Chapter 2: A Fate Worse Than Death

Once, she had feared most to go to the hospital for injections or blood draws. Each time, she would turn her head away, unable to bear looking, never realizing how insignificant that pain would seem to her now. Though the pain from earlier might have been only twice as sharp as a blood draw, the suffering to come was beyond anything she could measure.

Clenching her fists tightly, Jin'er closed her eyes, breathing deeply again and again, steeling herself for the ordeal ahead. Each trial of poison was a duel with death, and she could only passively endure its endless torment until that detestable man rescued her from the brink with his array of antidotes.

In mere moments, Jin'er began to tremble uncontrollably, her body shivering as she slowly collapsed to the ground. Her small form curled up helplessly like a kitten fallen into an icy cave, muffled groans of pain pressed from her lips. Her pale cherry lips quickly turned blue and purple, her eyelids rolling upward to reveal frightening whites, and a thin foam began to seep from the corners of her mouth.

Although the symptoms and agony changed each time, there was one absolute constant—after every ordeal that made life seem worse than death, she always believed she would die. Yet each time, she survived, and fell into the tangled contradiction of disappointment and relief.

Her mind felt as though it might explode, swelling and aching unbearably, while her chest churned with scorching liquid that surged up to her throat. Jin'er shivered as she tried to suppress the strange sensation, but soon both her body and thoughts slipped beyond her control, gradually swallowed by darkness.

She did not know how long she lay in that abyss. Eventually, the endless blackness slowly faded. Amidst a haze, she heard her own bright laughter, her mother's gentle, loving calls, and that deep, seductive voice. He asked, "Are you hungry?" He said his name was Night.

Her eyes grew wet, and though she had awakened, Jin'er did not wish to open them. Yet, even so, those long-lost voices she yearned for vanished, leaving no trace.

Tears soaked her neck as she sobbed softly and finally opened her eyes. Overhead was still the dim stone ceiling, and the strange, furtive sounds continued to echo around her. She wanted to get up, but her stomach was emptier than ever, her limbs limp and powerless, as if her soul might depart her frail body at any moment.

"Awake?" came the voice she loathed so bitterly.

"There’s a bowl of porridge on the table. Eat it, then go outside and gather some firewood. Bring back some wild vegetables and fruit while you’re at it." The man fussed with his medicine bottles as he spoke, never so much as lifting his head.

Jin'er wiped her tears, struggled twice in vain before finally climbing off the stone bed, dizzy as she made her way to the stone table. She lifted the bowl of cold porridge and drank. The bland porridge gradually became salty—the taste of her tears.

She felt wretched and weak, desperate for a few days of rest, longing for a decent meal. But now, she had no choice but to obey that evil man. He had poisoned her, making her take his antidote at regular intervals; otherwise, she would suffer and die from the poison.

She had once tried the agony of the poison’s effects, and it was truly a fate worse than death. Since then, all thoughts of escape had vanished, replaced by secret studies of toxins whenever he was away, hoping one day she might find a cure.

"Why are you still standing there? Get to work!" The man's sudden bark snapped Jin'er back from her thoughts. She frowned, set down the empty bowl, and dragged herself toward the mouth of the cave.

She swore to herself: the pain she had endured, she would repay him a hundredfold!