"Brother Feng, when do we set off?" Shen Yunche looked at Lin Feng and said.
"No rush, there is one more thing before we set off." Lin Feng said.
"What are you going to do?" Shen Yunche suddenly asked.
"It's a secret~" Meng Qing kept it a secret.
Lin Feng and Meng Qing got into the car, leaving Shen Yunche at the back to think about what secret it was.
Then he followed.
Thick lead-gray clouds hung low over the capital, not a single ray of sunlight getting through.
On both sides of the road leading to the heavy prison in the suburbs of Beijing, dead branches shivered in the biting cold wind, and the barren fields were covered with a thin layer of dirty residual snow.
The air was filled with a cold and murderous smell mixed with metal and disinfectant.
The car stopped in front of the detention center. Shen Yunche got out and looked at the scene in front of him with some confusion.
"I'm going to meet an old friend, you guys wait." Lin Feng said calmly.
Meng Qing nodded. No matter how stupid Shen Yunche was, he understood who Lin Feng wanted to meet.
The light in the visiting room was pale.
The cold iron railing divides the space into two, and the fine grid on the railing casts criss-crossing shadows on the pale wall opposite.
The air was stagnant, with only the low, monotonous hum of the exhaust system making its rounds.
Lin Feng sat on a cold metal chair, his black coat open, revealing the crisp dark gray suit underneath.
He had no backrest, his back was straight as a pine tree, his hands were casually placed on his knees, and his eyes were calmly staring at the other side of the iron bars.
There was no arrogance of a winner on his face, nor any deliberate compassion, only a deep calm after the dust had settled.
The door lock clicked softly, breaking the silence.
A figure staggered in, escorted by prison guards.
It’s Ye Yuanshan.
It was only one day, but it felt like years.
The hero who once made waves in the capital, with eyes as sharp as an eagle and invisible pressure in his every move, is now gone.
He was wearing a gray-blue prison uniform that was loose and old, like an ill-fitting cloth bag on his obviously thin and hunched body.
The prison uniform has a glaring white number printed on the chest.
The hair that was once carefully groomed and meticulously maintained has now become sparse, dry, and tangled, sticking to the scalp, revealing large areas of loose scalp covered with age spots.
At this moment, that face looked like an old newspaper that was crumpled and barely spread out.
The deep wrinkles were like those carved by knives and axes, crisscrossing and several times deeper than in my memory.
Especially the nasolabial lines between the eyebrows and corners of the mouth, which were almost sunken, engraved with unspeakable fatigue and... resignation.
The bags under his eyes were puffy and sagging, an unhealthy grayish blue.
The eyes that were once bright, full of calculation and desire for control, were now cloudy, covered with a thick layer of dust, and had lost all their brilliance.
His eyes were empty and distracted, falling unfocused on the cold ground.
Occasionally he would raise his eyelids and look at Lin Feng outside the railing, but he would just glance past him very quickly.
With an almost numb sluggishness, it then quickly dropped again, and the light seemed to sting his eyes.
The eyelids drooped loosely, covering most of the eyeball, leaving only a cloudy gap.
His lips were cracked and bloodless, and slightly open. He seemed to want to say something, but no sound came out. He was just trembling slightly and unconsciously.
His hands were heavily handcuffed in front of him, his skinny fingers were curled up, his knuckles were abnormally prominent, and his skin was covered with wrinkles and dark spots.
The hands that had signed the contract could only be folded together helplessly now, revealing a dying aura.
His whole body exuded a thick, indispellable aura of decadence.
The spine that was once straight is now deeply hunched, completely crushed by the invisible burden.
His shoulders slumped and his neck hunched forward, like an empty shell with all the energy drained away.
Every step seemed extremely difficult and slow, with the dragging sound of shackles.
He sat down on the chair opposite Lin Feng, his movements stiff and slow.
After sitting down, he still kept his head down, staring at his handcuffed hands or the cold concrete floor beneath his feet.
His breathing was shallow and short, and the rise and fall of his chest was barely noticeable.
There were no imagined angry roars, no hysterical curses, and no bluffing threats.
There was only dead silence.
After all ambitions, dignity and strength have been completely crushed, only endless, heavy and suffocating resignation remains.
Lin Feng looked at him quietly.
Looking at this opponent who once covered the sky with one hand and forced himself and Feng Qing into a desperate situation, he has now become an old and frail man like a walking corpse.
Those thrilling business wars, those thrilling conspiracies, those life-and-death games...
At this moment, everything is transformed into silent dust inside and outside the iron railings in this dead silence and resignation to fate.
Time passed by minute by minute. The only sounds in the visiting room were the monotonous hum of the exhaust fan and the barely audible breathing of the two people.
Lin Feng didn't say anything.
He came here not for a declaration of victory, nor for cheap forgiveness.
He just wanted to see with his own eyes the end of this long and brutal war.
He wanted to see what Ye Yuanshan really looked like now.
Ye Yuanshan also remained silent.
He seemed completely immersed in his own world, a world with only iron bars and shackles left.
Occasionally, his Adam's apple would roll very slightly and his cracked lips would twitch slightly.
But that slight struggle eventually disappeared into thin air, transforming into only a deeper line at the corner of the mouth, filled with endless bitterness.
In those lines, perhaps there are memories of past glory, resentment about current circumstances, and confusion about what will happen after death.
But more than that, there is a bottomless and utter powerlessness.
He seemed to have lost the strength to express his anger and resentment.
Lin Feng's gaze calmly swept across Ye Yuanshan's withered hair, his sunken eye sockets, and his trembling, handcuffed hands.
How many people have been pushed into the abyss by these hands?
Now, he himself is deeply involved in it.
The visiting time seemed to be stretched to an infinitely long length by the heavy silence, yet it also seemed to pass in a flash.
Finally, the electronic timer on the wall made a short and cold "beep" sound, breaking the frozen air.
Time is up.
Lin Feng stood up slowly.
The metal chair legs rubbed against the concrete floor, making a harsh sound.
The sound seemed to wake up Ye Yuanshan who was immersed in his own world.
Very slowly, like a rusty gear, he raised his head.
For the first time, the turbid eyes finally met Lin Feng's calm gaze completely and without evasion.
There was no hatred, no anger, and no pleading for mercy in that look.
There was only an empty, desert-like silence, and a kind of complete resignation to one's fate, having seen through the final outcome of one's destiny.
He looked at Lin Feng as if he was looking at a stranger who had nothing to do with him, but also as if he was looking at a mirror that reflected his final destination.
His lips trembled again ever so slightly, and this time, there was not even an attempt at making a sound.
All that was left was purely physiological, uncontrollable shaking.
Lin Feng looked at him for a few seconds.
Then, Lin Feng said nothing, but nodded very slightly to Ye Yuanshan.
This nod has no meaning. It is not forgiveness, not ridicule, nor farewell.
It was more like a confirmation - a confirmation of the reality of the scene before his eyes, a confirmation of the end of the struggle.
After nodding, Lin Feng turned around.
The hem of the black coat draws a neat arc.
Without even a glance back, he walked towards the closed iron door of the visiting room with steady steps.
The prison guard stepped forward and prepared to take Ye Yuanshan away.
Ye Yuanshan suddenly spoke, his voice a little hoarse: "Lin Yun she..."
"Don't worry, she's fine." Lin Feng didn't stop and continued walking forward.
Ye Yuanshan still maintained that raised head posture.
His turbid eyes followed Lin Feng's departing back empty-handedly.
Until the figure disappeared behind the heavy iron door.
The heavy sound of the iron door closing was like the hammer of the Last Judgment, striking heavily on his heart.
The last glimmer of light in his eyes was completely extinguished.
His head seemed to have lost all support and dropped heavily, with his chin almost touching the cold shackles on his chest.
His whole body was curled up in the loose prison uniform, motionless.
Does he regret it? Maybe, he doesn't know.
Does he regret it? Probably, but he doesn't know.
What would have happened if I had won over Lin Feng at the beginning.
What would have happened if I had stood next to Lin Feng at the beginning.
What would have happened if I hadn't gone against Lin Feng in the first place?
If he had been a little more ruthless back then, he might be the one standing outside now.
Unfortunately, there is no if, and nothing can be turned back.
Now he is no longer that Ye Yuanshan, but just a middle-aged man over fifty years old.
Outside the door was the capital's leaden gray sky and biting cold wind.
Inside the door, there was endless silence and a finale of complete resignation to fate.
A war without the smoke of gunpowder finally came to its final cold end in this silent visit.
......
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