Chapter Three
Lin Mian's pupils still reflected the lingering glow of the interrogation room's dim lamp. Her whole body was rigid, as if mired in a swamp. Her pressed lips trembled faintly, and a bitterness she could barely swallow churned in her throat—she was weighing whether to accept the "marriage in name only" laid out before her. Outside, someone murmured, "We're here." The wheelchair rolled forward off the cold concrete floor, its wheels scraping along the narrow corridor, the echo making the emptiness feel even more pronounced.
Lin Mian was helped to her feet, and the thin light around her suddenly grew a touch gentler. She found herself in a transitional holding room of the detention center — more spacious and cleaner than the interrogation chamber, with walls painted a pale beige and a faint smell of disinfectant in the air. The sky outside was still dim; dull early light crept through the half-drawn blinds and settled on her damp eyelashes. The air conditioner droned softly overhead, and the chill had lifted; in its place was a mild warmth that relaxed her skin almost at once.
Lin Mian instinctively wiped the sweat from her brow. Her muscles had yet to fully relax from before, and a faint cold numbness still tingled in her fingertips.
A voice suddenly spoke up behind her: "No need—I'll help you." Qin Zhao'an appeared in the doorway and took the loose-fitting dress from her hands, then directed one of the attendants to fetch a change of clothes. She shivered involuntarily and looked up at him. Qin Zhao'an stood by the door, his expression cold and stern, though tinged with weariness. Deep in his eyes flickered a faint trace of concern, but it was quickly swallowed by the gathering darkness. His movements were brisk and precise as he laid each article of clothing flat on the bench by the bed: undergarments, a plain, modest overcoat, leather shoes exactly her size—every item quietly arranged in a neat row.
Lin Mian's breathing suddenly grew uneven; she couldn't tell what hidden shackles might lie behind this seemingly thoughtful care. Without looking up, Qin Zhao'an said in a calm tone, "Change into these clothes. Turn in your phone and any communication devices. From now until the marriage agreement is signed, all of your actions will be arranged by me. No more discussion—this is for your safety."
She gave a soft cough, and a shadow flitted across her vision. It seemed these new arrangements were not the end of it. A middle-aged woman in a charcoal-gray suit strolled into the room at an unhurried pace. A faint, almost lethal sternness sharpened her brow; her movements were measured, and she exuded a commanding presence that made one's blood run cold. "Section Chief Qin, this is Lin Mian?" the woman asked. Her voice was not loud, yet it sliced through the silence like an ice blade, sending a shiver through Lin Mian.
Qin Zhao'an promptly withdrew his hands from the clothes and stepped aside, bowing his head in a subdued greeting. "Yes, that was my oversight." The woman gave a slight nod, her expression one of casual indifference. Standing to the side, Lin Mian felt irritation bubbling up like boiling water inside her; her hands unconsciously wrung the hem of her shirt.
The woman regarded Lin Mian slowly, then turned to Qin Zhao'an with a scrutinizing gaze. "This marriage arrangement is an assignment from above, and it's not open to refusal. You're aware of the background, I assume?" Her tone was laced with quiet challenge.
Qin Zhao'an inclined his head gravely. "The external situation has changed abruptly—certain forces are trying to pressure us over the border issue… Miss Lin has certain ties to our side, so a marriage alliance is needed to ease the situation."
"In name only," the woman echoed, her thin lips tightening. "So this is a 'deal' by the state?"
The air suddenly turned so cold that even breathing felt difficult. Back in the interrogation room, Lin Mian had watched this woman's lofty gaze with guarded caution; now that gaze felt even deeper and farther out of reach.
Qin Zhao'an, as if caught off guard, turned to look at Lin Mian. Yet his tone stayed gentle as he tried to reassure her: "This marriage isn't what either of us wanted. You're not the only one bearing it—think of it as sharing a small burden for the country."
Lin Mian fell silent, as if frozen by a sudden chill. In that moment, she felt as though she had become nothing more than a bargaining chip in some exchange. The very air seemed to thicken; even her own heartbeat echoed unnaturally loud in the room.
The female superior took a slow sip of water. When she spoke again, her voice was calm but full of implication: "Section Chief Qin, take good care of her. If she makes any move, I want to know." With that, the woman dipped her head to them and turned to leave, moving as gracefully as if she were stepping out of a scroll painting—like a wolf slipping through pine woods on a snowy night, disappearing into the soundless dark.
Now only Qin Zhao'an and Lin Mian remained in the room. Lin Mian kept her eyes down on the few pieces of clothing beside her, her fingers unconsciously stroking the soft fabric. Qin Zhao'an straightened his attire and re-fastened his tie, then took each garment from the stool and helped her into them one by one, his movements precise and attentive. It dawned on Lin Mian that every article seemed to have been chosen with care: gentle, muted colors with no busy patterns—exactly the sort of style she preferred. And yet, she wondered, was this thoughtfulness meant for her safety, or simply another method of control?
"There's water over there, and toiletries on the table." He directed these words to the two accompanying guards, with clearly no intention of consulting Lin Mian. She could only nod dully, feeling as if she were nothing more than a piece of furniture being positioned at will—every movement of hers planned and slotted into place.
Before lights-out, after helping her change clothes, Qin Zhao'an double-checked the next day's itinerary. "Tomorrow morning at nine o'clock, the driver and I will take you to the designated location," he said softly. "You are not to step outside the vehicle at any time. We've even replaced the safety helmets and license plates with confidential codes." He frowned slightly, a faint half-smile on his lips. "Any last-minute change will trigger an alarm."
Lin Mian watched him pack away her belongings, feeling an invisible cage closing around her layer by layer. She shut her eyes, but she could no longer dispel the shadows rising in her mind.
In the depth of late night, memories flowed like water, magnified by the silence. She dreamed she was still shackled to that cold chair, a figure before her slowly reaching out a hand, a voice whispering in her ear again and again: "No freedom, only exchange." She jolted awake, her chest as cold as if an ice block were pressed against her heart. Her breath came in ragged gasps, as if she were struggling underwater, and even the taste of the air had turned heavy and acrid.
By now the light outside had dimmed to darkness, and night had locked everything in the room under its weight. Lin Mian bit her cracked lip and rolled over noiselessly on the cot, snapping her eyes open again and again to scan the room. The shadows clinging to the corners writhed under the lamplight, as if poised to devour her vision; and far down the corridor, footsteps occasionally echoed, only to quickly fade back into dead silence. She wondered if someone was out there in the dark, watching her.
She rubbed her aching eyes, recalling with perfect clarity a telltale sign from earlier that evening. While Qin Zhao'an was making up her bed, he had inadvertently pressed against the pocket of her clothes and seemed to notice something. As he straightened, a flicker of something strange passed through his eyes—too brief to hide, and she had caught it. His composed smile returned an instant later, but Lin Mian knew that some secret of hers had been exposed.
Outside, the night wind whispered coldly, yet a spark of resolve suddenly welled up inside her. However dangerous the road ahead might be, she could not simply drift along with the tide. In the darkness, she slowly clenched her fists, the skin at her knuckles scraping to a faint sting. She drew a deep breath, forcing all of her fear and confusion down inside, while her thoughts quietly unfolded new possibilities in the shadows. Perhaps—just perhaps—there was still a chance to turn everything around.