Qualified Person

Jiangcheng No. 3 Detention Center. Most of the red paint on the iron door peeled off, and the exposed rust glowed dullly in the humid air. The fluorescent light at the end of the corridor had been flickering for three days and no one had come to fix it. Every time the lamp went on and off, it cast a twisted shadow on the wall, like something approaching. Shen Yan leaned on the bunk, closed his eyes, and tapped his knees unconsciously with his fingers. Once, twice, three times. This is a habit he developed after he came in, counting time by beats. The days in the detention center are frozen. There are no clocks, no sunrises and sunsets. Only the opening and closing of the iron door for delivering meals marks the three times a day. But Shen Yan doesn't need a clock. Three days ago, the person who delivered the food was changed. The new guard's walking rhythm was wrong. It took fourteen steps from the end of the corridor to the iron gate, one step longer than before. The extra step landed right in front of the iron gate, and there was an imperceptible pause, as if he was hesitating for something. Also, the rice gets cold faster. This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.