DTTM 3

Chapter 3: Keep Your Eyes in Check

My right eye started burning again, and a dull pain rose up in my neck and even my entire back, as if an old injury had recurred.

Fortunately, Zong Yanlei looked at me up and down, but his gaze didn’t linger on my face for even a second before looking away.

My breath hitched, and my heart, which had been pounding in my throat, calmed down as his gaze moved away.

Fortunately I didn’t take off my helmet, so he probably didn’t recognize me.

I was secretly relieved when suddenly a passionate broadcast rang out throughout the space: “Let’s congratulate the successful conclusion of the competition. The contestants’ efforts are evident to all, and everyone’s achievements are well-deserved. Please welcome the first to third place winners to the stage to receive their awards!”

“Third place: Driver Xiang Bawang and navigator Messiah…”

Zong Yanlei frowned and looked up at the sky, seemingly unable to bear the noise: “I’m leaving first. Don’t share the bonus with me, keep it for yourself.” With that, he vanished from the spot in a flash.

“Hey!” the blond navigator called out urgently, but couldn’t stop him. He shook his head helplessly at the empty space and mumbled, “At least say ‘goodbye’ before you leave.”

“Second place: driver Cherry and navigator Rubber Bubble; First place…” The host paused deliberately for a moment before announcing the champion’s name in an even louder voice, “Driver Agares and his navigator Leisure Waltz! Let’s congratulate them!”

Underground competitions don’t require real names, so many people use strange and unusual IDs.

Agares, the second of the seventy-two demons of Solomon, a great demon who rules over thirty-one legions in Hell. This name suits Zong Yanlei quite well.

“Ha, I’ll go find Xiao Mei to play instead.” Before the host could finish speaking, “Leisurely Waltz” scratched his head and disappeared from the spot.

“Damn, isn’t that Zong Yanlei and Yi You from the Sun God Racing Team?” Xiang Ze appeared out of nowhere, clinging to the roof of the car, staring in shock at the spot where Agares and Leisure Waltz had disappeared. “Are those professional players stomping on noobs here? They made me lose so much money!”

I took off my helmet, shook my hair, and frowned at him when I heard his words: “Didn’t you say you were quitting gambling?”

Xiang Ze realized he had let something slip and quickly shrank back, saying, “I’m quitting, I’m quitting.”

My father used to say the same thing, but he never succeeded in quitting drinking, smoking, or gambling until his death.

“You don’t have to listen to what I’m saying, but I hope you’ll think more about Aunt Kou and Xiao Rou before you gamble next time.” Xiang Ze’s father died early, and his younger sister was born with intellectual disabilities. Their mother became a widow at a very young age and raised the two children with great difficulty. If there was anyone in this world who could evoke Xiang Ze’s compassion, it would probably be his unfortunate mother.

As expected, when I mentioned his mother and sister, Xiang Ze’s expression froze, and he looked away guiltily, his voice became much softer: “I know.”

Hopefully, this time he really meant it.

I glanced at the time; it was almost midnight. I told Xiang Ze I was logging off and asked him to accept the prize for me. Then, the neuro-navigation pod appeared.

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The streets of Zengcheng at noon were deserted, with very few cars and pedestrians. As I walked to get my car, I passed a Jing Shi church, and suddenly a dark shadow flashed behind me, followed by a loud “bang”.

I turned around in surprise and saw two gray-haired young men wearing masks throwing paint bombs at the exterior wall of the Jing Shi church. Bright red paint flowed down the white facade of the church, like bursts of blood.

As they threw things, the Penglai people let out shrill, ear-piercing laughs. When they saw me looking at them, they even gave me the middle finger: “What are you looking at, you lowly commoner!”

I didn’t want to get into a conflict with them, so I quickened my pace and left.

Although Penglai is a multi-religious country, only one religion is dominant and has the most followers, the Jing Shi religion (Pure World Religion).

The Jing Shi religion worships Balaka, the sun god who lifts up the sun day after day, sacrificing himself to warm the world. He is the omnipotent father god in the mythology of Penglai. Therefore, the doctrine of the Jing Shi religion is “accepting suffering.” They believe that suffering is a test sent by heaven, and that one should learn to enjoy and resolve it, rather than resist or hate it.

This veneration of “suffering” has led to a situation where, even today, when other countries around the world have widely adopted bone marrow reproductive technology and artificial wombs, Penglai stubbornly believe that real children should be born from the suffering of women. They reject the use of bone marrow cells to generate reproductive cells, abhor the use of artificial wombs to replace the pain of childbirth, and hate same-sex marriage and same-sex reproduction even more.

For three hundred years since the establishment of the Chu Dynasty of Penglai, the Jing Shi religion has been a constant companion, and is undoubtedly the “sacred religion” of Penglai. However, like all large organizations that have reached a certain scale, it was initially pure and spotless, but over time, it could not escape the gradual spread of corruption and decay.

The current pope is 95 years old, and in the past two years, except for some major events he absolutely had to attend, he has rarely made public appearances, with two younger bishops performing the rituals for him most of the time. Although it has not been explicitly stated, everyone knows that, barring any unforeseen circumstances, the next pope will be one of these two bishops.

However, just two months ago, these two most popular candidates for pope were exposed for two scandals: one was accused of keeping sixteen minors to satisfy his personal desires, and the other was accused of accepting billions in bribes and living a life of extravagance. Public opinion instantly ignited throughout Penglai. Although the Secretariat of the Sacred Religion immediately issued a statement denying the allegations, the public’s doubts and anger did not subside. Especially among the young people of Penglai, I have encountered several demonstrations in Zengcheng alone in the past month, which blocked the roads and made it impossible for four-wheeled vehicles to pass.

Under pressure, despite no further announcements, the two bishops were finally dismissed from their posts two days ago and relegated to small rural towns as priests. From the Church’s perspective, this was undoubtedly their maximum compromise, but the young people of Penglai were not satisfied. Seeing a cockroach meant the house was infested with them. They gathered and marched, protesting in front of various Jing Shi churches, and even threw paint bombs at churches at night.

As I drove the truck out of the parking lot, I glanced back at the church as I passed it. The drunken young man had already left, leaving behind only the mottled walls and broken bottles scattered on the ground.

No one knows how long this farce will last, and the Secretariat of the Sacred Religion must be in a real bind lately.

Thinking of the “Secretariat of the Sacred Religion” inevitably reminds me of Zong Yanlei’s mother.

Madam Zong’s given name was Wuxi Li, and she came from the prominent Wuxi clan of Penglai, sharing the same surname as the late Queen Wuxi, the mother of the current Crown Prince. The Wuxi clan had close ties with the royal family, and many clan members held important positions in the palace. Madam Zong herself served as the “Chief Press Secretary” of the royal family. She and Zong Yanlei’s father, Zong Shen’an, were betrothed since childhood, a political marriage, with neither of them having any feelings for the other.

I remember when I first entered the Zong family, Zong Yanlei and his parents would sit together for meals. I could often hear royal gossip during their meals, such as someone having an affair or someone getting a divorce. More often, it was Zong Shen’an and Wuxi Li arguing.

Zong Shen’an was truly the most lecherous man I’ve ever met. He loved every woman in his household, every mistress, and every woman near his home; he had a different mistress almost every week, and he was completely oblivious to the opinions of others. During my years at the Zong family home, I stumbled upon him and his mistresses several times in the mansion late at night. For a long time afterward, I was haunted by the thought of walking at night, stopping at every corner to listen, afraid of witnessing something unsavory.

Whenever his parents argued, Zong Yanlei would always continue eating as if nothing was wrong, seemingly used to it or indifferent.

I remember one morning, I was serving tea behind Zong Yanlei when I overheard his parents arguing and became quite engrossed. Wuxi Li couldn’t stand Zong Shen’an’s absurdity and told him to tone it down, but Zong Shen’an retorted that he was just like that, and if she couldn’t stand it, she didn’t have to watch.

A soft “clink” was the sound of porcelain clinking against a teaspoon, subtle yet enough to alert me. I snapped back to reality and looked down to see Zong Yanlei holding an empty teacup in one hand and a silver teaspoon in the other, staring at me with a blank expression.

Instantly, the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end, like a Pavlov’s dog, and I reflexively smiled at him.

[In Pavlov’s experiments with dogs, he found that after conditioning dogs to salivate at the sound of a bell (which was paired with food), the dogs would also salivate in response to similar sounds, like a buzzer.]

“The tea is a little hot, please be careful when you drink it.” I quickly bent down to refill his cup with tea.

Zong Yanlei’s gaze, colder than ice, lingered on my face for a moment before settling on the corner of my lips.

My smile gradually faded, and I remained bent over, pursing my lips, unable to meet his gaze.

Given Zong Yanlei’s personality, I was prepared to have hot tea poured over my head, but he turned away as if nothing had happened.

I secretly breathed a sigh of relief, thinking he had taken pity on me and let me go. But as soon as I finished eating and returned to his living space, the door closed, and he turned around and slapped me across the face.

It turned out that it wasn’t that he wasn’t going to punish me, he was just waiting for a more appropriate setting.

“Is it funny to watch my parents argue?” he asked me as he sat down on the sofa.

I lowered my head, my face burning, unsure how to respond. I felt that any reply would be a trap.

“Smile, why aren’t you smiling anymore?” His right index finger tapped the armrest of the leather sofa, making a rhythmic “tap-tap” sound, like a demon impatiently flicking his tail.

I dared not meet his eyes; my gaze could only linger on the area below his neck. Just as I was racking my brains for a solution, I suddenly noticed a bright red dot on his fingertip.

Zong Yanlei’s affected skin is very fragile; even a soft cloth brushing against it can leave a mark. Therefore, bandages are usually wrapped around these areas for protection. Now that the bandages was stained, it’s clear that the skin underneath was broken.

Seeing that he seemed completely oblivious, still tapping on the armrest, I couldn’t help but reminded him, “Young Master, you’re bleeding.”

Zong Yanlei paused his fingertips, looked down at his hands, clicked his tongue, and after a moment slightly raised his arm towards me.

I quickly realized what was happening, rushed to the low cabinet next to me, took out the first-aid kit, and then ran to Zong Yanlei’s side. I knelt on the carpet, took his hand, and carefully treated his wound.

The bandages loosened layer by layer, and when the last bit fell away, a hand covered in sores was revealed before me. The pad of his middle finger had likely suffered the most pressure; the skin had torn, revealing a small patch of bright red flesh. Throughout the treatment, Zong Yanlei remained completely silent, only occasionally, when I wiped the flesh with a cotton swab coated in antiseptic ointment, his fingertips would tremble.

After treating the wound, I carefully rewrapped the bandage. It was a delicate task; wrapping it too tightly would damage Zong Yanlei’s skin, while wrapping it too loosely would cause it to fall off. The perfect fit was just right to minimize the impact on his daily life.

“Young Master, it’s done.” I carefully placed Zong Yanlei’s hand back on the armrest and then tried to get up, but his “Hmm?” immediately pinned me in place.

“Did I tell you to get up?” He looked at his right hand, speaking slowly. “Slap yourself. You can’t stop until I tell you to.”

His punishment for my mistakes wasn’t over.

“Oh.” I didn’t plead for myself. I raised my arms and obediently slapped myself with both hands.

I didn’t hold back, and both cheeks swelled up quickly. This punishment lasted for about ten minutes, until my face was numb, before Zong Yanlei finally called it off.

“Keep your eyes in check. If you don’t want them, I’ll gouge them out for you, understand?” He pressed his bandaged fingertips against my right eyelid.

When he said that all my organs belonged to him, I had no doubt he meant it.

“Understood, young master.” Enduring the malicious force on my right eye, I gave him a docile and ingratiating smile.

Later, as Zong Yanlei’s condition continued to worsen, and the relationship between Zong Shen’an and Wuxi Li continued to deteriorate, the three of them ate together less and less. By the two years before I left the Zong family, they were eating separately.

Earlier this year, perhaps weakened by years of indulgence in alcohol and women, Zong Shen’an suddenly collapsed with a severe illness. Although he was resuscitated, he never regained consciousness and remains in a vegetative state. Upon hearing this news, my first thought was: Madam Zong must be very happy; one less mess to clean up.

When I got home, Wei Jiarui was still asleep. I checked on him, took a shower, and then went back to my room to lie down.

Because I was afraid of running into Zong Yanlei again, I never accompanied Xiang Ze to a competition again, no matter how much he begged me. The last time, it even ended up being a bit unpleasant.

“You don’t treat me like a brother!” He kicked the flower stand with a livid face, then left without looking back.

For the next two weeks, I rarely saw him. Even when I occasionally caught a glimpse of him from afar at the seedling nursery, he always had a stern face and looked away. I wanted to have a proper talk with him, but I was busy delivering goods during the day and taking care of Wei Jiarui at night, so I couldn’t find a suitable opportunity.

Therefore, when I received a sudden phone call from Xiang Ze in the middle of the night, and heard him tearfully recounting that he owed a large sum of money to loan sharks and that even selling his kidney wouldn’t pay it off, leaving him with no choice but to die, my feeling was less one of unprepared shock and more one of expected sorrow.

He finally reached this point.