Chapter Seventy-Five: The Cruel Truth

Chapter Seventy-Five: The Cruel Truth

The dimly lit interrogation room.

One wail after another broke the silence of the night, making the already eerie interrogation room even more terrifying.

Within the room, a faint scent of scorched flesh lingered. Having set aside the red-hot branding iron, An Guoming enjoyed a brief moment of respite, panting heavily, his eyes twisted with hatred as he glared at Bai Zeshao, who had just turned around.

At this moment, Bai Zeshao’s gaze fell elegantly upon the torture devices arrayed beside him, selecting one after another with practiced grace. He spoke casually, “This morning, you tasted the spiked iron brush; just now, you enjoyed the branding iron. I wonder what you’ll choose next?”

“You demon, you bastard!” An Guoming cursed furiously at Bai Zeshao’s back.

Bai Zeshao didn’t mind in the least. He merely smiled faintly, slapped his own forehead in mock frustration, and said, “I just realized I forgot to ask your name. What should I call you? I’m Bai Zeshao. And you?”

An Guoming only snorted coldly in response, his eyes furtively drifting toward the door.

“Don’t bother looking. Tonight, aside from the guards and duty officers, everyone else in the Special Affairs Bureau has gone home. Chief Ye left this morning and hasn’t returned since. You might as well cooperate with me,” Bai Zeshao remarked, noticing An Guoming’s subtle glances.

Hearing this, An Guoming’s heart sank, though he quickly composed himself. He didn’t believe the Bureau’s leadership would let Bai Zeshao interrogate him unchecked; after all, he was their bait. Otherwise, why would Ye Mao have stopped Bai Zeshao from torturing him that morning?

Just then, Bai Zeshao’s words interrupted An Guoming’s thoughts. “I haven’t been with the Bureau long, but I’ve always heard that you Red Party members are unwavering, willing to lay down your lives for your beliefs. Seeing you now, I must say your reputation is well deserved.”

He smiled lightly, picking up a bamboo skewer from the table. “I just wonder how long you can hold out.”

With that, under An Guoming’s terrified gaze, Bai Zeshao drove the skewer into his chest with a swift motion.

Drip. Drip.

Scalding, bright red blood trickled down the bamboo stick and spattered onto the floor.

“This part’s hollow. The blood will just keep flowing until you’re drained dry. Let’s try a few more.”

Thud! Thud!

Soon, An Guoming’s chest was bristling with bamboo skewers. Bai Zeshao watched the man’s agonized screams, a flicker of pity crossing his heart, but he quickly cast it aside. There was no turning back for him now.

Sitting in his chair, Bai Zeshao gazed at the filthy, deathly pale An Guoming across from him and tried to persuade him, “Confess. Spare yourself this suffering. You won’t last. This is only the third method—there are more than a hundred left.”

An Guoming was at his limit, his lips trembling uncontrollably. With a venomous glare, he spat, “You’ll regret this, boy. Someone will make you pay. You’ll regret it.”

“Regret?” Bai Zeshao laughed heartily. “Why would I regret it? I caught a Red Party agent—my superiors will surely reward me. As for your threats, if I’m in this line of work, I can’t be afraid of your lot.”

“I’ll say it one last time—let me go, or you’ll be finished. Your career will end here.” An Guoming’s voice was weak, but his words were resolute.

An Guoming’s words confirmed Bai Zeshao’s suspicions. Why else would capturing An Guoming mean the end of his own future? There was only one possibility: An Guoming had betrayed the revolution, and the Bureau had been using him for a greater scheme.

By capturing An Guoming, Bai Zeshao had inadvertently disrupted those plans. If he learned any further secrets from An Guoming’s lips, his future would become even bleaker.

Still, Bai Zeshao couldn’t help but admire An Guoming’s fortitude. He wasn’t sure he could have withstood this much himself.

Seeing An Guoming’s continued resolve, Bai Zeshao, eager to extract a confession before dawn brought new complications, ceased his attempts at persuasion. He selected yet another tool and pressed it into service on An Guoming’s body.

A guttural scream rang out.

Again and again, An Guoming’s cries echoed, his throat growing hoarse; by the end, his protests were reduced to powerless rasps and futile roars of defiance.

Bai Zeshao remained unmoved, working in silence, his hands never pausing—one instrument after another found its mark.

In An Guoming’s eyes, Bai Zeshao grew ever more terrifying. At last, as Bai Zeshao applied yet another device to his battered body, An Guoming could endure no longer. In a feeble, faltering voice, he said, “I... I... I’ll confess.”

Bai Zeshao, who had just reached for another tool, paused in surprise, then recovered. “Speak. Tell me what I want to know.”

“My name is An Guoming. I’m a Red Party special envoy stationed in Shanning. A few days ago, when I arrived, I was discovered and captured by your people. But I’ve already defected. In fact—”

“Silence!” A thunderous shout came from the doorway. Ye Mao entered with a young man at his side, both their faces dark.

Ye Mao’s sudden intrusion cut short Bai Zeshao’s interrogation, but by now, it was clear: An Guoming had betrayed the revolution, and had just confessed as much with his own mouth. Yet, Bai Zeshao regretted not learning what plan lay behind that betrayal.

Even though he’d long suspected An Guoming’s defection, the confirmation left Bai Zeshao sorrowful—the truth was simply too cruel.

Such is the revolution: some are willing to die for their faith, while others betray it along the way. Fortunately, these were but rare exceptions.

“Chief Bai, who authorized you to interrogate prisoners on your own?” Ye Mao shot a cold glance at An Guoming, then roared at Bai Zeshao.

“Chief Ye, Captain Wu gave me permission this morning to participate in the interrogation. You know that. Why shouldn’t I have the right to question prisoners?” This was no time to yield, so Bai Zeshao met Ye Mao’s gaze with a smile.

“Hmph. You can only interrogate prisoners when I’m present.” Annoyed at Bai Zeshao’s invocation of Wu Zhengke’s authority, Ye Mao’s tone was sharp.

“How was I supposed to know that?” Bai Zeshao feigned ignorance.

“Suit yourself.” Ye Mao sneered, stepping aside to reveal the man who had entered with him.