a loud bang. It bounced off the concrete wall and then fell back to the ground, leaving a clear white mark on the back of the chair.

Xu Si withdrew his foot, stood still and gasped for breath, his chest heaving violently, clearly having exhausted his lung capacity from that outburst.

Zhang Chulan carefully picked up the scattered reports from the ground, page by page, his movements light and slow, as if afraid of damaging some precious artifact.

He neatly stacked the papers in page order, aligning the four corners, and even tapped them on his knees before holding them high in his hands, pointing them towards Xu Si.

His voice was filled with sincere humility and cautious flattery: "Fourth Brother, I confess! If I've told a single lie, may I be struck by lightning and never get rich in this lifetime! This was so hard to write—really, I wasn't even this careful when I wrote my Chinese essay for the college entrance exam, every single stroke! This is a work report, Fourth Brother, you still have to show it to your superiors, right? Keep it safe, Fourth Brother, please keep it safe."

Xu Si was stunned for a moment after hearing these words.

He looked down at the neatly stacked reports Zhang Chulan was holding in his hands, then at Zhang Chulan's face, which was swollen like a pig's head but full of sincerity, and his lips twitched twice.

Then he reached out, slowly took the report, patted it in his palm, turned and placed it on the iron table next to him, his movements much gentler than before.

He turned to look at Zhang Chulan again, his tone still full of disdain and sarcasm, but his voice had returned to normal volume: "You poor college student, what kind of wealth will you ever make? Even the God of Wealth would shake his head at you. You'll never eat four dishes in your entire life. You're so enlightened now, huh? Where were you before? Now you know how to think of me? Why weren't you thinking of me when you ran away the other day? You son of a bitch!"

He pointed to the stack of reports on the iron table, his tone shifting from anger to impatient command: "Sign! Put your fingerprints on! Hurry up!"

Zhang Chulan quickly got up from the ground, his knees making a cracking sound from kneeling for too long.

He scurried over to the iron table, picked up the ballpoint pen, bent down, and solemnly wrote "Zhang Chulan" in the signature column on the last page of the report. He then pressed a standard red fingerprint of his right index finger in the fingerprint column next to it.

After signing and pressing the button, he pushed the report forward, turned around to look at Xu Si, and forced a smile on his face.

That smile, combined with his current facial condition—bruised and swollen—didn't look like he was trying to please anyone; it looked more like he was expressing, in an extremely distorted way, "I'm very good, I'm very obedient, please don't hit me."

He even said in a tone that was both shy and submissive, "Fourth Brother, is this all over? I've confessed everything honestly; I'm the victim, Fourth Brother! Was that charge just to scare people? I'm only nineteen this year; I'm still young. I just got into university; I can't go to jail! I've never broken the law before—I wouldn't dare assault a leader! I've already signed and put my fingerprint on it; doesn't that prove I'm telling the truth? Does that mean it's all the Feng family's business?"

Then he changed the subject, leaning closer to Xu Si by half a step, lowering his voice, and adding in a suggestive tone, "Oh, by the way, has that Feng Shayan been interrogated yet? If she doesn't obey—I suggest, Fourth Brother, we use torture!"

When Xu Si heard Zhang Chulan say the word "torture" with that pig-head-like face and a charming look, his body involuntarily trembled, as if someone had thrown a block of ice down his neck.

He suddenly reached out and shoved Zhang Chulan's pig-face, which was too close to his, away. Then, he kicked Zhang Chulan in the butt, sending him flying several steps away.

He rubbed the goosebumps on his arms, his disgust and revulsion reaching their peak: "Get out of here! You're disgusting as a grown man! 'Confessing without hesitation,' and you even got cocky after I praised you for being a college student, using idioms! Torture! You two are really something else, aren't you!"

He brushed off non-existent dust from his shirt, straightened his collar, and spoke in the standard, righteous tone of a company executive: "Our company's language emphasizes strict discipline! Civilized interrogation and acting in accordance with the law are the ironclad rules of our company! No form of torture or forced confession can be used against any criminal—no, suspect! This is clearly stipulated in the Party Constitution and the laws of the country!"

Zhang Chulan was kicked to the corner, clutching his buttocks, standing there with a completely bewildered expression.

He reached out his trembling hand and carefully touched his cheek, which was so swollen that it was almost unrecognizable. His fingertips touched the purplish-blue bruises, and he hissed and gasped in pain.

He looked at his fingers, then at the righteous and stern Xu Si, and finally couldn't hold back his tears.

His voice was choked with sobs, every word filled with the innocence of being subjected to double standards and the torment of his soul: "Then, Fourth Brother—what's going on with me? My face, my eye sockets, my forehead—isn't this torture?"