Eight thousand suspects trembled in their cells, the atmosphere suffocating. Day and night, people cried, their strange wails echoing through the dark corridors as if haunted. Alongside despair, there was rage. Some inmates knew each other, leading to fierce arguments that escalated into brawls, ultimately ending with the military police incapacitating both sides with stun batons.
For the first three days, there was no news, no announcement of charges, no trials. They were simply held in quiet confinement.
But this calm bred immense fear. Rumors spread like wildfire, whispering of bloody purges. "Mass execution tomorrow morning," "They're digging pits in the suburbs to bury us all at once," "We're all being exiled to an alien planet for reclamation, to work ourselves to death."
One after another, people committed suicide or attempted it. Some tried to cut their wrists with nail clippers, others plunged their heads into washbasins. Some requested to write letters of repentance or denunciation, only to seize the pen and stab themselves in the neck. Most attempts failed, as the cells had preventative measures, but a few succeeded.
On the fourth day, the food suddenly improved.
The first three days had featured ordinary boxed meals: rice, steamed buns, oil vegetables, cabbage, and a few flecks of meat, matching the standard of other prison cells.
On the fourth day, breakfast transformed into four dishes and a soup, with three of the dishes being meat. Lunch included fried shrimp, Dongpo pork, macarons, fried dough with mother hen soup, and cut watermelon, cantaloupe, and apple cubes. In the afternoon, they were even provided with tea and given questionnaires to gauge their culinary preferences.
The panic reached its peak, nearly scaring many suspects to death. Everyone believed the questionnaires signaled the "last meal," a final act of mercy before execution.
Reactions varied across the cells: some wept, some cursed, some prayed incessantly, others remained composed, and a few even burst into laughter. Someone scrawled their will on the back of the questionnaire.
That night, the prison cells smelled like a high-end restaurant, with food carts gliding down the corridors like a train.
Every dish requested on the questionnaire was provided. An officer, half-jokingly, wrote "wild lobster," and a ten-kilogram giant lobster was indeed served. From any angle, this sudden generosity felt like a final supper.
Many stayed awake all night.
The next morning at seven, breakfast arrived again.
Then came lunch and dinner, as lavish as the day before.
This continued for three consecutive days: three abundant meals, with no news. But the mood within the prison began to shift. Many harbored hope, and different speculations emerged.
Finally, the interrogations began.
Military police, holding roll call lists, took away a dozen people at a time to the interrogation rooms.
In the interrogation rooms, suspects were asked to explain the full story and to recount their thoughts and activities during these past few days, both verbally and in writing. The verbal and written accounts often took an entire day.
After the first round of interrogations, there was no news, and soon, a second round commenced.
The second round of interrogations followed the same procedure as the first, verbal and written, lasting a full day.
This was followed by a third, a fourth, and so on, repeating in cycles.
After a month, people had lost count of how many statements they had written and repeated. Some speculated that this repetition was intentional, designed to compare each verbal and written account to determine the truthfulness of each person's narrative and identify any fabricated details. Rumor had it that specialized AI was responsible for reading all the written records, making judgments based on details in the text, phrasing, length, and even subtle clues beneath the handwriting.
By the second month, the situation began to change.
Fu Qiuyan and several high-ranking military officials arrived at the prison to speak with the suspects personally.
Following these discussions, some individuals were released. However, their release came with three possible outcomes: reinstatement to their original positions, reassignment with a demotion, or discharge from military service.
Some were taken to military court, tried, and executed.
Others continued to serve their sentences, but they were given specific prison terms.
Jiang Ye observed Fu Qiuyan's handling of the entire affair. She proved to be relatively merciful; ultimately, only 18 people were executed, 277 were imprisoned, and the remaining 7,991 were released, with half of them remaining in the military.
Fu Qiuyan's niece was sentenced to life imprisonment.
The matter was thus concluded.
...
Winter Solstice.
Jiang Ye returned to Jiang Ye Star to convene the winter conference. A meeting was held every Winter Solstice, essentially a year-end summary, reviewing the past year's achievements, reporting unresolved issues, and outlining general plans for the coming year.
This year had seen numerous significant events and considerable social change, resulting in a longer winter conference than in previous years. Jiang Ye attended from Monday to Saturday.
On Saturday morning, Jiang Ye was home alone, resting.
A heavy snowfall had fallen the previous night, leaving the world outside a pristine white, like a sea of cream. A few black crows shivered outside the window, pressing close to the glass. The weather was frigid, but Jiang Ye's house was warm.
Jiang Ye sat on the windowsill, gazing at the crows up close. The crows on Jiang Ye Star appeared to be an introduced alien species; they were unusually large, each the size of a black cat, weighing perhaps seven or eight pounds.
Despite the close proximity, the crows showed no fear. Instead, they tilted their heads, meeting Jiang Ye's gaze. The area around the general's mansion was sparsely populated, and the guards maintained strict discipline, refraining from shooting birds casually. It was likely these crows had grown accustomed to human presence.
It was said that these birds were very intelligent. Jiang Ye felt a pang of compassion, went to the kitchen for a box of eggs, and opened the window.
He intended to place the egg carton outside, but as soon as he opened the window, several crows hopped in, looking at Jiang Ye.
Jiang Ye scratched his head, feeling that having black birds indoors was perhaps inauspicious, but then decided not to be superstitious and left them be, placing the egg carton on the windowsill.
The crows were well-behaved, gathering around the egg carton, pecking open the eggs and slurping the liquid, eating on the windowsill.
His phone suddenly rang.
Jiang Ye picked up his phone; it was Ju Lanlan.
"Hello?"
"Sir, I've brought the successor to see you. The guards said they need your permission to let us through."
"Alright, hand the phone to the guard."
Jiang Ye spoke a few words and hung up.
He looked out the window. Far in the distance, a black car slowly drove in, gliding over the thick snow as if it were a small icebreaker, finally stopping below the house.
The car door opened, and Ju Lanlan alighted first. Then, a short, small young man jumped out of the car. Both were wearing oversized down jackets, shivering from the cold as they stood at the door and knocked.
Jiang Ye glanced at the crows still eating eggs and unhurriedly rose to go downstairs.