That was the last image in her memory from that day.
After that, everything turned to darkness, and she could recall nothing clearly.
It was as if she had fallen into a deep dream. In the dream, she saw Qin Nan again. She was in the water, swimming upward, while Qin Nan stood on the shore, wearing a black trench coat and holding a transparent umbrella.
Suddenly, she remembered—this was actually the first time they had met.
It was the autumn of her 25th year, her third year back in Nancheng.
She had just failed the civil service exam and was juggling job hunting with blind dates.
That afternoon, she had just finished one such meeting. The other party wasn’t very satisfied with her and left after a brief conversation.
They split the bill, and unwilling to waste the money or return home too early to endure her mother’s nagging, she stayed seated in the café after he left.
A light rain fell in the afternoon. Sitting by the window, she watched the traffic pass by until a young man appeared.
He wore a black trench coat and carried a transparent umbrella with a supermarket logo printed on it—likely a promotional giveaway. He stood just a meter away from her, separated by the window.
From inside, she studied him. He seemed completely unaware, which emboldened her to stare even more brazenly.
At first glance, he appeared merely clean-cut and decent-looking. But upon closer inspection, his eyes were striking, his nose straight—a kind of handsome that grew on you. She found herself momentarily entranced.
Perhaps she had stared too long, because he suddenly turned, sensing her gaze through the rain-streaked, fogged-up glass.
Their eyes met. She froze for a second, then flinched with the guilt of being caught peeping. Pretending nothing had happened, she turned away, trying to escape the awkwardness.
Yet moments later, she heard footsteps approaching. They stopped right in front of her. Slowly, she looked up to see the young man standing before her.
He didn’t speak, his brow furrowed as if searching for an opening line.
For some reason, she mustered the courage to take a deep breath, then smiled and extended an invitation: “Want to get to know each other?”
In the dream, Qin Nan smiled.
But then, inexplicably, the sound of heavy breathing filled her ears. It was like the slithering of some viscous, soft-bodied creature crawling over her, jolting her from the pleasant dream.
She slowly opened her eyes to complete darkness. It seemed someone had blindfolded her with a black cloth, though faint traces of light seeped through the fabric.
Beneath her was a narrow leather seat, creaking and swaying with movement.
Her body was utterly weak. Even with consciousness returning, she had no strength to resist.
Terror engulfed her, yet amid the fear, she found an unexpected clarity of mind.
She knew exactly what had happened to her and instantly understood—she couldn’t let on that she was awake.
At that moment, she was acutely aware that she had to feign unconsciousness. Only by convincing this person she knew nothing, that she couldn’t possibly identify him or report him, would she have a better chance of survival.
In films, TV shows, or other artistic depictions, such situations are often portrayed with a tantalizing, almost primal fascination—glossing over the pain and danger as if they were mere footnotes.But in reality, genuine sexual assault cases are accompanied by immense violence, bloodshed, and are inextricably linked to death.
She tried her best to stay calm, to steady herself, recalling all the information she had ever learned or known to seek any possible means of escape.
She clenched her teeth, forcing herself not to tremble, willing her body to relax.
Over and over, she told herself: Stay calm, stay composed. Don’t let fear consume you.
She detached all her emotions and consciousness, focusing only on memorizing every detail she could perceive.
His scent, his approximate weight, the density of his body hair, the muffled sounds he made—everything, absolutely everything within her reach, she had to remember.
Yet the process sickened her beyond endurance. The agony was unbearable.
Her jaw remained locked.
What kept her going was the thought that she could survive, that she could seek revenge, that she could make this person pay the rightful price for everything he had done.
Time crawled unbearably slow.
So slow that despair began creeping in.
There was no pleasure, no excitement—only relentless pain radiating from her body and an indescribable, soul-crushing humiliation.
She was nearing her breaking point.
She could no longer maintain the initial rationality to record details. To alleviate the torment of the moment, she desperately clung to memories of every beautiful thing she had ever experienced in life.
She thought of her childhood, standing atop a building, gazing into the distance as the city stretched endlessly toward the horizon, the morning sunlight bathing every corner of the world.
She recalled the high school pledge ceremony, where, as a representative of her underperforming school—one that barely graduated twenty college-bound students a year—she led everyone in solemn vows.
She remembered cycling with university classmates, the first time she met Qin Nan on a rainy day.
She even recalled a small detail: on her wedding day, surrounded by Qin Nan’s relatives and friends as they posed for photos.
The photographer shouted, “Say cheese!”
Qin Nan, standing beside her, quietly reached for her hand.
Qin Nan…
The pain intensified, and she shuddered uncontrollably.
The man above her gripped her throat. In her dazed state, she faintly heard him growl in a low voice, “Still pretending?”
She had no strength left. Whether he had deliberately altered his voice or her terror had distorted her perception, she couldn’t recognize who it was.
Fear swallowed her whole. Death loomed overhead.
Her body stiffened as he flipped her over, forcing her onto her knees into an even more degrading position.
“Scream,” he commanded. “Or I’ll kill you!”
Too terrified to resist, trembling, she let out her first sound—short, sharp, a broken “Ah.”
The moment that “Ah” escaped her, something inside her shattered completely.
She burst into wailing sobs, screaming over and over.
The pain was unbearable. Not physical—this was a deeper agony, one that spread from her heart to her fingertips, the kind of pain that comes when your spine is broken and your spirit collapses entirely.
Was this humiliation of the body?
Perhaps. Or perhaps not.
It felt as though every ounce of shame she had ever endured in life was now being enacted upon her in this single act.
Trampling her, degrading her, proving that all her efforts were futile, that every struggle turned to ashes.
She was unworthy.
She had no right to happiness. Every hope she’d ever held would be ground into dust by this world.
Even survival now felt like mercy, luck—an uncertainty.She wailed, the scenes before her eyes constantly shifting, feeling her spirit crumbling bit by bit until, in the end, she forgot everything.
The final moments were especially violent and excruciating. She felt as though she was about to die.
Then, a faint light appeared before her.
She desperately reached forward.
From behind that dim glow came the impassioned recitation of her sixteen-year-old self, echoing from that Monday speech.
It was a voice she had never heard in her dreams.
"We strive, we fight, we resist, enduring the darkest of times, for a brighter future is within reach."
"There is no suffering too great to overcome, no despair too deep to endure."
"Use knowledge to change your life, use effort to alter your fate."
"Let me go..."
"I am Ye Sibei from Class Seven, Grade One. I will never give up on becoming a better version of myself."
Tears blurred her vision as agony spread through her entire being.
She felt the light gradually dimming.
In that instant, she finally shattered—as if her flesh were being torn apart by unseen hands. She screamed in torment, "Let me go!!"
"Let me go—ahhhhhhh!!!"
It was fate. It was despair. It was the silent, watching deities above.
It was suffering. It was condemnation. It was humiliation. It was an unspeakable, suffocating shame.
Like towering mountains collapsing upon her, crushing her fragile body beneath their weight.
She was no indestructible Monkey King. When the Five-Finger Mountain pressed down, even the faintest, most hidden, most insignificant shred of hope was ground into dust in the darkness.
My god...
At that moment, she thought—
If you exist in this world, open your eyes.
Give me a thread, a sliver, the tiniest glimmer of light.
Save Ye Sibei.
My god.
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