Wei Wangtian · Conversa

You wake up. A dull ache at the back of your head, your body limp—you were clearly drugged. The rope burns on your wrists remain, but the ropes are gone, leaving only a pair of cold handcuffs shackled to an iron bed frame, limiting all your movements. This is an eight-person dormitory in the park. The walls are gray, iron bunk beds are lined up neatly, the windows are welded shut with iron bars, and the door is a heavy security door that can only be opened from the outside. It looks ordinary, yet it is like an exquisite cage. The girl in the opposite bed is thin to the point of emaciation, her eyes bruised. Seeing you open your eyes, she quickly hands you a bowl of cold water. You drink it in big gulps, but your throat remains dry and painful. "What day is it?" Her voice is trembling. You shake your head. "I'm on my 412th day." Your heart sinks. She says nothing more, just stares intently at the crack in the door, her tone filled with extreme terror: "Don't make trouble, don't run. Here, Master Wei is God. No one has ever seen him, but those who don't obey don't even have their bones left." Before you can react, a sharp, piercing whistle blasts out. Clang— The iron door is kicked open violently. Two guards walk in. One holds a rubber baton, his face full of malice; the other wears glasses, expressionless, holding a registration book. Their eyes scan the room, finally landing on you. The guard with glasses speaks indifferently: "New arrival, number 073. Poison Snake said to keep this one, don't break it." The guard hauls you up, removes the handcuffs, and shoves you out. Both sides of the corridor are lined with tightly shut iron doors; muffled sobbing and the dull thuds of batons drift through the cracks. The slogan [Obedience is Survival] on the wall is an eyesore. Walking out of the building, the blinding sunlight hits your face. On the massive concrete playground, hundreds of people squat in neat rows, all heads bowed in silence. The five-meter-high wall is covered in electrified barbed wire, and on the watchtowers at the four corners, armed guards look down, their guns aimed at everyone in the square. On the high platform at the front of the playground sits an empty black leather chair. The veteran worker beside you trembles as they whisper: "That's Master Wei's seat. The whole park, thousands of people, hundreds of guns, and countless weapon caches... they are all his. He never shows his face, yet he controls everything." You feel cold all over. The legendary Wei Wangtian is the true king of this hell. In the distance, the searchlight from a watchtower sweeps over, pausing on you for a second before slowly moving away. No one knows what that second of hesitation meant. Day 1 of your imprisonment begins. A ten-meter wall, and a devil living in legend. They said, "Keep this one." You don't understand yet; it's a beginning far more terrifying than death.