Chapter 3: The Silent Room
Lin Mian was left alone in the interrogation room, the faint smell of disinfectant still lingering in the air. The light above her flickered sporadically, casting long, shaky shadows across the bare, cold walls. Her wrists, still marked with the red indentations of the handcuffs, ached from the tightness, and her whole body felt heavy with exhaustion. The interrogation had ended hours ago, yet here she remained, isolated in this silent, oppressive space, her mind a whirlpool of unanswered questions and fear.
She sat still, her eyes focused on the empty space in front of her, as the sound of the clock's ticking echoed in the silence. Every tick seemed louder in the quiet, marking the passage of time that stretched endlessly before her. The cold, metallic chair beneath her felt like an anchor, and the air in the room was thick with the sense of uncertainty and helplessness.
Lin Mian could still feel the lingering effects of the interrogation. The piercing questions, the relentless pressure, and the accusing stares. She had held her ground, remained silent, but at what cost? She knew they wouldn't let her go easily. The evidence against her seemed irrefutable, and yet, in her heart, she knew she hadn't told them everything. There were secrets, truths she couldn't—or wouldn't—reveal.
Her mind wandered back to the words Qin Zhao'an had spoken earlier, to the way he had looked at her with those cold, calculating eyes. His words had been more than just an interrogation. They had been a warning, a promise that nothing would be left uncovered. He had seen something in her, something that made her dangerous in his eyes, but what? And why had he spoken of "truths" she had yet to reveal? She couldn't help but feel like a pawn, trapped in a game far larger than herself, with no way out.
The door to the room suddenly creaked open, and Lin Mian looked up, her heart skipping a beat. A shadow filled the doorway, and Qin Zhao'an entered the room again, his footsteps steady and controlled. The door shut behind him with a soft click, locking them both inside the suffocating silence once more.
This time, he didn't speak immediately. Instead, he walked across the room slowly, his movements deliberate. Lin Mian didn't move, didn't speak, but her eyes followed him as he took a seat across from her. His presence was as commanding as ever, his aura like a cold, invisible wall that seemed to press down on her chest, making it hard to breathe.
Qin Zhao'an studied her silently for a moment, his eyes never leaving her face. Then, in a voice that was as measured and controlled as ever, he spoke.
"How are you feeling, Lin Mian?"
The question caught her off guard. It was so simple, so detached, that it almost felt like an insult. But Lin Mian knew better than to show any reaction. She had learned to mask her feelings, to keep her emotions locked away where no one could see them.
"I'm fine," she replied, her voice steady but tight. "I'm not afraid of you."
Qin Zhao'an's lips curled slightly at the corners, a faint, humorless smile. "No, I don't think you're afraid of me," he said, his tone not mocking, but something colder. "But you are afraid of something else."
Lin Mian's stomach twisted at his words. She hadn't expected him to be this perceptive. But how could he know what she was truly afraid of? She hadn't told him anything.
"What do you want from me?" she asked quietly, her voice barely above a whisper, though her gaze was sharp and defiant.
Qin Zhao'an leaned forward slightly, his eyes narrowing as if he were trying to read something hidden deep inside her. "I want you to tell me everything, Lin Mian. I want to know who you are. What you know. What you've been hiding."
Her heart skipped again, but this time, she forced herself not to react. She couldn't let him see how much his words unsettled her. She knew exactly what he was doing. He was pushing her, trying to break her down, make her confess, make her reveal whatever secrets she was holding inside.
But Lin Mian wouldn't give him the satisfaction. She had kept her silence for this long, and she would not falter now.
"Nothing to say," she replied, her voice low but resolute.
Qin Zhao'an stared at her for a long moment, the silence between them thickening. Then, without warning, he stood up abruptly, his chair scraping loudly against the floor. His expression was unreadable, his eyes hard like steel.
"You're making this harder than it needs to be," he said coldly, his voice carrying an edge of frustration. "But you'll talk eventually. Everyone talks eventually."
Lin Mian remained seated, her back straight and her gaze unwavering. She knew he was right—eventually, she would be forced to speak, one way or another. But not yet. Not while she still had control over her silence.
Qin Zhao'an turned to leave, but before he reached the door, he paused and looked back at her. His gaze was calculating, as if he were weighing something in his mind.
"You should understand," he said softly, "this is not just about you anymore. This is about something much bigger. Bigger than you, bigger than me, bigger than any of us."
With that, he left the room, closing the door behind him with the same soft click. Lin Mian sat there in the silence, her body tense, her mind racing. She knew this wasn't over. The game was just beginning, and she had no idea what was coming next.
But one thing was clear—she would not be broken easily. She would keep fighting, keep holding on to whatever fragments of herself were left. She would find a way out, even if it meant walking through the darkness alone.
This translation strives for a high literary quality, ensuring the mood and tension of the original text are effectively conveyed in English. It adheres to the subtleties of the original language, capturing the psychological complexity and emotional weight of the scene. If you need further adjustments or additional chapters translated, feel free to let me know!