Chinese Women in Prison: 糯美子

TRUE CRIME DOCUMENTARY

Currently, all online accounts of hers that you find are made by impostors.

The real name of 糯美子 is 黄佳丽.

In August of 2021, she has been sentenced to one year in prison for disseminating lewd photos and pornographic videos of herself by the Chinese Criminal Court.

Prior to her arrest, she had been active in numerous gigs for the entertainment industry. In 2019, she participated in the TV show “Chinese Style Dating” (中国式相亲) and introduced herself as an “independent, modern Chinese woman-entrepreneur living in Shanghai looking for true love with a western gentleman”.

Being described by fans as having “baby face and big breasts”, she quickly gathered over a million followers online. Through the use of Chinese dating apps and other social media channels, she started to charge money for fans who wanted to see more explicit photos and videos of her that included full nudity and masturbation. Pornography is illegal in China.

Excerpts from the Chinese Female Prisoner Narrative

Forced labor and abuse are rampant in Chinese prison systems. Officially, prisoners are not allowed to participate in forced labor. And of course, corporal punishments of prisoners are forbidden as well. In practice, the exact opposite happens. Female prisoners are required to get up at 5 AM in the morning, and start to work at 6 AM. Work consists mostly of low-tier manufacturing of clothing such as sewing, needle-work, etc. Except for half an hour for lunch and half an hour for dinner, prisoners are required to work nonstop until 10 PM. Sometimes prisoners are required to work overnight and are forbidden to sleep. Attempted suicides are very common. However, actual suicides rarely happen. Every guard keeps watch over 40 prisoners. Every four prisoners are grouped together as one unit. If one prisoner commit suicide, the other three prisoners will be subject to the same punishment: denial of food for three days, an arbitrary increase in length of sentence, and corporal punishment. The prison guard will be punished as well, such as decrease in salary and benefits, demotion in ranking, verbal abuse and beatings from superiors. The prison guards who are punished by their superiors will take out their frustration on the prisoners. Female prisoners who are young and beautiful are especially likely to be targeted by prison guards for abuse.

During official visits from higher-ups in the government, prison guards are told ahead of time and will hide the work activities that those prisoners do. One official, who is completely unaware of the true situations, once commented, upon seeing prisoners watching TV and reading books, that “Our penal system is so good those prisoners are living better lives than most people outside.”

The most feared punishment, according to Chinese female prisoner narrative, is actually solitary confinement. “Just 72 hours in solitary confinement can feel like it’s been years, and you will start to lose your mind. I can’t imagine those political prisoners who have been confined for an entire year.”

“In the kind of environment that we are in, it’s normal to want to be feel intimacy. Most prisoners are not lesbians at all, but due to loneliness, many of us are forced to become lesbians. … The worst people are those who are not lesbian but out of hatred and despair of life make sadistic entertainment of their fellow prisoners. A beautiful woman here is like a lamb being fed to the wolves. Dozens of prisoners would take turns forcing her to perform cunnilingus and if she refuse they would beat her until she complies. The prison guards are supposed to stop such abuse, but they actually don’t care, because there are too many such cases and it’s impossible to put a stop to all of it. In the words of one guard, ‘it’s not like they are going to make a baby out of it.'”

sources and references:

https://www.zhihu.com/question/419524989

https://zhuanlan.zhihu.com/p/485089095

The Complete Version of Chinese Female Prisoner Narrative

我不知道现在的社会变成了什么样子,因为我在监狱里待了整整5年。

我毕业于国内一所一流的大学,毕业后去国外镀过金,2000年以前我在一家证券公司工作。我曾有过很骄人的成绩,有过让同龄人羡慕的地位,可是“一失足成千古恨”,因经济犯罪我锒铛入狱。
我并不是想在这里忏悔,我经过了炼狱的洗礼,历经了常人无法想象的苦痛,我已经为我曾经犯下的错付出了代价,我赎了我的罪。

我之所以想到写这些是因为许多人不了解监狱是个什么地方。在大部分人眼里,坐牢的人肯定都是十恶不赦,都是不可原谅,都是坏到极点的人,其实不然;央视曾播过一个电视连续剧《女子监狱》,我相信大部分不了解坐牢为何物的人都是通过这个电视剧来了解监狱,来了解吃官司的犯人。然而,真相真是这样吗?现在没钱的人、吃不饱饭的人、没地儿睡觉的人大把,我想如果真是这样,监狱门口可能会排起长队。

里面的犯人有的判的轻,一年两年就出狱了,有的判的重,一待就是十几年,和我一个大队的一个女犯从刑拘开始到我出狱在里面待了整整11年,她是94年刑拘的,经过刑事调查、刑事诉讼等等一系列过程,法院判决下来的时候她已经在拘留所度过了6个春秋,她是个经济犯,法院判了她死缓,到了女子监狱2年摘了死缓的帽子,改判无期,然后开始争取减刑,又2年才再一次摘帽,改判有期徒刑18年。这中间七搞八弄的已经过去了11年了,到我出狱的时候她刚减了一次刑,是1年半,也就是说她还有十几年的时光要在里面度过。她进去的时候只有30几岁,可等到她出狱,情况好的话那也是快60岁的人了。

我在里面的时候一直都有记日记的,遗憾的是出狱之前被我撕毁了,因为监狱有这样的管理规定,任何刑释人员带出监狱的文字手稿都要经过严格的检查,凡有涉及监狱的东西通通没收。我在写那些日记的时候就知道这样的规定,也很清楚这是不可能带出去的,可我依然每天写,我只有借助于文字的宣泄才能让我忘掉肉体的苦累和精神的痛苦。

我在那里待了5年,这期间我吃了很多的苦,但也学到了许多东西。里面是个什么样子?里面的人是怎样生活的?她们都做些什么?监狱是怎样管理犯人的?那些狱警是否都想香港的影视剧中的霸王花一样飒爽英姿?我想这些问题对于没进过监狱的人来说就像是个迷一样,里面同样有着许多的故事。

我发这张帖子的目的只是是想让外面的人了解监狱、了解在监狱里生活的那些人。在里面,狱警是管理犯人的人,而犯人是接受惩罚和改造的人。在这样两个互相对立的群体中,最大的争议就是中国现在的监管体制、监管制度以及监管干警的本身素质是否能把一个犯过罪的人改造好。
里面有一些人犯罪的确是性质恶劣,动机故意,但也有很多却是因为不懂法或是一时冲动而造成的后果。里面的犯人都说监狱是个坏人进来会更坏,好人进来会变坏的地方,连一些干警在和犯人谈心的时候也不得不承认这个现实。

所有的犯罪嫌疑人一经法院的判决后就成了名副其实的犯人,这些判好刑的人在看守所叫“已决犯”,她们是不能和没有判刑的犯罪嫌疑人关在一间号子的,看守所每月的5号送一批“已决犯”去监狱。所以每月的5号就是监狱的进“新收”日。监狱有5个大队,每个大队分两到三个中队不等,其中的2大队1中队是监狱里的“新收”中队,所有的新进犯人都要到这个中队接受三个月的“新收”教育和“新收”训练。其实教育和训练的时间绝不会有三个月,因为犯人是要接受劳动改造的。每一个“新收”按照老的犯人的60%完成生产指标。监狱里的生产是很杂乱的,有专门管生产的干警在外面接活儿,当然大部分是没什么技术含量的手工活。我刚进去的时候干的活是打毛衣。现在的女孩子会打毛衣的可谓是寥寥无几,特别是像我这样受过高等教育,在外面时工作条件比较好的人,一开始学时手像脚一样笨。可是里面的制度特别的严格,完不成指标的人通宵达旦地做。当时除了“新收”每人两天完成一件毛衣以外,其他的老犯人的指标是每人每天一件毛衣。我们这些刚进监狱的“新收”简直就不敢相信世界上竟然有打毛衣打的那么快的人,然而,三个月以后,所有的“新收”都能达到这个水平了(除了50岁以上的犯人和残疾犯人,它们的指标没这么高)。

监狱夏令时是每天5:00起床,冬令时则6:00起床。起床后必须先叠好被子,这叠被子也是经过“新收”训练的,就像是部队里一样。然后坐在凳子上等待干警来“开封”,也就是开监室的门。然后是每一个监室的人出去洗漱,上厕所,再回到监室吃早饭。这所有的事情必须在1个小时之内完成。1小时以后就是全体排队出工了。

监狱里的犯人干的活很杂,有手工活,也有机器活。手工活大部分是打毛衣、钉扣子、绣花、做纸袋、折信封之类的,机器活就是踩缝纫机了。做手工的时候基本都是在监室里,12个人一间,6张上下两层的铁床分摆两边,每人一张凳子放在床前,除此之外中间只剩下很窄的一条通道。在监室干活是很苦的,房间小,又没有桌子,所有做好没做好的活只能放在床上,睡下铺的人床上总是堆满了东西,因为这样,所以吵架打架的事情经常会发生。中餐晚餐的时间只有30分钟,每个监室有一个室长,到了开饭时间,首先由室长到走廊去把12个人的饭菜打进来,都是用铅桶装的,然后再分给每个人。没有桌子,只能在床上吃,不许用筷子,只能用调羹。爱干净的人会在床上铺张报纸,大部分人不讲究这些,因为指标太重,活干不完晚上没得觉睡,连吃饭都觉得是浪费时间,每一口饭都是囫囵吞下去的,一放下饭碗立马干活。所以大凡吃过官司的人吃饭的速度都是相当的快,我出狱以后一直都很难改掉这个习惯,似乎已经不会细嚼慢咽地品尝菜肴的美味了,在里面吃饭仅仅是为了不让自己饿死,至于其它一概都顾不上了。

打毛衣这样的活要说起来是最苦的,因为不需要工具。里面所指的工具是针和剪刀之类的铁器,毛衣针是竹子做的所以不算在内。监狱里对于工具的管理是相当严格的,所有“新收”一进监狱就受到过这样的教育:工具就是你的生命,人在工具必须在,人不在工具也要在。刚开始很不明白为什么会对工具这么紧张,后来看的多了才知道。里面有许多人无法承受身体体力的高度透支,更重要的是精神上的巨大压力,从而会想到自杀自残。自杀自残是监狱里的头等重大事件,如果有这样的事情,上至监狱领导、大队中队干警,下至大队所有的犯人都要受到很严重的处理。在我服刑期间只有一个女犯自杀成功了,结果她所在的大队大队长、中队长、小队长通通调离,整个大队当年的“改造积极分子”指标减半,自杀女犯所在的中队每一个犯人当年的争取都做废。要知道,犯人在里面拼死拼活地干无非是希望能争取到减刑,而因为别人的事情使的自己一年的努力化为泡影,这是一件多么让人痛心的事 儿。故此,犯人之间也有一个制度就是互相监督,说实话,想自杀也不是一件容易的事情,但自杀事件依然屡屡发生,只不过难以成功罢了。如果有工具的活,晚上值班队长是要来收工具的,至于几点收要看活儿的数量还有值班干警的心情。但打毛衣这样的活就没人管了,打到几点都行。晚上睡觉是不许关灯的,所以我们经常是通宵地做。即使当天的指标完成了,也希望能多做一点,只有产量超过别人才有可能争取减刑。

我在入监后的第二年调到了一个新的大队,是踩缝纫机的活。我们做过绵质内衣、床上用品、服装鞋帽,而且还有国内名牌内衣呢。机器活是必须在工厂间干的,7点出工以后,不到12点以后是不可能回监室的。收工回来洗洗涮涮都要2个小时,因为所有的活动都是集体行动,要排队,要报数,要一个一个监室轮流,这样七搞八搞差不多2点多也有可能3点才能上床睡觉。
在工厂间干活一点都不能偷懒的,因为是流水线加工,你的这道工序没做完,下面那道工序的人就要骂人,你耽误了别人的时间。“时间就是金钱”这句话在这里得到的体现是最充分的,只不过我们换了一种说法“时间就是产量”。

说到这里,我想提醒大家,以后买回来的内衣裤、床单被套之类的东西一定要水洗以后才能用哦,即使是在专卖店买的也是一样。我们在工厂间干活时为了节省时间,辅料、半成品、成品都是一堆一堆地堆在地上,车工坐在车位上不能走动,由辅工将成堆的东西在地上拖来拖去,做好的成品直接打好包装,贴上厂家标签就OK了。我们虽然觉得过意不去,可也没办法,我想男监或是别的监狱肯定也是一样吧。

监狱里的干警也有男的,比较少数,但他们是不可以进入监区的,也不直接和犯人接触,也有纪委的或是教育科的男干警需要找犯人谈话,这种时候都要由犯人的主管干警带着去的,会有专门的谈话室,男干警是不可能进入女犯的生活区的。

有些监狱的管理也还是比较文明的,我在大城市吃官司,所以要好一些。听里面一些累掼犯说起小地方的监狱才觉得更可怕,起码我待的这个监狱没有干警打犯人的现象,同犯之间的打架也不是很多。像香港电影里演的那样的牢头狱霸也是没有的。当然犯人欺负犯人的事情那是屡见不鲜,只是没那么猖狂。

监狱里面干警并不是很多,一个小队长一般要带30-40几个犯人,这就叫“主管干警”,她会在她所带的犯人里面挑选有能力的犯人来担任一些职务,这些犯人统称为“四犯”,“四犯”分四种:管纪律的、管生产的、管生活的、管学习的。里面的犯人也同样分很多等级。一般来说,经济犯是最高等级的了,但经济犯不是很多,“四犯”的职务大部分是由经济犯来担任的。但管劳动的“四犯”就很少由经济犯担任了,我想这或许是经济犯的动手能力不是很强的缘故吧,管劳动的四犯基本都是由盗窃犯来担任的。我在一中队做室长的时候,曾经有一个“新收”,是财大毕业的,她分在我的监室,因为她是读书人,我不免有了一些惺惺相惜的同情,很是照顾她。然而,在监狱里最叫的响的就是干活,我们叫“劳役”,无论我怎么手把手地教她,她都是全监室甚至全小组劳役最慢的一个,当天的指标只要有一个人没完成,全房间的人都不能睡,因为第二天一开封生产四犯就要来收活。她天天拖大家的后退,可别人看在我这个室长对她很好的份上敢怒又不敢言,最后有一天晚上已经3点钟了,大家还在帮她干活,有几个暴力犯嘴里一直不干不净地骂人,她可能是实在受不了了,当天晚上我们睡下后,她用一根磨过的牙刷柄割了脉。幸好也许是她没有太多的时间把牙刷磨的更锋利一点,又或许是她下手的时候感到太痛而没有割的太深,她没死成。我后来问她为什么要这样做,她麻木地说这样活着比死难受一百倍。

我自己刚进去的时候也曾多次地想到过自杀,甚至和她一样做过准备。可我只要接到妈妈爸爸的来信,我就再也没有这样的勇气下手了。如果我是一个没有思想的人也许在里面的日子会好过一些。每天机械地干活,什么也不用去想。里面吃饭有室长去领,然后分到每个人手上,吃完饭有专门的犯人洗碗,每星期洗一次澡只有15分钟(包括排队、脱衣服、洗完穿衣服的时间),囚衣也有专门的犯人清洗,一切都有人替你安排好,只需要按照规定的要求去做就是了。

我也想像那些没有文化的犯人一样劳役、吃饭、睡觉,可是我却无发遏止自己的思想。我想家,想亲人,想朋友,想吃一顿好的,也想能好好睡上一觉。。。。。。偶尔有没活干的时候,大家总是会站在监室的铁窗前,望向外面的天空。我们不喜欢天气晴朗风和日丽的日子,这总是会更加显现我们的悲惨。这样的好天气我们却不能去享受阳光的沐浴,被困在这样一间小小的房间里或是见不但阳光的工厂间里。在这种时候我们更加觉得自己的生命毫无意义。

在里面我们所干的活都是有主的,也就是说是厂家指定的。每个大队监狱都有全年的劳役指标,要完成指标需要两方面的努力,一是干警要接得到活,一是犯人要能完成。如果没有接到活或是接的活不多,我们也会有劳役断挡的时候,这就是我们最开心的日子了。虽然不干活也要参加法律学习啊,搞点活动啊,或是开个会啊什么的,但毕竟晚上没事了,可以好好睡个觉了。

分数就是犯人的生命,在里面所承受的一切劳累、痛苦、委屈、侮辱在一个高分儿面前都会被我们认为是值得的。因为到年终的时候,只有拿满120分的犯人才有资格被上报法院减刑。在那样的日子里最渴望期盼的就是自由,只要有一条小小的路能让我们早一天拥抱自由,即使是累死苦死也不会有人说不愿意的。为了这早一天,我们把自己变成了机器,为了这早一天,我们可以放弃做人的尊严,一切就是为了早一天见到自己的亲人,早一天呼吸自由的空气。

说来真是悲哀。我们都是成年人了,在外面听谁说过想吃这个要吃那个的?我以前自由的时候因为是单身,年轻又拿着高薪,下了班就和一帮同事朋友们在外面吃饭,真是没什么没吃过的。可是进了监狱以后才真正感觉到吃对一个人的诱惑实在是太大了。那种对吃的东西的渴望也是我这一生都不会忘记的体验。

监狱的伙食凭良心说还是不错的,比看守所的好多了,我们都说是因为监狱要劳动的缘故。看守所的伙食简直就不是人吃的东西,每天不是大白菜煮自来水,就是白豆腐加点辣,一星期有一顿荤那根本没法吃,就是一快大肥肉。那个肥呀,还没吃就让人想吐。我在看守所近1年都是吃的泡面,弄到现在回来后谁在我面前提泡面我就跟谁急。

监狱的伙食每顿是一个菜,星期天会加一个菜,一般都是素菜里面加点肉丝,如果是大白菜之类的全素菜,还会有一个汤,也就是西红柿或是青菜加点蛋花花。但是菜的品种就是那么几样,再加是大锅菜,味道是不怎么敢恭维的。别说是这样的菜了,就是山珍海味让你吃个几年,十几年的还不是和糟糠差不多味儿了。真不怕你们笑话,能美美地吃一顿好东西也成了我们朝思暮想的心愿。好在监狱的管理在近一两年也开始走向人性化。平时大家吃的都是大锅饭,有的朋友说的有钱可以吃小炒在我们监狱是绝不可能的,有也是在梦里吃,那也就不存在有没钱的问题了。不过,如果犯人的处遇达到了A级的就可以在每个星期六吃A级菜,B级的则是两个星期一次。A、B级菜都是干警到外面店里买的,品种也不断地翻新,有时是半只烧鸡,有时是半个蹄膀,有时还会有汉堡啊、虾啊、真空包装的猪肉什么的。犯人吃饭是不要钱的,可这个A、B级菜却是要钱的。所以有很多劳役做的很好,表现特突出的A、B级犯人因为家里穷大帐上没钱而白白浪费了“配额”。

监狱里有一个小超市,犯人每月去一次买东西。现金在监狱是不流通的。每个犯人入监时都会有一张大帐卡,从看守所转到监狱来时有现金的全部打到这张卡上,家里人每月来接见时送的钱也打到这张卡上。有些朋友说有钱吃官司就不会吃苦了,什么都可以买,这肯定是误传。在一些偏远的城市的监狱好象是有这样的现象。

去超市每人能买多少东西是由各自的处遇来决定的。日常用品是不限制金额的,只有食品有限制。A级的可以买100元,B级买80元,C级买60元,D级和E级买50元。每月一次的接见,探监者也是按照同样的规定给探望的对象买食品。所以如果是A 级,并且每个月都有人来接见的话,那她就可以有200元的食品了。只是,每个大队能享受A、B级待遇的人只有几个,有条件的人也舍不得乱花钱,毕竟这钱都是父母家人的钱,何况里面家庭条件好的并不多,表现好的家里穷的叮当响,家里有钱的又不一定能争取到A、B级,所以浪费“配额”的事情比比皆是。

超市里的东西都贵的要命,而且很多假冒伪劣产品。犯人买也得买,不买也得买,只此一家,没有分店。食品泡面具多,也有一些真空食品,可都太贵,即使很想买,也买不起,大部分人只能买五十、六十元,一包真空包装的东西就要十几块甚至二十几块,买了这个其它的就甭买了。犯人去超市每月必买的食品是泡面(最少十包,多的买一箱)、榨菜、火腿肠,因为监狱只有三顿饭,而且晚饭时间是五点,到晚上肚子是一定会饿的,干活又晚,没有泡面就完蛋了。这几样东西买好了,也剩不了几个钱了,再想吃的东西也只能是过过眼瘾罢了。

因为吃的问题也闹出过许多事儿,因为如牙刷、牙膏、卫生纸等等生活必须品是不限制金额的,所以许多家里条件好,大帐上有钱,可又没有达到A级的犯人就和那些A级却没钱买的人商量,用生活用品换食品。我们每人去超市后买东西的超市发票都要上交给干警检查,后面这样做的人越来越多,干警发现有的犯人每个月竟然要买10支牙膏、20多包草纸,加上犯人去打小报告,这事情有一天就露馅儿了,然后是好一通大调查,最后凡是参与过的人全部受到了惩罚:扣分并且停掉一个月的超市,这意味着整整一个月将没有东西吃。虽然处罚的这么严厉,依然有犯人敢冒天下之大不渭,反正抓住了我倒霉,抓不住我胜算。说来说去,都是要吃惹的祸。
监狱里长期服刑的女犯人平时吃、住和做工,都是与女犯人在一起,管理她们的警官也是女的。她们长期根本没有与异性接触的机会,因此性欲产生率很低。她们由于是集体住宿,手淫也不方便。所以,她们一般是尽可能克制,万一克制不了的时候,只有偷偷的在被子里面或其他方便的情况下解决一下。

监狱是个很特殊的地方,同时也是个很能锻炼人的场所。我在外面的时候很难想象我能在这样的环境里生存下来。没有吃没有睡这仅仅只是一个方面。里面的犯人犯什么罪的都有,涉毒犯再次入狱的很多,和我同一批入狱的一个女孩,因贩毒判了一年六个月,出去后一个星期就听干警说又因为盗窃进了看守所,没多久,就来到了女子监狱,这回判了两年。上一次我们同是“新收”,可这一次我却是她的室长了。我问过她这种地方这么苦,来一次就等于是在地狱走了一遭,为什么还要来呢?她回答我说,我有什么办法,把我放出去了,可不给我找工作,不给我钱,我家里人早不要我了,我不去偷难道去死吗?她说这话的时候神情很平静,看着我的眼光冷冰冰的,似乎没有一点因为再次入狱而表现的痛苦,又仿佛在说,这还用问吗,笨蛋!

还有一个犯人仅仅就是因为替朋友打了一个电话就判了6年。她的一个好朋友A让她给另一个朋友B打个电话,把B约到一个什么地点,然后她就回去了。没想到的是B得罪了A,约B出来是要找他算帐的,A捅了B一刀,B死了。我的这个同犯也就这样稀里糊涂地判了刑。

像这样莫名其妙的案例真的在里面有很多。我在一大队时接触过一个北京师大毕业的犯人,她的案子更加让我为她可惜。她爱上了一个有妇之夫,这个男人风流倜傥,一表人才,把这个女孩儿弄的五迷三道,七晕八素,男人骗这个女孩说他老婆摘除子宫都2年了,信誓旦旦说要跟老婆离婚,娶女孩为妻,在一起一年多就陆陆续续在这个女孩这儿借了二十几万,一张借条都没有。女孩还在做着春秋大美梦呢,这男人竟然一声不响带着老婆到上海来定居了。女孩通过朋友找到了男人在上海的住处,在他们家门口亲眼看到人家两夫妻亲亲热热,他老婆又白又胖滋润的不行,什么摘除子宫一说纯属骗人,说他老婆有两个子宫都有人信,女孩实在是气难平,从北京叫了几个好朋友到上海找到这个男人要他还钱,男人一来理亏,二来几个高头大马的北方汉子让他感到好汉不能吃眼前亏,于是答应给钱,先写一张欠条,拿个整数30万。写完欠条后男人一出门就报了警,然后第二天打电话给女孩说钱准备好了,你来拿吧。女孩带着朋友到了接头地点,钱的影子还没看到,一大帮警察荷枪实弹在等着他们呢,敲诈勒索抓了现行,数额巨大,主犯(就这女孩)判了8年,他那些朋友判了6年。女孩在法庭上当场晕了过去。到了监狱闹了几次自杀,是大队的重控对象,上厕所都有犯人跟着,晚上睡觉两个犯人轮流值班看着她。这样的人吃了官司你能说她是个十恶不赦的坏人吗?有一些人的官司吃的真是有点冤枉。站在法律的角度也许不能这么说,可人非草木,孰能无情!每每看到这样的犯人心里总会有莫名的疼痛。经济犯刚入监时相对来说要表现的清高一点,然而,在里面时间久了,就再无清高可言了。正如有些朋友所说,大帐上有钱的、家里有路子的,在里面的日子会好过一点,那些外地的,家里很穷,有的几年都没人来接见的人不但犯人会欺负,连干警也不会正眼瞧你。其实,人活着生存的条件好与不好只是一个方面,何况在里面每个人都大同小异,关键是能否得到别人的尊重。我说的别人既有同犯也有干警。我在里面最痛苦的体会就是监狱是个和尊重绝缘的地方。

有一些人的官司吃的真是有点冤枉。站在法律的角度也许不能这么说,可人非草木,孰能无情!每每看到这样的犯人心里总会有莫名的疼痛。经济犯刚入监时相对来说要表现的清高一点,然而,在里面时间久了,就再无清高可言了。正如有些朋友所说,大帐上有钱的、家里有路子的,在里面的日子会好过一点,那些外地的,家里很穷,有的几年都没人来接见的人不但犯人会欺负,连干警也不会正眼瞧你。其实,人活着生存的条件好与不好只是一个方面,何况在里面每个人都大同小异,关键是能否得到别人的尊重。我说的别人既有同犯也有干警。我在里面最痛苦的体会就是监狱是个和尊重绝缘的地方。

我们监狱的干警有许多都是警校毕业以后分配来的,也有一些是以前考公务员进来工作的,后者基本的素质都不高,警校毕业的这些学生分到监狱,实习一段时间以后就开始做小队长,也就是主管干警。说实在的,从更高的层次来讲,监狱不应该仅仅是监狱,它应该更像一所学校,而狱警也不仅仅就是pol.ice,还应该是个老师。改造犯人的工作是很艰巨的,撇开那些从本质上来讲不是很坏的犯人不说,本质恶劣、素质低下、品行不端、无可救药的犯人依然是占大多数,对这类人的改造教育岂是一个小工程。这些年轻的干警本身就涉世不深,文化程度也不是很高,抱着满腔的热情走上工作岗位,却整天面对的是一群灰头土脸的犯人,每天处理的事情就是谁今天多上了一次厕所,谁今天和谁吵了一架这样的鸡毛蒜皮的琐事,何况面对一些老犯人的阴险狡诈,年轻的干警根本自个儿也分不清楚谁是谁非,逐渐地她们开始灰心,开始失望。她们上班的纪律同样是非常的严格,不许烫发,不许化妆,不许留指甲,不许吃零食,不许把手机带进监区等等,只要是自己带的犯人出了事她们都要吃不了兜着走,轻的挨批评,重的要扣钱,自己带的小组产量不能比别的小组低,搞活动时自己小组的犯人不能比其它的小组差,干警之间也是勾心斗角的。而且在监区所有的同事都是女的,俗话说“三个女人一台戏”,做狱警的大都很八卦,她们和犯人一样上班时间等于是坐牢,在监区里哪也不能去,就看着这些犯人。有一个带过我的干警曾经很感慨地对我说,你们都是有期徒刑,可我们却是无期徒刑啊!当我对监狱的改造环境彻底失望之后,我是能够体会到她内心那份深深的失落的。

并不是说全部的干警都不好,但大部分干警从骨子里就是看不起犯人的。我先后遭遇过好几个干警,曾经有一个挺大年纪的,和家庭妇女还真没两样。女人所有的坏毛病她都有,自私、狭隘、没文化、没素质,只要犯人能干出活来,她就笑咪咪的,谁要是活做不出,就会被骂的抬不起头来,实在是监狱有规定不许打犯人,不然她真很不得把这犯人给打死。最可气的是她特别看不起知识分子,只要你是读过书的就想着法子要羞辱你。她第一次找我谈话,把我叫到干警办公室,我因为个子很高,所以站在她面前比她高了一个头,她竟然凶巴巴地对我说,你妈怎么把你生那么高的,去,拿个矮凳子坐着。我早就听其他的犯人说过她不好惹,却没想到她还这么不讲理。在面对干警时规定她没让你说话,犯人是不能开口的,要干警同意才能开口讲话。我默默地出去拿了一个小凳子坐在她面前。我没讲话,但我看着她的眼神一定是让她感到了我的愤怒,她冲着我说,看什么看?眼睛看地下,读过大学有什么了不起,还不是一样吃官司,在外面不管你有多不得了,现在你就是个犯人,就得听我的,明白吗?我感觉到有一股热气从体内直冲头顶,我没有按照惯例先请示“警官,我可以讲话吗?”而是冲口而出,我没认为我读过大学有什么了不起,我都已经忘记自己读过大学这件事儿了,是你在提醒我,难道我读过大学也有罪吗?就为了这几句话,她以顶撞干警为由罚我在走廊从下午站到收封睡觉。罚站的时候,我感觉到有一阵一阵的泪往眼睛里面冲,可我强忍住了。判决下来以后我在看守所大哭了一场,事后我告戒自己无论发生什么,宁愿去死也绝不让人看到我的眼泪。晚上躺在床上,我还是默默地哭了,肿了的腿让我移动一下身体都觉得疼,可是我不是为这疼而哭的,我觉得自己的心被掏空了。我一直以为在看守所所经历的一切已经让我有足够的毅力去面对一切,这一刻我才知道原来我并没有想象中那么坚强。

犯人在干警的眼里可以说是没有任何尊严的,即使有少数干警从素质上来说并不低,但她也不可能会去尊重一个犯人。监狱的许多规定本身就是对犯人人格的一种侮辱。天气进入盛夏以后,每周一次的洗澡显然是不切实际的,干活干了一天,衣服都被汗湿过多次了,所以从7月份开始就每天可以洗澡了,时间是每天的下午2点左右开始,因为干警是4点下班,在干警下班前必须一个中队的犯人都洗完澡。可想而知,这样一个澡到了晚上睡觉前等于是没洗。天冷的时候每周一次的洗澡都是要排着队到监狱的浴室去洗的,夏天每天一次就不可能去浴室了,因为到浴室去要干警带队,又是排队又是报数,一次只能带一个小组,如果每天这样,干警会累死。所以天热浴室是不开的,犯人就在洗漱室洗澡。每个监区的洗漱室就在监室门口,一大帮赤身裸体的女人就在众目睽睽之下洗澡,而且干警就站在前面看着。第一次我无论如何都没办法适应,洗澡的时间是有规定的,犯人们为了能让自己的身体停留在水下的时间多一点,都是像抢一样地脱衣服。可我却怎么都没办法在这么多干警面前脱,我的一个同犯看我楞在那儿,走过来一把把我的裤子扯了下来,拉我到水龙头底下,她说,快洗吧,你再不洗就没时间洗了,你们这些知识分子都是这样,反正都是女人,有什么难为情的嘛。冰凉的自来水冲在我的身体上,可我却感到了脸上的滚烫。

我现在非常相信人的适应潜能是无限的,现在随便把我丢到一个什么鬼地方,我想我都不会死掉。自此以后我也和我的同犯们一样每次抢着赶紧脱衣服,再也不管有多少干警在看着了,我明白了如果要顾及自尊心,结果就是现实的损失——没澡洗。在外面的人看来极小极小的一点犯人的利益都可以让我们奋不顾身。

在监狱里任何时候任何地点任何事情都不可能单独行动的,一切都要严格按照监规来做。监室里是没有厕所的,厕所在走廊的尽头。犯人如果在监室干活,只能上痰盂。每人一个痰盂放在床下,每人一个放食品的箱子也是放在床下,我们要吃到嘴里的食品就这样和痰盂放在了一起。倒痰盂的时间一天三次,如果是在工厂间干活,是有厕所的,可厕所是锁上的,到时间才开。只要是人都知道对于大小便这样的事儿,不是自己可以凭意志来控制的,可监狱这个鬼地方竟然就会滑稽到规定你在什么时间上厕所,不管你有没有你都得上。不在规定时间内如果尿急那可真是要烦死人,要先报告室长、室长再去报告四犯、四犯再去报告干警,干警批准了还要有两人陪同,所有行动至少必须要有三个人一起。大伙儿全都闷着头在干劳役,你突然要上厕所了,室长、四犯也不愿意浪费自己的时间替你去报告啊,即使她们同意去了还要求别人放下手里的活陪你去,好不容易干警开了门,尿也折腾的没了。美容杂志上说女人每天要喝8杯水,可我们这些女人为了减少上厕所的时间却是尽量少喝水,喝的越少越好。

从司法部提出“人性化”管理之后,犯人的服刑待遇有了一些改善。监狱局规定犯人的劳役时间不能过长,晚上到了8点必须收工具,要让犯人收看电视新闻,每周要组织几次活动,犯人的伙食标准要提高等等。。。。。。犯人们一开始听到这样的政策真是高兴死了!其它的都无所谓,仅仅是晚上8点以后不能干活就足以让人兴奋不已了。因为劳役时间的缩短,劳役指标也就应该相应地减少,然而事实并非如此。大队干警说颁布这样的规定是要提高犯人在有效工作时间内的工作效率,时间缩短了,并不代表工作量的减少。这不是在开玩笑吗?本来16个小时才能干完的活现在要求在10个小时之内干完,单位时间内的工作量一下子就增大了,这样一来手脚快的人还有可能完成,手脚慢的自然是完不成了。怎么办呢?加班。8点钟从工厂间回来,这就算下班了,可回到监室里又发一大堆手工活给你做,真是让人哭笑不得。监狱的领导是要轮流值班的,如果今天是监狱长值班,那回到监室就不会再让干活了,每个人都坐在凳子上看电视,一大帮干警们小心翼翼地陪着监狱长一层楼一层楼地巡视过来,有时还会叫个犯人过来问话,你们现在劳动时间缩短了高不高兴啊?干警事先都和犯人打过招呼的,什么人来问什么话必须怎么回答,而且被叫起来的犯人肯定都是文盲犯。当然高兴。你们每天都看电视节目吗?啊,看的看的。你们有没有感觉到现在的改造政策比以前好啊?是,是比以前好,

我听着这样的对话心里真是觉得悲哀,监狱号称是改造犯人的地方,可是这些身穿制服的人却当着犯人的面弄虚作假,她们道貌岸然地站在旁边听着这样的对话难道不会脸红吗?
遇上有其他单位的人来参观,外面会马上通知监区,干警们迅速通知下来,把犯人带回监室,一个个坐的端端正正的看书的看书,看电视的看电视,参观的总是发出这样的感慨:哎呀,现在的犯人待遇可真好啊?我心想,那你进来试试。也有一些人写监狱长信箱,可该是怎样依然还是怎样。监狱长真的不知道吗?我看未必。

自从监狱有了晚上8点以后不能干活的规定,不但没有让人感到轻松,反而更加紧张了。8点以后的时间很多人没干完的活怎么办?继续干呗,可监狱真是要做婊 子又要立牌坊,又下了一道新规定,8点以后干活的犯人抓住了就扣分。弄到我们搞不清楚干还是不干。可笑的是经常发生这样的场景:8点过后,犯人继续干活,值班干警替犯人望风,如果监狱值班干警来巡视,还没进门冈,我们的干警就迅速跑进来通知,快把劳役收起来,坐好看电视!我们手忙脚乱地把手里的活塞到床底下,一本正经地坐着看电视,等监狱干警一走,警报解除,继续吧!

有一年春节,干警休息7天,犯人休息三天,初一到初三。年三十这天干警下班前,小组组长发了一大堆手工活下来,并且宣布:队长说了,监狱规定春节期间不许干活,抓住了要扣分。但是,我们队长初四值班,她8点上班之前我们要把做好的活放在办公室,她要检查。许多人当时都反应不过来,这是什么鬼通知,!我一气之下站起来就要去办公室,我的同犯拉住了我,说,你又何必呢?这种地方什么怪事儿没有?多一事不如少一事,别人能过我们也能过。

弄虚作假在监狱里面已是见怪不怪了。组织犯人上课学习也是不得已而为之。监狱办了一个扫盲班,为了完成学习指标,强迫那些文盲犯去上课,我开始还弄不明白,这不是很好吗?可以学习,为什么那些文盲到了要上课的时间就骂爹骂娘的?后来才知道,这些去上课的人劳役指标是一点都不减的,去上了半天课,劳役怎么办?8点以后如果是不需要工具的就得偷偷摸摸地在监室里干,如果是需要工具的就没办法了,只有欠产。这些文盲犯没有文化,什么都不会,只有拼命干活才能拿点分数,和我们经济犯比,她们更加苦,经济犯大部分都做四犯,又经常写写文章,拿分儿的机会比较多,可文盲犯就不同了,只此华山一条路,如果欠产就要扣分,分数达不到就没办法减刑,当然她们要骂了。

干警们是巴不得犯人最好什么都不要去做,一门心思做劳役。监狱从体制上来说,不是企业,应该不是创收单位,为什么要这样让犯人去干活呢?美其名曰“劳动和教育想结合”,教育何在?难道这些表面的现象就代表了教育的成功吗?司法部也好,监管局也罢,我相信政府改进监管体制改善服刑人员待遇的决心,可是下面的人如此操作,上有政策下有对策,“人性化管理”什么时候才能真正落实到位?

路漫漫其修远兮!

坐牢的人如果没有一点盼头那日子是很难过的,每月一次的接见日就是犯人们最期盼的一天。当地人基本上每月都会来接见的,外地的就不可能了,有那个路费还不如寄进来放在大帐上实惠。里面的女犯各种年纪的都有,最小的18岁,还是从少管所转过来的,不满18的是少年犯,是不能送到女监来的,最大的80多岁,这个人从30几岁就吃官司,判过两个无期,真搞不懂。
来接见的家属很早很早就来到监狱门口,有些四犯在接见这天要帮忙干警把桌子抬到接见大厅,还要送热水瓶去,回来以后都会兴奋地告诉大家:外面来了好多家属哦,谁谁谁的妈妈来了,谁谁谁的孩子来了。。。。。。因为接见是在一个大厅里,在里面玩的好的就会互相介绍刚才那个人是我的什么什么人。我还听说因为总是接见的缘故,很多犯人的家属都成了朋友。在外面等着接见很无聊,然后就互相聊天啦,一聊发现自己来接见的人是在一起的,就这样还会下次约好一起来呢。

接见时间是20分钟,一批一批的进去。第一批进去了,第二批的人在大厅的铁门口等,很多人在排队等的时候就开始眼圈发红,年纪小一点的犯人干脆就哭出来了。进去以后,每个接见窗口里面坐两个人,一个是犯人,一个是干警,和家属说的每一句话干警都要作记录,如果说了不该说的话回来就要倒霉了。家属坐在接见台的外面,中间有一道悬空的玻璃,如果家属带了东西就从玻璃下面送进来。监狱里对带进来的东西检查的非常严格,能送什么不能送什么都有严格的规定,超市里能买到的东西是不可以送进来的。有些犯人嫌超市里的东西都是假货让家里带来,干警当场就让家属带回去。

接见时间是二十分钟,一批一批的进去。第一批进去了,第二批的人在大厅的铁门口等,很多人在排队等的时候就开始眼圈发红,年纪小一点的犯人干脆就哭出来了。进去以后,每个接见窗口里面坐两个人,一个是犯人,一个是干警,和家属说的每一句话干警都要作记录,如果说了不该说的话回来就要倒霉了。家属坐在接见台的外面,中间有一道悬空的玻璃,如果家属带了东西就从玻璃下面送进来。监狱里对带进来的东西检查的非常严格,能送什么不能送什么都有严格的规定,超市里能买到的东西是不可以送进来的。有些犯人嫌超市里的东西都是假货让家里带来,干警当场就让家属带回去。

接见的时候规定犯人的手不能放在台子上,要放在自己的腿上,是为了防备犯人趁干警不注意偷偷传纸条出去。以前据说发生过这样的事儿,一个女犯塞了一张纸条给来接见的哥哥,“哥哥,你救救我把,我真的不想活了!”后来家里的人到监狱里来闹,好象是弄的动静挺大的。
接见的场面应该说是我有生以来所看到的最惨的一幕(除了电影电视里看到的以外)。玻璃墙外的爸爸妈妈老泪纵横,一边哭一边骂,你这个傻孩子,怎么会去做这种事儿啊!玻璃墙内的也是一边哭一边说,对不起,爸爸妈妈,原谅女儿吧!妈妈一别骂着一边把手从玻璃墙下伸进来,在女儿的脸上抚摩着。。。。。。女儿多想拉拉妈妈的手,可是不行,就只能这样子坐着流着眼泪感受着妈妈的心疼。如果是结了婚有孩子的就更让人看不下去,有的女犯孩子还很小,家里人抱着来接见,孩子不懂事,一个经儿地叫着,妈妈抱抱!妈妈抱抱!小身子拼命地想挣脱抱着他的手,坐在里面的妈妈真是心如刀割,朝思暮想的孩子就在眼前,可却无法伸出手去把他抱在怀里,只能看着孩子嚎啕大哭。有的实在控制不了自己的感情,也会哭着请求坐在身边的干警,能不能让我摸摸孩子?有些干警心很软,也会同意的,但也有冷冰冰地说不行的。外面的丈夫和家人看到这种情形只能流泪,只能恨自己的孩子。

在监狱里哭也是不自由的,如果在监室或是工厂间哭马上会有人报告干警,因为在那种地方哭很是容易感染,监狱是要以稳定犯人的情绪为重要的,所以不允许大声哭泣。可是只有在接见厅是没有这个规定,在这里许多人把一辈子的泪都流光了。

20分钟的接见在犯人的感觉里似乎只有2分钟那么迅速,原本在监室想好的要和家里人说的话这么一哭也忘掉了。接见时间一到马上就要离开,一分钟也不能耽搁。泪眼相对,依依不舍,也许只有这刻骨的痛才能让我们感到犯罪的可怕,让我们的心在痛苦中忏悔,只有家人的爱才能让我们在这样的环境里有勇气去接受命运的惩罚,有韧性有耐心去等待天明。

没有接见以前的兴奋很快就被接见后的悲伤所代替了。许多人不忍看自己白发的父母被伤心思念而折磨的憔悴不堪的脸,年幼的孩子因想念母亲而哭泣的眼,她们选择了不接见,宁愿独自忍受思念的痛苦,在夜里默默地哭泣。

接见是一件既让人向往又让人辛酸的事情。而在监狱里最让人痛心的莫过于失去自己的亲人。有不少的女犯自己年纪已经不轻了,判的时间又长,在服刑期间就遭遇了父母去世的噩耗。“树欲静而风不止,子欲养而亲不在”,那应该算是人世间最惨烈的痛苦了吧。
犯人和家属的所有信件都必须经过干警的检查,有的犯人本身就不是很坚强的人,如果家属的来信中提到家里爸爸或是妈妈去世了,就不会把这封信给她看了,因为害怕她想不开而做傻事儿。和我一起的一个同犯父亲死了快一年了都不知道,在她即将要出狱的前一个月,干警才把她姐姐写给她的信给了她看,她哭的死去活来,一直怨恨干警为什么不告诉她。而我认为干警这样做没有错,那时告她非出人命不可。她姐姐的信中说,爸爸临终前一直叫着这个小女儿的名字,咽了气眼睛也没闭上。我想做爸爸的是不放心吧,虽然女儿是个有罪的人,但她也是延续自己生命的人那,虽然怒其不争,同样也哀其不幸啊!她是个涉毒犯,我一直认为涉毒的人出去后改好的可能性很小,但我看她拿着姐姐的信痛不欲生的样子,我宁愿相信她出狱后再不会和毒品打交道了。
进了监狱以后老公提出离婚的,男朋友提出分手的,父母提出断绝血缘关系的可谓比比皆是。有的人痛苦不堪,难以接受,哭的闹的自杀的,因此而被关禁闭的,有的人心平气和,无怨无悔接受。当然坚强的人还是多数,有一个犯人得知自己的妈妈走了的消息,竟然一滴眼泪也没流,白天她沉默地干着自己的活,但我相信夜里她一定会流泪。

在那样的环境里很多人都变的很坚强,因为大家很清楚,监狱是不相信眼泪的。外面的人看来很可怜很悲惨的事情在里面天天都会发生,干警门也习以为常了,犯人更是无动于衷,自己都没人同情,那还有心去同情别人。在我认为,苦难本身就是一把利器,瞬间就可以把一个人的同情心打磨的干干净净。在这个地方,生命只是带着微弱的坚强在成长。

监狱里的生活也是生活,日子也是和外面一样必须一天一天地去过,所以在里面的人也并不是整天愁云惨雾的,相反,正因为失去了自由,很多东西都受到了限制,反而一点点的自由或是享受都能让大家心花怒放。

监狱里犯人的法定休息日只有春节、国庆、五一,干警是休七天,但每天都有一个值班的干警来上班。而犯人休三天,以前这样的休息日都是要干活的,从04年开始就基本不干了,即使有些生产大队也只是干半天。这三天里允许穿自己的衣服(平时是必须穿囚服的),但要在胸前挂上番号牌子。其实女犯里有许多长的很漂亮的女人,只不过女人的美是要靠气质来衬托的,五官长的精致的女人一旦脱下了漂亮的衣服换上灰不拉叽的囚服,就再也看不出曾经的美丽了。
这三天可以在监室里看电视,在有节日的这个月里去超市时大家也都会买点平时舍不得买的零食(平时买了也没时间吃),但在监室里依然要坐在凳子上,不允许躺在床上,不可以东倒西歪,即使是这样,那也是天堂了。而且也会有一些活动,打牌、看录象、运动会、看文艺演出。。。。。。这些活动要事先报名的,打牌和看演出是大家最喜欢的了,报名打牌的总是超出名额,没办法就只有轮着来,看演出也是很享受的一件事儿,演员都是服刑的女犯,她们有专门的老师教她们唱歌、跳舞、乐器表演,都是从各个大队挑出来的长的漂亮、能歌善舞的女子,只是要求必须是长刑犯,起码十年以上的人才有资格入选,我想是因为在这种地方培养一个人不容易,如果是短刑犯,刚培养出来了,却要出狱了,没有必要。

舞台上的女孩子穿着特别漂亮的演出服,这些衣服都是她们自己亲手做的,监狱里的人真的是非常聪明。她们化着很美的妆,舞姿曼妙,歌声甜美,歌曲、戏曲、舞蹈、小品,真是多才多艺,任何看过的人都不相信他们是犯人,然而事实是她们中的许多人甚至连死缓、无期的帽子都还没有脱。每当我参加这样的活动时我都会特别佩服她们的勇气,绽放的笑容里竟然没有一丝阴霾。
过春节是监狱里最重视的节日,要加派干警值班的,主要是怕这样的节日会让犯人们触景生情。谁说不是呢?大年三十,外面喧闹的鞭炮声清晰地传入我们的耳朵,电视里喜气洋洋的主持人一声声地祝大家新年快乐,年三十允许电视看到00:00,我似乎从来没有看完过,很多人都一样,早早地就不看了,上床睡觉,希望这一天快快过去。

除了这三个大节日以外,其它的节日就没有休息这么长时间的了,元旦休息一天,中秋节是吃了晚饭以后就不必出工了,端午节没有休息,妇女节休息半天,所有的节日食堂都会给加菜,春节的菜最好,05年的春节我记得年三十晚上的菜是一个很大的鸡腿,一块卤牛肉,一份炒杂素,一份油炸花生米,还有一份鱼头汤,这是监狱里最好的菜。菜太多,我们都吃不完,又不想浪费,就拼命地吃,所以一个节过完,许多人都因为暴饮暴食而肠胃不好了。

快乐的日子总是短暂的,三天的假期一眨眼就过去了,接下来的又开始了永远也做不完的劳役,曾经有一个暴力犯开玩笑说,姐妹们,为了你们的幸福,我出狱以后一定要把这个厂家给炸掉。我们在笑过之后谁都清楚,炸掉这家有那家,这就是我们为自己犯下的错应该要付出的代价。我们只有从现在开始在心里数着日子,希望着下一个节日的来临。而日子也就在我们如此微不足道的小小期盼中一天一天地过去了服刑人员群体原本就是个特殊的群体,但在这样的一个群体中还有一个更加特殊的小群体,那就是政治犯。她们这些人有一个专门的大队关押的,但在刚入监时也是同样需要在“新收”中队待三个月。我在看守所就接触过一些邪教分子,她们对自己的信仰都是特别的坚定。而且逮着机会就要宣传邪教。进入监狱以后,大部分人都不服法,她们认为自己并没有犯罪。在“新收”的三个月里她们也是和其他刑种的犯人关在一起,但绝不会让两个邪教分子关在一个监室。每个干警都要找两个犯人来24小时看着她,这个任务基本都是四犯或是有文化的犯人担当,并且是干警完全信的过的人。 白天寸步不离,晚上两人轮流值班,每人一本小本子,24小时记录被看护人的一点一滴。主要是不让这些邪教分子互相之间传递消息,不允许她们练功。进到监室之前干警要事先通知,不允许我们和她讲话,在里面胆小的犯人还是比较多的,所以大家基本上都不和她们说话。所有的邪教分子刚开始都是要练功的,可没有一个能够练成,一练就有人报告,有的邪教分子等大家睡了练,看她的犯人如果阻止不了,就隔着铁门报告警官,干警的办公室在监区的最外面,所以要报告就得扯着嗓门大叫,这样一来全监区的人都醒了,就因为这一点,犯人们都很讨厌邪教分子,认为她们是吃饱了撑的。她们自认为没犯罪,不是犯人,开始时不肯穿囚服,不肯戴番号牌子,不肯干活,不过坚持的时间都不会很长。一个人在那样的环境里的确很难坚持什么,即使你是个很有毅力的人。

禁闭是监狱里一种非常可怕的处罚,空间的极度压缩使人感到极度的压抑,没有时间和空间感,被剥夺了所有的感官,被黑暗和恐惧包围,看看地震灾区那些被困的人解救以后的精神创伤你就知道它的杀伤力所在。

心理学实验证明正常人的精神在没有任何刺激下经历一天就会开始紧张,两天时则明显焦虑,三天后完全失去正常。这是因为包括你的判断力在内的任何思维都是建立在外界有规律的刺激下的。在失去时间感后,你会逐渐绝望,本来七十二小时的惩罚会变得有几年那么长,这对一个普通人来说是个灾难,更别说一年了。

三个月以后她们会有一个专门的大队关押。到了这里,她们是不需要干活的,待遇什么的都比我们好。一个监室才住3到4个人,刚从“新收”上来的顽固不化的就住3个人的房间,其他两个是看她的犯人。时间长了,有所转化的就可以两个或是三个邪教分子在一个监室里了,当然照样有看她们的人。她们每天的事情就是写思想汇报,电视只能看新闻,每天看了新闻第二天就要写体会。我们每次排队从她们大队经过时总是羡慕的要命,走道里干干净净,静悄悄的,不像我们大队走廊里尽堆的活,四犯们大呼小叫乱哄哄的。每次监狱搞大型的活动,比赛什么的,她们的节目质量总是最高的,因为有时间去创作,去排练,不像我们,记挂着自己的劳役,排练也是走走过场。

但我想这样的日子或许更加难过吧。她们大队的每一个监室都装有监控设备,一切都仿佛是在光天化日之下。没有人说话,没有人交流,要交流只能和干警去交流。我在看守所认识一个邪教分子,我叫她阿姨,她很喜欢我,天天给我讲邪教的事儿,她说我很聪慧,劝我去练邪教功法,可不知怎么搞的,在领悟邪教功法的精髓上我实在是愚笨的很,她费了九牛二虎之力,最终都没让我练上邪教功法,但我却感到她是个虔诚的邪教追随者。她进看守所时身上全是伤,据她说是参加邪教聚会被打的,即使这样她也一点都无悔意。可就是这样一个人在我出狱前的一段时间里在已转化的邪教分子名单上居然看到了她的名字。

我想,她是真正地转化了吗?当然,我也希望她是真正地转化了。而我们虽然活很累,可干活事实上也很能消磨时间,有点文化的犯人是希望最好活少一点,有空可以看看书,但对于那些文盲犯来说没活干比没饭吃都难受。即使没活,也要坐在凳子上,只能看书看报,白天又不能睡觉,不能看电视,那些文盲犯就呆呆地坐着想心事,想着想着就哭了。也不敢哭出声音,只是默默地流泪。这样还真不如干活。

在干活的时候相对来讲干警们对于我们的一些小错误也会很宽容,没活干的时候反而很严格。我们干活时干警是很少到监室里面来,因为里面都是脏兮兮乱哄哄的。只有一大早上班的时候来看看,问问四犯昨天有没有发生什么不好的事情,有的话就带去办公室处理,没有就走了。而我们只要不影响干活,不要大声喧哗,可以说说话,聊聊天。故此,上下床的关系都比较要好,每个人的坐位是固定的,不允许换座位、换床位,有这样的需要也必须打报告请示,干警同意了才可以。不过在工厂间做活就没这么好了,值班干警就坐在最前面虎势眈眈地看着,别说讲话了,连下车位走动一下都是不允许的。如果在车间工作了一天,回到监室就想立马躺到床上。

如果宣布今天在监室干手工,那大家可开心了,讲黄色笑话的,唱歌儿的,讲KB故事的,当然说的最多的还是男人。在外面人看来是隐私的事情在这儿也都不成为秘密了:怎么恋爱的,怎么结婚的,婚后和老公生活的一些趣事,甚至自己做第三者的经过,和男友造爱的过程都可以描述的一清二楚。无论什么层次的人第一次听到这些话都会瞠目结舌,讲的人没有一点不好意思的神情,听的人却像是做了坏事儿一样先自脸红了。不过,要不了多长时间,那些曾经不能听这种话的人也加入了说的行列,素质高一点的人虽然不说,可听着也不再觉得刺耳了,所谓“细物润无声”,潜移默化的确就有这么可怕。

我入狱以前从来没有想过监狱是什么样子的,但我看过一些描写监狱故事的港片,看的时候也有感叹,监狱里竟然这么乱,打死人也没人管的。所以在公共安全专家局接受调查时脑子里曾闪过自杀的念头,我想我是无论如何也不能去那个地方的。我进看守所的第一天就遇上房间有人打架,两个女人仅仅就是为了一杯水的问题打生死架,血从一个人的头上喷出来,晕过去的反而是我。在看守所,有个“二进宫”的人就告诉我,监狱比看守所好多了,有床睡,不像看守所只能睡地板,而且监狱的伙食也要好的多,最重要的是监狱的干警比看守所的管教素质高,没那么凶,环境也不似这般的乱。

事实上,那个人没有骗我。犯人恶意地欺压、侮辱犯人的事情是没有的,只是犯人之间打架就不可避免了,吵架更是天天发生。监狱里是用犯人来管理犯人的,一个干警要带三、四十个犯人,何况干警9点上班,下午4点就下班了,怎么可能亲自来管我们。干警其实就是来处理问题的。因为是犯人管犯人,这也就难免要弄出许多事儿来。

四犯大部分都是有点文化的人。在监狱里,读过高中的就算是知识分子了。大学生、硕士生甚至博士生也有的,不过很少。对于这些高学历的人,干警只要不是很变态的,都会重用。在监狱里,犯人最紧张的就是分数,而在里面无论干一件什么事情都是要给分儿的。譬如,犯人入监后通通要写认罪书,可文盲犯不会写字,那就要由别人代写,文盲犯每月一次写家信也要人代写,这个代写的人就能以“帮助同犯”为由得到0。5分的奖励,来了活需要人去搬去抬,这也有0。5分的奖励,出个黑板报奖励2分,监狱广播站和监狱报刊录用了一篇投稿奖励3分。。。。。。只要做了事就有分。这样一来问题就出来了,有许多拿分高可又相对轻松的活谁都想去做,可派谁去做却是由四犯决定的。人手上有了特权就很容易滑向犯罪的边缘,这句话是我在一本反贪书上看到的。正因为这样的一个管理制度,从而勾心斗角的,吹嘘拍马的,歪门邪道的,恶意中伤的。。。。。。什么现象都会发生。一些家里经济条件好的,买回来的大帐送给四犯,这样就很容易得到一些特殊的待遇了,安排去做个检验员什么的,活不用干,分儿拿的又高。最苦的就是那些农村来的犯人,本身就没什么文化,人又老实,不会说不会写,看到干警腿肚子就抽筋,平时累死累活,一个月就拿那么一点可怜的分数,还要天天被别人当成出气筒骂来骂去。她们很委屈时总是说,出去后就是卖房卖地也要供孩子上大学,就是坐牢也他妈的要有文化。许多时候我会感到自己的渺小和无助,再就是内心里说不出的孤寂无依,我没有更多的办法可以帮到她们。
犯人中最让人羡慕的就是那些短刑犯了,她们的刑期都在3年以下,看守所就待了个半年一年的,到监狱“新收”折腾三个月,剩下不到两年的刑期了,监狱从争取到减刑是两年一轮的,所以,三年以下的短刑犯是没有减刑的。其实,“无欲则刚”这句成语用在监狱真是再恰当不过了。总之没有减刑,分数对她们来说可有可无。她们想干就干,不想干就不干,反正想超产想干活的人多的要死。欠产吗?没关系,扣分儿好啦,监狱规定不允许串监(就是“串门”),可她就偏要串,干警上班她上班,干警下班她下班,看谁不顺眼就骂,遇上不服气的就打,反正监狱规定吵架打架各打五十大板,蓄意挑衅的扣的分数重点,还嘴还手的扣的轻点,我扣分儿没关系,你他妈扣的起吗?整个一副“我是流氓我怕谁”的嘴脸。干警对这样的人也是睁一眼闭一眼,这种人很快就要出去的,犯不着逼的太狠,惹急了出去找你麻烦也说不定。曾经有犯人就这样威胁过干警,你不让我活,我出去就杀你全家。这些人也很知趣,干警在就老实点,干警走了就无法无天,四犯也不敢去管她们,她们俨然把坐牢当成了疗养。
什么是社会?就是差别、悬殊和苦难。监狱就是一个小社会,一个大队、一个中队、一个小组就是一个个更小的社会,在这里同样上演着一幕幕的戏剧,只是戏剧的调子不是那么高昂罢了。
犯人在里面少则一两年,多则十几二十年,看到异性都不是一件很容易的事情,就更别说生理需要了。我待的监狱是绝对没有安排犯人家属来同居一晚这样的事情。不过监狱有这样的政策,长刑期的犯人刑期过半了以后,减过刑的,改造表现特别好的,主管干警会替其申报节日探家,这个政策也是近一两年才有的。大都是三个大的节日,探家时间最短的3天,最长的5天,要家属担保,亲自到监狱门口来接。回家后也必须每天打电话进来报告行踪,回监狱的时间是早晨8点以前,绝不允许超过时间。除此之外,就再也不可能有和异性在一起的可能。像《肖克的救赎》里的同性恋现象肯定是有的,不过没有那么过分。监狱的《服刑人员行为规范》里有明文规定,服刑人员严禁同性恋,05年的新《行为规范》里这一条竟然没有了,难道是允许犯人同性恋?这一点我也不得而知,我在出狱之前监狱依然是不允许的。

在那样的环境里人需要关心、需要爱是很正常的,有许多人根本就不是同性恋,只是因为寂寞、孤独、需要一份依靠才会这样去做。当然也有真正的同性恋者,这类人从她们的眼神里就能看出来。在监狱里搞同性恋是要付出没有减刑的代价的,可依然有人为了要在一起而不管不顾。一方如果被调到别的大队去了,她们会想尽一切办法传递情书,虽然被抓住的结果是上拷、关禁闭,但依然阻止不了这种事情的发生。如果是真心要好也就没什么好说的了,最讨厌的是有些人把同性恋当成了艰苦生活中的消遣。里面长的好看的人在犯群中会比较得宠,可也会受到很多骚扰。特别是长刑期的暴力犯大队,一个漂亮女人到了这里,就等于是羊入虎口。干警们虽然该罚的罚,该关的关,可事实上她们也不是很在意,因为太多了,用干警的话说,反正也搞不出小孩。
监狱对于自杀自残的犯人惩罚是很重的。因为有规定不允许单独行动,所以自杀也很不容易。有一个犯人在干活的时候把针拍进胸口,立马被送到监狱的医院开刀,还有把调羹吞进肚子里的,喝机油的,把牙刷柄磨尖了割脉的,大家睡着了以后上吊的,反正都死不了。邪教分子最喜欢绝食,但照样没用,干警让几个四犯抓住她的手,掰开嘴,把牛奶往里灌,实在不行的就拉出去灌肠。

监狱里对于那些不服管理的犯人如果教育失效,那就要上械具了。罚站是最轻的,干警不需要任何手续就能让犯人罚站。如果是上拷、电警棍、关禁闭则要向大队申请。这些械具里面最痛苦的是电警棍,受这种惩罚的一般是些几进宫的老油条,干警已经懒的和她们多费口舌,用干警的话说是不可救药的人,多说无益,只有电警棍能让她们老实。每个大队都有几间禁闭室,里面永远都有人。监狱里两种人是经常会受到械具惩罚的:有个性的和有胆量的。

监狱里对有病的犯人看病是不收钱的。监狱有医务室,一般的小毛病就在这儿看。每个大队有一个医务犯,有病要先打报告给医务犯申请,然后交到干警办公室,干警批准了就行。每个星期只有星期一看病,感冒这样可以拖的小毛病,即使星期二就打了报告,也要拖到下星期一才能去,只有发高烧或者肚子痛才能算急诊,要先报告值班干警,由干警单独带去医务室。在里面大部分人有点小病都不去看,太浪费时间,排队就要排半天,去了以后要所有的犯人都看完了才能一块儿回来,去看也不过就是开点药,浪费半天时间划不来。只有急诊才有可能开病假,医务室开了病假出来就可以放心休息了,病假期间是没有劳役指标的。看病的申请过程也很不容易,不是你一申请就让你去看的,涉毒犯规定不给开止痛片,所以有些涉毒犯就让其他人装病去医务室,就因为这个原因,凡是申请这里痛那里痛的犯人总是得不到批准,有的女人来例假痛经很厉害,要求去看病,干警会冷言冷语地说,痛经有什么了不起的,那么娇气别进来呀!故此,为了不浪费自己的劳役时间,也不愿看干警的脸色,不是非看不可的病就不去看了。

在里面所有的行为都必须是很规范的,无论干什么都要报告,即使是上厕所这样的事情,如果干警找谈心,在干警办公室门口就要报告,坐下要报告,说话要报告,都要得到干警的同意后才行。在任何地方,走廊或是去工厂间的路上只要遇上干警就必须停步,要等干警走过去以后才可以起步。。。。。。因为有太多的规定,而犯人长年在这样的规定中生活,很多行为都养成了习惯。曾经干警给我们讲过一个长刑期大队的笑话,可这是真事儿,有个长刑犯在监狱里十几年,达到探家条件后干警给她报了材料,监狱批准她探家3天。回去后她根本不能适应,家里人给她开了宾馆,她看到穿制服的保安竟然下意识地停在原地,让别人过去。干警说这事的时侯神情也是很悲哀的。

也就是为了犯人能在出监前改掉一些习惯,监狱会把三个月后即将出狱的人调到专门的一个近期大队,这里的环境很宽松,和干警讲话可以很随便,走路遇上干警也不必报告,每天只要干半天活,电视白天也可以看。。。。。。主要是让回归的犯人和社会接轨,不至于把监狱里养成的习惯带出去。从近期大队的铁窗前可以看到外面的大门,越是临近出狱,心情越是混乱。在里面这么多年,虽然很苦很累,但人已经麻木了,每天都是在重复昨天,根本不需要动脑筋,也没那么多时间让你去动脑筋。可现在有足够的时间想事儿。即将要踏入的那个世界现在是个什么样子?以后将怎样面队亲戚朋友的眼光?回归社会后能重新开始吗?。。。。。。每个人都是在即将回归的兴奋和面对未来的迷茫中矛盾着、幻想着。

出狱的日子终于在焦急的等待中来临了。这一天,开封后就可以穿上自己的衣服,在洗漱室会有许多的同犯前来祝贺,互相说着勉励的话。8点一到,干警就在走廊里叫名字了,和所有的人打过最后一次招呼,就算是彻底离开这个监区了。来到干警的办公室,把所有要带出去的物品交给她检查,大部分出狱的人是不带东西的,我们离开前都把东西送给了近期的其他人,也有一些迷信的人要带一个杯子出去,是把自己的一“辈子”带出去的意思,只有那些家里很贫困的人会把自己的生活用品带出监狱。我只带了几本书,干警也检查了好一阵子,每本书都很仔细地翻过,主要是看有没有替别的犯人带什么电话、纸条的。干警的动作慢条斯理,我却心急如焚,觉得这时每一分钟都是那么漫长。检查完了带出监的物品,然后脱光衣服,干警把衣服的边边角角都捏一遍,确信没问题了,好,穿上衣服,走吧。

从监区到大铁门要经过一个操场,我出狱的这天天气非常的好,操场很空旷,我和带我出监的队长并肩走着。在这之前每一个出狱的人都被别的犯人叮嘱过,出去的时候一直往前走,千万别回头。我是个不迷信的人,在走近第一道铁门前,我忍不住回了头。这个消耗了我5年青春的地方,我洒下了无数汗水的地方,你带给我屈辱,也让我成长。。。。。。现在,我终于要和你永别了。
干警送到这道门她的任务就完成了,她说再见吧,祝你以后一切好运!我看着她转身的背影,在心里和她默默地道别:我永远也不会和你在这里再见的。我转过身大步向第一道铁门走去,再也没有回头,我知道,在这道铁门外正站着我日夜思念的父母。

坐牢绝不是一件值得夸耀的事情,对我来说,反而是一种耻辱,是在我生命画卷上永远也抹不去的一块墨迹。我写这篇文章,是考虑了很久才决定的。在里面我看到许多年纪很小的女孩子懵懵懂懂地就进来坐牢了,我真的感到特别心痛,她们是不应该进来这里的,为什么会进来呢?因为她们不懂得,没有人告诉过她们。

监狱是惩罚犯罪的地方,吃苦是理所当然,如果很舒适,犯罪的人将会更多。中国的法律法规以及监管体制存在着很大的不足,但我并不是不能理解。我在这里面没有去向大家详尽地描述我个人在监狱里的经历和感受,就是不希望自己带着一种很强烈的个人感情去写这篇东西。我的个人经历和感受或许我会用另一种体裁把它写出来,譬如小说。在这里面我只是想让不了解的人了解,让不懂得的人懂得。

我对监狱并没有恨,有的只是痛。

如果这篇文章能够给大家一点触动,我会感到很欣慰。当我现在走在马路上,我相信从我的身上已经再也看不到一丝一毫监狱的影子,可是我知道在我的身体里有一个很深的伤口,也许随着时间的流失,我会把它越埋越深,但它永远都不会消失。白天我看着街上行色匆匆的人群,天真的孩童、慈祥的老人、手拖着手亲密无间的伴侣,我只想说:能自由地活着,真好!
最后我用在监狱里时一位我非常尊敬的警官在我的周记上写下的一段话来表达我对所有看过这篇文章的朋友们的感谢:一个人仅仅了解自己能做什么的时候还不够,唯有明白自己不能做什么的时候,才能真正干成大事!

The girls who disappeared

TRUE CRIME DOCUMENTARY

PART I

“But going back to the subject of Chinese cruelty, overwhelmingly evident every day everywhere in the country, a few samples of regular practices are illustrative. For instance, a man who falls overboard from a boat not manned by members of his family or close friends need not expect to be picked up. Falling overboard, it may be mentioned, is not an infrequent occurrence among Chinese. Almost any veteran foreigner who has traveled up and down the rivers of China will be able to recount one or more cases where he has personally observed a man drown without efforts to save him by other Chinese a few feet away on shore or in a boat. …

“An American Consul related to me a personally witnessed occurrence at a place up the Yangtze where he was stationed, one that strikes a westerner as incredible, but which would not impress a native Chinese as anything remarkable. It happened that a sampan loaded down with a cargo of live pigs, and crowded also with Chinese, was caught in a treacherous current and overturned a little distance from the shore. The Chinese and pigs aboard were spilled out into the water. A number of other Chinese along the shore, seeing the upset, immediately put out to the scene in their own boats, and began greedily picking up the live pigs swimming about. The drowning and pleading humans who wailed to be taken aboard were knocked on the head as fast as they swam to the arriving boats, and were all washed downstream and drowned. The Chinese minute men of the sampans returned in high glee with their unexpected catch of fresh pork and life went on as usual. …

“Once I was present at a Chinese dinner, the main guests at which were several high ranking officers in one of the Chinese royal armies. Those officers were vastly above the common run. As I recall, two or more of them had been educated in Japan, up till recently the main training ground for educated Chinese officers. Several of the Chinese present spoke English and as my knowledge of Mandarin was feeble, they put in an explanation of the conversation now and then for me in English. It appeared that in a recent campaign a group of higher officers had been captured, and a colloquy followed to decide how they should die. The means finally chosen was that each of the captured officers should be forced to eat a handful of loose needles. After this relish, they were lined up for their captors to watch the effects of this diet. They died in about two hours.”

Ways that are Dark, Ralph Townsend

TRANSLATED AND TAKEN FROM CHINESE SOURCE

In 2003, Senior Zhang (“Zhang Gaoping”) was 38 years old, previously divorced and just recently remarried in 2002. In order to make a living, he brought a truck to do inter-province transportation of goods, similar to inter-state truck drivers in the US. He hired his brother’s son, Junior Zhang (“Zhang Hui”), who was 27 years old at the time, as his assistant. Junior Zhang was young and aggressive, and had previously been arrested and imprisoned for aggravated assault. After serving his sentence of one year and a half, he swore to change his way of life and became obedient and hardworking. He had a girlfriend and they were ready to marry.

They were seemingly ordinary men living their ordinary lives, but disaster soon fell and their lives were changed forever.

May 18 2003, as usual, the Zhangs planned to drive their truck from their provincial home of Anhui to Shanghai for business. Due to lack of transportation in their provincial home, many of their fellow villagers would hitch-hike their truck to go to big cities. Sometimes the hitch-hikers would give them some small gifts as payments, but most other times, due to their close connections as fellow villagers, the Zhangs never accepted any payment. The Zhangs were in fact quite famous in their hometown, since they were the only ones who owned a truck around that area, and as their reputation grew, as well as their reputation for hospitality, more and more people started to hitchhike their truck. And on this day, an 18 year old girl from the same village found them through connections with relatives to hitchhike their truck to go to Hangzhou.

According to the recollection of Senior Zhang, at the time, because they were actually going to Shanghai, and going to Hangzhou would require them to make unnecessary adjustments to their travel arrangements, initially they were hesitant to let her hitchhike, but, after seeing that she was just a girl, they decided to send her to the East Train Station of Hangzhou, at which place her uncle was supposed to pick her up.

Once they were at the East Train Station, they found out, the uncle had changed plans and decided not come to pick her up. After contacting this uncle, the girl was told to call a taxi and go to the place on her own. Being kindhearted, in addition to being fellow villagers from the same province, the Zhangs decided to drive her closer to where she was supposed to be, and, on the way, brought her dinner before sending her off. In order to be extra careful, the Zhangs wrote down for the girl their phone numbers, including their work phone, their home phone, and the phone of the Zhang’s supervisor.

At 5 AM, the Zhangs arrived at Shanghai for their business.

“The last time I saw the girl was looking at the silhouette of her back, standing by the sidewalk, waiting for taxi.” Senior Zhang recalled.

Which taxi did she get on? No one will ever know.

For the next ten years, both senior Zhang and junior Zhang expressed some remorse and guilt. “Only if we had watched her get on the taxi, then write down the plate number of the taxi. But at the time we were in a hurry to go to Shanghai. Being late would incur penalties.”

But everything is all too late.

The next day, around 10 AM, the girl’s corpse was discovered.

An old man strolling around Qianjiang Third Bridge, in the Xihu district of Hangzhou, found a completely naked girl, lying face down in the shallow water in a sewage pump. The police were called and after examining her body and finding tearing of the hymen, it was determined that she was raped before being killed.

Because the number she called around 1 AM was to the work number of Zhang, and because the Zhangs were the last two persons who had seen the girl alive, the police firmly placed their suspicion on Zhang.

May 23 2003, after their return trip from Shanghai, the police arrested the Zhangs at their homes in Anhui on suspicion of rape and murder.

After seven days of interrogation, the Zhangs confessed that, indeed, they were the ones who raped the girl on their truck, then killed her and dumped her corpse.

The police actually did not have any direct evidence. At the crime scene, they did not find the fingerprints of Zhang on the clothes of the girl, the backpack and other luggage of the girl, or any part of the body of the girl. Also, they did not find any sperm inside the vaginal tract of the girl’s corpse. It was conjectured that the sewage water might have washed away any potential incriminating evidence such as Zhang’s sperm.

Zhang’s truck had also been thoroughly searched and there was no evidence of any bodily fluid, any bodily hair, or even any evidence of fighting that had occurred inside the truck.

Even without any direct evidence, the police was still convinced that the Zhangs were indeed the ones who committed the crime. Why? Because they had the time and the opportunity to commit the crime. But the Zhangs insisted they didn’t. The last phone call the girl made was at 1 AM in the morning. But Zhang said they sent the girl off at 1:30 AM, and then hurriedly went to Shanghai, arriving in Shanghai at five in the morning.

“There are many people who can testify! We arrived Shanghai at 5 AM. At 1:30 AM, she was still alive!” Senior Zhang protested.

It was also possible to calculate based on the speed of their truck the approximate location of the Zhangs relative to Shanghai, and the conclusion was that it was not possible for the Zhangs to have the time to commit the crime, were they able to arrive Shanghai at 5 AM.

But the police did not believe the Zhangs were in Shanghai at 5 AM, and they had even conducted an experiment by driving from Hangzhou to Shanghai with the same model of truck that Zhang had. The attorney for Zhangs said during the trial, that that was not the case, because Zhang’s truck was over load limit at the time. “It’s equivalent to a man walking while carrying 200 pounds of equipment. The experiment you conducted was with an empty truck, while my client’s truck was dangerously over-loaded. So the truck speed was very very slow. ”

But, unfortunately, the police did not take it into consideration.

At the time, the Zhangs and their attorney had also demanded that the police take into evidence the surveillance camera footage at the highway entrance station from Hangzhou to Shanghai. This would also be able to exonerate the Zhangs, according to Zhang’s attorney, since it would show that the Zhangs did not have the time to commit the crime. Again, this plead for evidence had been denied.

Nine years later, the attorney Li, who was able to finally exonerate the Zhangs, said that, “The police never bothered to look for the camera footage. There were lots and lots of surveillance cameras along the high way from Hangzhou to Shanghai. If the police had bothered to take the time to look for those footage, it wouldn’t have ended this way.” Attorney Li himself had tried to locate the footage, but since it had been nine years, the footage had long been erased.

The second evidence that the police used was from another prisoner by the name of Yuan. According to Yuan, he heard senior Zhang confessing to him the crime and Zhang even voluntarily wrote down a confession.


“This confession was not obtained through torture.” The District Attorney said during the trial.

In March of 2008, however, in an unrelated incident, the suspect who had been convicted of killing an entire family in Henan has been exonerated in court. When being asked why he confessed to the killing in the first place, the suspect said that he was tortured by a fellow prisoner while being jailed, and this prisoner was also Yuan, the same prisoner who overheard and helped write down the confession of Zhang.

Senior Zhang said, “As soon as we were in jail, the fellow prisoner Yuan came to us and said he already knew everything about our crimes, and even described to us many details about our case that we did not already know. Then he said we need to feel remorse and he wrote down a confession for us and told us to copy his confession in our own writings.”

But why did you do it?

Senior Zhang continued: “Yuan started beating me almost immediately after I went inside. He said my presence ruined his appetite. And he had made many rules for me, such as, when he urinates, I have to get down our knees near the toilet and in the morning, I have to get on my knees and pray to Buddha.

Junior Zhang also said that similar things happened to him as soon as he went in jail. The same fellow prisoner Yuan started beating him as soon as he saw him.

Did you not ask for help? The reported asked Junior Zhang. “Of course we did, but no one paid any attention to us. Yuan and his goons were not making any sense to me. They just kept on beating me until I felt like death was better than being tortured like this.”

Senior Zhang said that this Yuan prisoner was not most definitely not an ordinary prisoner. “I could never figure out how he was able to know so much details about our case, even more than I did. He wrote a confession for me, detailing how we raped the girl in our truck, and then killed her, and forced me to copy everything down in my own handwriting. ”

After being forced to write down his own confession, senior Zhang, being more experienced, actually tore off a piece of the confession that was written by Yuan, but when a police guard came by and saw it, he took it away from him and never came back. After Yuan found out, he gave senior Zhang another round of severe beating. Yuan and some other prisoners dragged him into the restroom and kicked his groins until he blacked out.

In addition to constant beatings, both Zhangs were subject to other methods of torture. Junior Zhang, for instance, was handcuffed for seven days straight, and he had defecated and urinated in his pants and were never allowed to use the bathroom. Both Junior Zhang and Senior Zhang were not allowed to sleep. They must remain standing at all times and if they fell to the group or dozed off, they were given beatings until they woke up or got on their feet again. Nor were they given much of anything to eat in those seven days. They only had eaten some leftovers discarded by the police guards.

Other forms of tortured included: being stuffed in all orifices with burning cigarettes.

They were indeed never tortured by the police. They were tortured by fellow prisoners.

“Given the way they were beating me, I would not survive even if I were sister Jiang [Jiang Zhuyun, Communist spy who were tortured to death by the Chinese nationalists during the Chinese civil war].” Senior Zhang said.

Given the account above, it became obvious that there was no other solid evidence than the alleged confession, that was “voluntarily” written by the Zhangs.

The confessions that were written by both Zhangs have staggeringly wild disparities. For instance, Senior Zhang writes that he alone carried the corpse of the girl into the sewage, while Junior Zhang says that both of them carried the corpse into the sewage, “Senior Zhang holding the feet and I holdig the girl’s head.” There were also glaring disparities as to where the rape happened. Senior Zhang says it happened at the front seat. Junior Zhang says it happened at the back seat. Inconsistencies also consisted as to when the girl died. Even for logistics. The truck allegedly drove onto a very narrow road that was even hard for smaller cars to pass, but the Zhangs were driving not just a truck, but a heavily loaded car. What would happen if their car were stuck? Would they discard their truck and flee on feet? Not to mention the fact that the Zhangs knew the girl through a relative. If they really did had intentions to rape and murder the girl, they would become the immediate suspect. Would anyone be really this dumb? Suppose the Junior Zhang was indeed so rash, but Senior Zhang was already close to 40s, recently married and his wife was six months pregnant, what he really risk such a happy life to assist Junior Zhang in this crime, which is punishable by death in the Chinese justice system?

And what about DNA evidence. “I have never even touched her. There is definitely no DNA of me on her.”

The police in fact found some DNA evidence. In the fingernails of the girl, there was DNA evidence belonging to a fourth person that did not belong to the girl, Senior Zhang or Junior Zhang. Who is this fourth person? Would Zhangs have committed the rape and murder with this fourth person? Even if it were indeed the Zhangs who committed the rape and murder, the police should have been obligated to find this fourth person. However, the police ignored this DNA evidence, and the judge during the trial refused to admit DNA as evidence.

April 21 2004 Hangzhou Supreme Criminal Court sentenced Senior Zhang to death and Junior Zhang to life sentence in prison. Both Zhangs refused to accept the sentence and appealed to higher appellate, and in court, they took off their shirts to show the scars they had accumulated on their bodies while being imprisoned, demonstrating to the judge and everyone else present that they were tortured and their written confessions were involuntary.

However, the court refused to admit this as evidence.

Half a year later, October 19 2004, the higher appellate court Zhejiang Supreme Criminal Court determined the case lacked solid evidence and re-sentenced Senior Zhang to suspended death penalty and Junior Zhang to 15 years in prison.

According to what we know now, it’s actually still impossible to determine if indeed the Zhangs were absolutely innocent, but the lack of evidence, and the carelessness of the police overwhelmingly support our suspicions.

And while the Zhangs were serving their sentence in prison, at almost the exactly same location, another rape-murder case had occurred.

January 8 2005, Miss Wu, a graduate student at ZheJiang University just finished her English final exam and was calling her mother asking about the schedule of the last bus to Hangzhou Train Station. Her plan was to take Route 151 bus to Hangzhou Train Station and then change to other transportation to her home in Shuidian New Village. Traveling from the northside of the city to the southside of the city takes at least one hour, and she would also need to go cross Qianjiang Third bridge. Her mom suggested that she takes a taxi instead. On the phone she told her mom, “I will consider,” and then hung up. And this was the last conversation between the mother and the daughter.

In a dumpster near ZheJiang University, police found a red handbag belonging to Wu. Inside was her student ID and other items. Her body was found near along Qianjiang river, inside a sewage dump that was filled to the brim with waste water. Her body was completely naked. She had been lying inside the 3 meter deep sewage for eight days. Her clothes were found nearby her naked body.

The suspect was Mr. Gu, a Taxi driver from Jilin province, 35 years of age.

After obtaining the testimony from Gu, the Hangzhou police issued a statement to the Hangzhou media stating that Miss Wu was not raped, dispelling the rumor for the general public. “She was killed only because she had an oral argument with the taxi driver Mr. Gu,” the press released claimed.

According to the testimony by Mr Gu, Miss Wu got off Route 151 bus at Flowery Garden Hotel and was waiting at the Route 505 bus stop. But she had missed the last Route 505 bus and so she decided to get on the Taxi of Mr. Gu. Mr. Gu drove her to Shuidian New Village. She was supposed to pay 14 RMB (around 2 USD) to Mr Gu. But when Miss Wu saw the number 14 on the meter, she said, “Impossible. I take Taxi from Hangzhou Train Station to Bing River all the time and it takes only ten RMB.” Afterward, she started cursing at Mr. Gu and they began to bicker. On that same day, Mr. Gu had been having arguments with his wife in Jilin, due to money issues and not being able to go back to Jilin for the up-coming Chinese New Year. He was despondent and his heart was filled with frustration and resentment. When Miss Gu opened the door of the taxi cab and was preparing to take off, Mr. Gu got out and kicked her back into the cab. Miss Wu started to yell and curse even harder. Filled with rage, Mr. Gu grabbed her throat and choked her to death. Now, filled with terror, Mr. Gu drove back to ZheJiang University and discarded her red handbag inside a nearby garbage dumpster. His intention was to trick the police into thinking that she had been murdered near the university campus. Then he drove to the downstream of Qianjiang River and dumped her corpse inside a sewage dump. And in order to make it appear that she was raped, he took off all her clothes as well. He also took Miss Wu’s laptop and MP3 to a relative as personal gifts.

In Mr. Gu’s testimony, he emphasized again and again that he did not have a plan to kill her, nor did he have intentions to rape her. He clearly understood that, according to Chinese Justice System, premeditated killing and rape could mean death sentence, but if he only acted on impulse, which would be considered manslaughter, and for that, at most, he would be sentenced to life in prison.

The media stepped in after his testimony went public, and there were in fact many people who sympathized with Mr. Gu. The claims were that Miss Wu were condescending to the people who toiled at the bottom of the Chinese society and her arrogant behavior was the cause of her own death.

However, some were skeptical. Miss Wu was a college student in her twenties. She was found completely naked inside a sewage. Even though there was no DNA evidence found inside her vaginal tract, that could be due to the fact that she had been immersed in water for eight days straight. Her belongings were meager, with only a handbag, a laptop and a MP3, so that should not have been any motivation for robbery. As for impulsive killing, many noted, Gu was from North East China, a province near Mongolia noted for producing strong men mixed with Mongol breed, and over 1.8 meter tall (around 6 feet). If he had wanted to teach a lesson to Miss Wu, he could have easily overpowered her and given her a drubbing without her being able to resist.

Giving her a beating would cost him some money in court and only 15 days in jail. So why kill her?

Another point that many made was, Gu was able to rationally and systematically process the corpse after killing Miss Wu, driving his Taxi, with her dead body inside, back to Zhejiang University, and then taking off her clothes and dumping her body in a sewage, all of which seem to indicate that he must have had some “experience” in such matter. If he had killed a person for the first time, the logic went, he would have been scared out of his mind, and the first thing he should have done is to flee, but this was not what Gu did.

Yet more mystery was, around the same place, just a few meters away from the same sewage system, over a year ago, the police had found the corpse of another girl, Wang, who had been raped and murdered.

It should have been so obvious, some pointed out, that in a span of two years, at the same location, using almost the same method, two girls were murdered. Why did the police not investigate more?

And yet the police insisted that this case did not involve rape. According to the police who spoke to the newspaper at the time, “Because Miss Wu was very beautiful, and the fact that she was completely naked, many people in public thinks she was raped. But according to the testimony by the suspect, we have eliminated this possibility.”

Even more strange things happened next. In the Chinese Justice System, what Mr. Gu did was manslaughter, and the district attorney had only charged him with the crime of manslaughter, but within three months, Mr Gu went though hearing, trial, and death-penalty audit, and was immediately executed. The speed with which all those things happened was quite abnormal. Ordinarily, the whole process should take at least six months to over a year, but Gu went from being arrested to being executed in only three months.

Back to the story of Senior and Junior Zhang.

While serving their sentences inside prison, they continued to try to appeal their case and had never given up. The brother of Senior Zhang traveled to Beijing to appeal their case to the supreme court of the Chinese capital, Due to the impoverished economic state of Zhang, his brother could only afford 5 RMB (less than 1 USD) hostels for sleep. In his recollection, he said, there were more than dozens of people all crowded in one room, all of them were in the capital appealing for justice, and “on this road to appeal, I have traveled for the last ten years.”

Due to the notoriety of being rapists and murderers, the wife of Senior Zhang divorced her husband and aborted her five months old fetus. The girlfriend of Junior Zhang had also broken up with him and canceled the wedding. Senior Zhang has two daughters from the previous marriage, and because of their father, both of them had been ridiculed and bullied in school. According to Chinese traditions, the sins of the fathers must be carried out on their children. The relatives of the dead girl had instructed other school children to beat and humiliate Senior Zhang’s daughters by stripping them naked in public and torturing them by sticking small tree branches inside their vagina and pouring hot coffee inside. “Your father is a rapist and a murderer. You deserve it.” Unable to endure the torture and humiliation, both daughters quit school and went to work in factories. And at work, they were still constantly being harassed and bullied by other coworkers who had heard about their father’s story, and eventually they were forced to resign their jobs. Even though they were very pretty, no man dared to have romantic relationships with the two sisters, because of their father’s reputation for being a rapist and murderer. Both daughters ended up being sold to a brothel in Shanghai and became prostitutes. Their grandmother and grandfather died of heart attack within a few days after they were sold.

The lives of their father Senior Zhang and their uncle Junior Zhang were even worse in prison. Because they were rapists, fellow prisoners disdained them and found many ways to torture them, numerous tortures were administered daily, such as sticking cattle prods inside their rectums and electrocuting their gentials. Junior Zhang had become resigned to life and decided not to fight the government, even though he was still trying to appeal his case. Senior Zhang, however, could never let go of this injustice. Everyday he said, “I’m innocent,” and when the prison guard called out his number, he replied, “I’m innocent,” instead of repeating his prison number. He became such a headache to the prison guards that during administrative meetings the prison guards would especially raise issues regarding Senior Zhang to their supervisors.

Pale Swan in Watery Nest

For many years, my mother, my sister and I had been enslaved by Chinese National Communist Members before coming to America

TRUE CRIME DOCUMENTARY

Many many years ago, prior to our family’s immigration to America, certain things had happened that to this day my mother had forbidden me to tell anyone else. It’s better to bury those shameful events deep in your memory, she tells me, it’s best to completely forget them …

My parents lived in rural Jilin province, the economically under-developed backwater of the barren, rustic northern China. My older sister told me, after her mother had given birth to her, she had been given involuntary abortion four times. “Unable to bear the shame, she killed herself,” that was my sister’s exact words. “In China, if a woman cannot give birth to sons, it’s considered shameful, and whenever the results came back saying that she had been pregnant with yet another girl, our father took her to the hospital and forced her to have an abortion. At the end of it all, it was just too much for her.”

My older sister always said everything without any emotion. She would just as well be describing someone else’s mother. She went on to describe how our father used to torture her. “Oh the cooking is not done right? He picked up the iron stick and beat her.” In winter time, to keep our home warm, every family had a furnace that burned yeontan, and we always had iron sticks, iron chopsticks, and pike poles studded by scary hooks right by the furnace. “He hated her because she was not able to give birth to sons, and it’s considered disgraceful. Sometimes he stripped her naked and beat her in front of guests. Sometimes he used lit cigarettes to burn her flesh. Another time he used his belt to whip her. Another time he even used a plier to twist her nipples. When her screaming became too loud and disturbing to the neighbors, he stuffed his dirty socks into her mouth and continued to beat her.”

I was of course horrified when she told me all this. Then my sister said “We are women. We are cheap and worthless like insects.” After coming to the United States, and finally being freed, I once told her, recollecting all the events that had happened back then, and all the conversations that we exchanged: “Back when you said that, you should have annotated with an asterisk, adding the phrase Asian women. It’s Asian women who are cheap and worthless like insects.” Seeing all the gorgeous beautiful white girls being pampered and treated like princesses by tall and muscular white guys, my sister nodded.

One particular evening, after another round of brutal beating, her mother drank farm-grade insecticide and killed herself. I say “her mother” because I have never met her mother.

My father remarried a second wife and gave birth to me. Exactly one year before my birth, gender-testing during pregnancy was banned and, no longer able to tell the gender of the unborn, my mother had no choice but to give birth to me, and on the day I was delivered in the hospital, my father cried and begged to heaven that I was a boy. Lucky me, I suppose, that I was born and not aborted. Or perhaps unlucky me, that I was actually born, and destined to suffer this life as a lowly Asian girl.

After I was born, my father was on the verge of suicide himself. “I am doomed! My family lineage is cut. I am rootless. I am now castrated.” He said those words all the time. Not only that, but even my grandparents hated me for being a girl and had on numerous occasions tried to kill me. My grandfather once took me into a forest and left me there, hoping that I would never be able to find the way home, or, even better, get eaten by wolves. Miraculously I walked home later that night. There was another instance when my grandfather tried to sell me to a human trafficker, but was stopped by my older sister.

As I grew older, they had given up on killing me, but not on torturing me. From a young age I was told that as a girl I would never be able to receive the same treatment that a boy would get. “You will grow up and then marry and forget about your parents. Feeding you is like feeding my neighbor.” My dad would say. “What’s the purpose of sending her to school? If she learns to read and write, she will just disobey her parents.” My grandfather would say. “Raising a daughter is like raising a poisonous snake. You raise her. You feed her. Then one day, she will bite you and kill you.”

Both my father and my grandfather were members of the Chinese National Communist Society. My American boyfriend once joked that being a Chinese National Communist is like being a National Socialist, but with the added advantage of being a Communist.

I remember when I was little, I once saw my father cooking chicken for a family meal. He had plucked off every feather of the poor bird, and then poured cooking oil on its skin, rubbing into its every nook and cranny. As it was still alive, he impaled a long, slender bamboo stick about the length of a small child through the chicken’s mouth all the way until it came out of its rear end, and then, he put the thing on open fire. Five minutes in, the poor thing was still twitching as fire crisped its skin. Its legs twirled as the flames burst over it.

Another traditional Chinese dish involved skinning live frogs, put the flayed skin into their own mouths and then cook them by tossing them in boiling water.

This earthly saint, adored by this devil, little suspecteth the false worshipper: for unstained thoughts do seldom dream on evil; birds never limed no secret bushes fear. So guiltless she secretly gives good cheer and reverend welcome to her princely guest, whose inward ill no outward harm expressed.

“Poor thing, what are we going to do to you now that you have given birth to a daughter?’

Never hiding the secret that my father was extremely disappointed that his second wife had given birth to another daughter, never forgetting the fact that now, having two children, he would not be allowed to have another child, due to the One Child Policy, my father took out his anger on my mother. And for the first time, I witnessed, that my sister wasn’t lying to me about what had happened to my father’s first wife.

There is something I need to explain about China’s One Child Policy. While urban areas are allowed to have only one child, in rural areas, a family is allowed to have a maximum of two children. After a family such as ours has had two children, and both female, our family would be put on a watch list, and an official would come to visit our home every month to check that we are not having more children. For any family that is caught having children after the maximum two, the wife will be arrested. She will be forced to give an abortion, and afterward, she would be involuntarily sterilized, and the husband will have to pay a hefty fine, if he ever want to see his wife again.

Well, there weren’t absolutely no options at all. You can try to bribe the officials to have a third try, but for poor peasant family like ours, the bribe would cost way too much money, even if my dad had sold both me and my sister into slavery he wouldn’t be able to afford the bribe needed to get a third try, and if we were indeed that rich, my dad would never needed to have to abide to the One Child Policy. He would have had dozens of Chinese concubines and have as many children as he wished, which is in fact what the really wealthy in China do.

During this period my dad resorted to drinking and after he got drunk, he came home and beat my mother. The beatings were extremely brutal. He would strip her completely naked, hung her wrists by the door frame, and whip all over her body with his leather belt. My sister and I would beg him to stop. I had witnessed first hand my sister throwing her own body over my mother’s to try to protect her from the whipping. Sometimes the crying would be so terrible that neighbors would wake up and come over to try to dissuade my father.

“All I ever wanted is to have a son! Why is Heaven forbidding me? Why is the world so unfair to me?” My father would stagger backward, burst out crying, and then crash on the ground.

It was a cold and moonless night. As usual my father had been bloody drunk and staggered home in tattered clothes. Not only was he a drunkard, but in the past few years became a complete hooligan and often got into brawls with others. His clothes were always torn and there was blood on his face, and also on his clothes. He kicked open the wooden door to our house and walked in in zigzag, almost like a crab. My mother, demure and gentle, sat quietly on the edge of the bed, scared to speak, while me and my sister were laying on our single bed and stared at our father. We had hoped that tonight we weren’t going to witness my mother’s getting another round of beating. “Bitch! Slut! You ignore me!” My dad started yelling. He loosened the belt around his trousers, swingingly it in his hand, while his trousers were about his ankles. My sister murmured to me: “Oh no, here we go again.”

My mother looked up, on the verge of tears, and said: “Have you been drinking again? I’m not ignoring you. I’m afraid to irritate you. Here. There’s blood on your face. Let me wipe it off for you.”

In stead of being grateful to my mother, my father continued to yell: “Bitch! Slut! You give me a son. Or I kill you!”

Then he swung his belt and lashed it across her. My mother screamed as she got off the bed and started to run, but my dad grabbed her, pushed her down on the bed, and pulled down her pants, revealing her naked white bubbly butt, which shone like silver under the moonlike lamp-light. Rounds and rounds of whipping on her naked butt ensued, occasioned by the grueling, wolfish, and desperate wailing of my poor mother.

My sighs like whirlwinds labor hence to heave thee. If ever man were moved with woman’s moans, be moved with my tears, my sighs and my groans. All which together, like a troubled ocean, beat at thy rocky and wrack-threatening heart, to soften it with their continual motion; for stones dissolved to water do convert. O, if no harder than a stone thou art, melt at my tears and be compassionate!

Her pleadings fell on deaf ears. The whipping continued from ten in the evening until midnight. Her screams had become tired and listless. Both my sister and I have been crying the entire time. Finally seeing my father stop, my sister timidly got out of bed, and with my both hands offered a cup of water to my dad and said: “Daddy. Please stop beating mother. You are tired. Let’s go to sleep.”

But all he ever said was: “You give me a son. You give me a son.”

“I will make money. We bribe the official. We—”

“Where you gonna make money? How?”

“I will quit school and make money. I will work. I promise. Daddy, I—”

His eyes suddenly brightened, with an evil askance. “What kind of work can a woman do that make lots of money? And quickly too.”

By this time my older sister had blossomed into a very beautiful young Chinese woman, much prettier than me. She had lily white skin like me, but also a perfect S-figure, with perfectly round breasts and upturned buttocks. I have always been an ugly duckling compared to my older sister.

“You go to work! I will arrange you for work. Tomorrow. You go to work. Quit school and go to work. You go work as a prostitute. You make lots of money. Then we pay bribe to official.”

My mother, half naked, her hands and feet tied to the bed post lying on the bed, all of a sudden started to struggle, “No! What kind of man you are, forcing your own daughter to be a prostitute.”

Thinking back now to the way my mother and my sister had been treated, I find it hard—nay, impossible—to deny that it had a very severe impact on how I turned out later on in my life, especially in regards to my relationship with men, and the type of men that I was bound to choose: it is no secret to all who knew me that I am deeply masochistic and sought out men who are sadistic, who are wiling and able to treat me as worthless, men who find no compunction in beating me, abusing me, and taking advantage of me, both physically and emotionally, and in the twisted and sick way that I was brought up, I have always derived immense pleasure and sexual gratification in such treatment. Deep inside I had always had the nagging suspicion that my mother and my older sister too had enjoyed being treated in this way, even though they would deny and abject that such a thing even existed, and will never openly discuss any of what I have written here, but in the buried deep of the subconscious, that interior ecstasy that sexual slavery procures them like sweats that pour out of their pores of their hair follicles as they are being tortured, shows itself underneath the layers of plastic emotional makeup that they wear.

I once asked my sister what they did to her in the “Red Chamber”, the brothel in British Weihaiwei where she had worked as a prostitute and she told me the following: “For the first three days, me and six other girls were locked in a single room without any food or water. Then on the third day, a group of men came in, and smeared honey all over their genitals. We had to lick the honey off their genitals. Later on we were given food to eat, but before we were able to eat, all the men came over and ejaculated into our food. We had to eat the food with their semen on it. The owner told us this is how they train the girls to give the best blowjobs, so that we naturally associate men’s penises with food and would not feel disgusted when swallowing semen. Most of the customers we serve are foreigners, westerners, middle-easterners, and sometimes even African, and in order to stretch out our pussies we had to wear dildos inside our pussies at all times. In addition every night we were ganbanged by as many Chinese men as possible, because most Chinese men had small dicks, so the owner said, we have to be able to take Chinese dicks without any problem and then we’ll be able to serve foreign customers. Many western customers demanded anal sex, and we had to learn to do that as well.”

Even though her training was harsh, the fruition of her labor was sweet and delicious. Within just a few months, my older sister had risen through the ranks to become “big red”, a term denoting the most popular and the hottest girl in the Red Chamber. She was even recognized as having the best blowjob skills among the girls. She said whenever she saw a man’s penis, she couldn’t help but be reminded of the honey that she had sucked when she was near starvation. “The mere sight of a man’s penis made me salivate. I sucked every cock as if it were my last meal.”

Combined with her extraordinary beauty, she was so well-beloved by so many customers that within a year, she had made so much money that our family was able to afford to build a new three-storied house and still had enough left to pay the bribes for my dad to have another child. Not to mention that some Japanese customer was so smitten by her charm that he wanted to marry her and take her to Japan and make her into a JAV actress.

Ay me, the bark pilled from the lofty pine, his leaves will wither and his sap decay; so must my soul, her bark being pilled away.

In order to bribe the official, you must invite them to dinner, make conversations, drink alcohol, flatter them, then and only then, will you be able to lavish your gift to them, which they will refuse to accept, and you have to insist, yes, please please accept this bribe as a gift, it’s sincerely just a gift and mean nothing else, and they will pretend that they have never done this before, that they are not as corrupt as you think and will act as if they were offended that you think so little of them, and then, you have to grovel on your knees, begging them, flattering them some more, obsequiously, subserviently, slavishly, and finally, yes finally!, they will reluctantly accept your bribe.

That day my father, my mother, and I spent the whole day, cleaning the house in preparation for the dinner with the regional officials in charge of the One Child Policy program.

Like VIP customers they arrived and my entire family went out to welcome them with flowers, me and my mom dressed in our best clothes. My mother wore a red skirt, symbolizing joy like a delicious, ripe fruit and I wore a lily white skirt, symbolizing my pure innocence.

The drinking started from 5 PM and did not stop even when it was past midnight. My mom and I had all been exhausted to the point of passing out, but the drinking continued. One official, a chubby middle-aged guy with a bald head, said that they should play a game, a ritualistic game played at the drinking tables that was like a glorified version of rock, paper and scissors that I played at the playground. I didn’t know and still don’t know what it was but the official said, instead of drinking, the loser should get spanked.

“Oh that sounds like fun. I think I’m gonna definitely lose. I’m not good at those games.”

Because my dad was trying to bribe those officials so he could have another child, he was not going to let those officials “lose face” by being spanked, so he already knew he was going to lose and he was going to lose on purpose. As soon as the game started, my dad had been losing. By the tenth round, the official with the pot belly said, “Maybe it’s time to pay up.”

“Do it to my daughter.”

“Okay, if that’s what you said.”

Like worthless insects that can be stomped and killed at their free will, women are to those Chinese men, and so it was no big deal to beat women, unlike it is in the west. My mother, my sister, and I had all been spanked frequently by our father and grandfather, so it was no big deal, at least that was what my dad said.

So, my American boyfriend liked to watch wrestling. I used to remember watching with him and there was a few instances where one guy will bend his opponent over at the waist, pull his arms backward and then lock his arms behind his back and push this opponent’s head into his crotch, so now the opponent’s ass is turned upward and there is no way for him to move out of this locked position.

Well, that was what the official with the pot belly did to me. He pushed my head into his crotch and my arms were twisted behind my back. Then another official, the tall one, flipped my white skirt up and pulled down my white panties so my lily white buttocks were completely revealed. And then, using a big wooden board, he swung with full force and hit my butt cheeks so hard that I felt a shock wave going through my flesh and into my pelvis. In about three seconds, whereas before those three seconds I had been quiet and tried my best to endure the shame, the humiliation, and embraced my self for the incoming pain, as I felt the scolding pain shooting up my nerves I screamed out in agony and my legs kicked wildly around so wildly that my shoes flew off, but the official with the pot belly had so firmly locked me in submission I was unable to struggle free. Then another hit landed. The pain was so unbearable my legs kicked so high my entire body flipped vertically upward and I was screaming and crying hysterically. I heard those men’s laughter as I screamed and cried. Then I felt somebody grabbing me by my bare feet—since my shoes had been kicked off in my wild struggle—so I stayed in position and another hit landed. My whole body went into convulsion and I felt I was on the verge of death. Everything before me started to blur and that was when I heard a woman’s pleading: “Please stop. For Heaven’s sake, please leave my daughter alone. Do it to me. Do it to me,” at which point I passed out from the pain.

The grey-eyed morn smiles on the frowning night, checkering the eastern clouds with streaks of light and fleckled darkness like a drunkard reels from the day’s path and Titan’s fiery wheels.

My father eventually got what he wished for. The official granted him a special waiver so he could get his wife pregnant, and as luck would have it, he did have a son, but he was never the same afterward. He became morose and taciturn, and though he hadn’t been drinking as much as he did before the birth of my little brother, now he just smoked lot. Like a pack of cigarettes a day. As if his mind was troubled, but troubled by what exactly.

I never knew exactly what had happened that evening after I passed out. By the time I woke up everyone was gone. I had seen a meat cleaver being left on the ground next to my bed. I asked my mother where did all the officials go and she pretended to not understand what I was talking about. They were trying to hide something from me, exactly what, and why, I suppose, I would never be able to know.

My sister was continuing to make so much money at the Red Chamber in British Weihaiwei. For those of you who are not familiar with the name, Weihaiwei used to be a British colony located in northeast China. It was used as a hubbub for commerce and today, even though no longer a part of the glorious empire, many foreigners still go there to do business with the Communist Chinese, who claim ownership to the patch of land like a greedy and evil patriarch, and so as commerce boomed, prostitution also boomed. It was a major sex tourist destination for rich foreigners from America, Europe, Japan, Singapore, the Middle East, and so many Chinese girls went there to sale their flesh.

It is interesting to note that all my family members have very white skin. My mother, me, and my sister all share this trait in common. And our lily white skin won us a lot of favors among the yellow-skinned Asians who adore white skin as a symbol of wealth, status, and beauty. Especially with my older sister who many people have compared her to a pale swan, because she is so white and so slender, and so often seemed so cold and melancholy.

So while the European and American customers didn’t care that much for my sister’s fair skin tone, many of her Japanese customers absolutely loved her and lavished her with gifts, tips and, eventually an expensive trip to Japan from which she never came back. Her Japanese husband called her “my fair love” and kept her there.

Even though my father, being a typical narrow-minded Chinese national communist, didn’t care so much about my sister’s marriage to a Japanese, he did enjoy all the money she had made to our family, and so he didn’t have much to complain. Besides, my sister was the one who enabled him to have a son, so literally it was my sister who gave birth to his son, sort of incestuous if you ask me, for him to be made a man out of his own daughter’s vice, and for my brother to take life from the shame of his sister.

PART II

“Stupid pigs die!” I still vividly remember those words spoken by my sister’s Japanese husband. At the time my Japanese was not as fluent as it is now, and those words were the first ones I learned when I arrived in Japan. So it’s true, you always learn swear words more quickly.

Some other Japanese words that I still vividly remember was when he called my sister “shallow, materialistic, gold-digging.” He had a special nickname for my sister. When I heard it for the first time, both me and my mother thought it was a nickname of endearment, like darling, sweetheart, etc. Only later did I learn that my sister’s nickname meant “Anal Slave”.

Initially, right after my sister married her Japanese husband and moved to Japan, my mother and father were of course very proud and bragged to our neighbors about the extraordinary wealth their son-in-law had, “He can buy all the potatoes in our farm! He has a TV and a computer in a every room!” Even though there were still strong lingering animosity between China and Japan due to World War II, money trumped all. Whorish and money-loving, some might say, but others just see it as practical. Besides, well, at least initially, her Japanese husband was indeed not only wealthy but very generous to my sister, even when she was still working in the Red Chamber. And whenever our neighbors walked by our house, which was by then a brand new three-storied house, they pointed and wagged their fingers and said, “This is built by the japs,” with many shades of jealousy and envy.

Sometimes they would also go home and berate their own wives: “Why are we not as rich? We have daughters too! Why don’t we send them to work in the big cities!” Everybody knew what kind of jobs my sister and many other poor peasant Chinese girls did in the big cities. It was an open secret … that my sister was a prostitute and catered almost exclusively to foreigners, mostly Japanese businessmen.

There was even a period of time when everybody in our province was actively planning to sell their daughters into brothels to make money, and human trafficking of girls was such a huge problem that the government had to intervene to put a stop to it. Even though prostitution is technically still illegal in China, it’s literally everywhere. Everywhere.

“Sister is doing this so you can go to college one day,” my sister told me. “Sister’s life is hard, so it can be sweet to you. You must not let me down.”

During those periods of time I tried my best to focus on my study, to prepare for gaokao, the college entrance exam, the hardest test in all of China, one that will determine one’s life for the rest of their lives. Those that make through it, will be on top of the world, and will be able to move to upper echelon of the Chinese society, and those that don’t, will forever be relegated to inferior positions in life.

But sometimes life just throws a curve ball at you that there is no way for you to prepare. My father had become very arrogant and some into a fight with the relative of a local official. He was emboldened because, he felt, “My son-in-law is a foreigner,” and so no one dared to touch him, but he forgot that he was still living in China, and in China, officials are like gods while a poor peasant like him were as worthless as an insect. No sooner had he done the deeds, he was arrested and detained without a trial. My mother had become very scared and tried to go to the police station, but being uneducated, the only thing she knew how to do was to make a scene and soon she was arrested for disorderly conduct. The lucky thing was that my mother had been released a few weeks later but our dad was never to be seen again. Rumor had it that he was being set up, because he had previously offended the officials at the One Child Policy Program, who held a grudge against him. And in China, there is the expression, “Officials take care of other officials. They are connected like open ducts.” If you offend one official, then another official from a totally different department will try to get back at you when they have the chance.

In the meanwhile, my mother—though she was often abused by my dad, she also realized that she could not go on without him, in a male-dominated society—did something that she was going to regret for the rest of her life. She went straight to the prefecture district above ours for an appeal and she told them that her husband had been wrongfully imprisoned and the officials were using the incident to take revenge on something that had happened before, even with allegations that the officials of the One Child Policy program were trying to rape her. Her stories were even published on newspapers. Except that she didn’t have any evidence. The details were blurry, but soon the newspaper ran articles that she had fabricated the entire story. Stories even further reveal that my father had sold his daughter into sexual slavery, and not only that, but he was involved in blackmailing, kidnapping of women and smuggling them to Japan for sex work. “It was all part of the scheme,” my mother to this day fumes. “If he had that kind of ambition, he would not have been that poor.” In an authoritarian society, with no independent press, simple poor folks like us had to take whatever the authorities throw at us, with no recourse. Not only did she not save her husband, but our family had become the black sheep of the entire village. Everybody shunned us. We had nowhere to go. That was when we decided to join our sister in Japan.

Alone, abandoned by her premonitions, fleeing the chill that was to accompany her until death, she sought a last refuge in the warmth of her oldest memories.

When my mother told my sister about her plans to move to Japan, my sister was very, very upset, and my mother was angry at her for not being understanding. “Your father is dead. The whole village thinks he was a rapist and a murderer. Nobody in the village even talks to us anymore. You have to get us to Japan. Please!” But it all became clear when we arrived in Japan. It turned out that my sister’s husband was a Japanese porn producer. He has been using my sister as a porn actress in their house.

Every week my sister had to produce five pornographic videos, so one video a day for every business day, as agreed upon in her contract, for a period of two years, and if she fail to do so, she would have to repay the production company 50 million yen in lost revenue. She has been given over ten different nicknames or aliases to be used for different scenes and for different producers. The scenes she has been acting in included bondage, enema, anal sex, waxing torture, whipping-torture, gang-bang, no-condom bare-shot, fellatio, amateur, exhibitionism, etc. There were scenes in which she would go to a person’s house, pretend she was his girlfriend, and perform “amateur” scenes under the name “anonymous slut”. In addition to forcing her to performe in pornographic videos, her husband has been renting her out to fans who wanted to have sex with her for a fee. This was also included as part of her contract to “interact with fans”, and whatever amount of “fee” was collected, her husband split between himself and the production company. I felt so pitiful for my sister and yet, when she saw that I was crying, she beamed at me with the sweetest smile, and said to me,”Don’t cry, little sister. This is nothing compared to what I had to endure while I was working the Red Chamber in China. I used to have sex with 200 guys in a single night. My life is good now.”

On the first day my mom and I came to my sister’s house, as we unpacked our things upstairs, my sister was being hogtied, and given an enema treatment in the living room. Then her “Master” dripped hot wax on her bare ass, and she screamed in pain and jumped to get away, he stepped his foot on her face and shouted at her in Japanese. Many years later, as I recollected those events, I finally understood what the man told my sister. “Behave. Endure. Or else your whole family will be punished.”

The next morning, when my mother and I woke up and came down for breakfast, we saw my sister being tied to a wooden post, completely nude, and her husband was shoving a dildo down her throat. My mother started to cry but my sister tried to comfort her and said, “Don’t worry, mommy. It’s all just an act. We all have make a living. It’s no more degrading than being a waitress or a doctor. I will fix you breakfast as soon as we finish shooting this last scene.”

An inner coldness which shattered her bones and tortured her even in the heat of the sun would not let her sleep for several months, until it became a habit. The intoxication of power began to break apart under waves of discomfort.

Being Chinese myself and still in the process of learning Japanese, very quickly I became acquainted with a Japanese citizen of Chinese descent. His mother was Chinese and father Japanese; he spoke both Chinese and Japanese fluently. After being together for nearly half a year, during which he not only taught me Japanese but helped me in so many ways in life, being grateful to his help, I established our relationship as boyfriend-girlfriend, by giving ways to his lust. At the time he was attending one of the best universities in all of Japan; not only was he extraordinarily smart, but very good-looking. I was a recent immigrant to Japan, coming from a rather poor family, living with my mom and sister and her husband, and I felt a tremendous sense of shame and inferiority before him.

In order to maintain a deeply unequal relationship with a man of so much higher social status compared to myself, I never dared to say “No” to him and compromised in every way imaginable. However, I was still traumatized. I told him that I had a previous boyfriend while I was living China, after which, he said, I must confess to him all the sins that I have committed prior to meeting him. He was bothered that I was not a virgin, and to him, “Virginity is very important to a woman. It’s a symbol of her chastity, her purity and her innocence. You lost your virginity to a Chinese man. That is an affront to me as your current boyfriend. It’s a disgrace to my lineage.”

At one time he even lamented: “My poor fate! My girlfriend didn’t even give me her first time. Why is my life so full of suffering?”

I asked him if he ever had a girlfriend before me and without much hesitation or any affectation of hypocrisy he told me he had three girlfriends before meeting me, and then he went on to explain: “But it’s different for a man. For men, there’s no such a thing as virginity. In fact, it’s considered a pride, an honor, that a man is able to copulate with as many females as possible. On the other hand, for a woman, losing her virginity is a disgrace. It’s shameful. After losing her virginity, she becomes nothing but a slut. She is no different than a whore. Any man can now use her as a cum dump. She is seen as dirty as a public toilet in the eyes of men.” Then, he even proceed to show me a picture of a naked Asian woman, bound and blindfolded, with piece of cloth covering her sex, that said “public toilet” on it. He said, “Since you are not a virgin, then you are a slut, and this is the proper way to treat you from now on.”

After much arguing, as my whole face flushed deep red, he went on to say, “You did not give your virginity to me; you have disgraced yourself and your whole family. You should atone for your sins.”

Despite of my continued deference and submission to him. gradually, I came to discover, he became even more obsessed with my previous boyfriend. He asked me in great detail about my sex life, and made me swear to him that I was telling the truth or some disastrous events will unfold upon my family. He seemed especially infuriated by the fact that he was Chinese, even though he himself was half-Chinese. One time he told me, he felt disgusted by that fact that my previous boyfriend was a “dirty Chinese man.”

In order to punish me, “because you have sinned against me,” he said, I would need to obey him absolutely, and ever since, he started making me call him “Master” (主人様), and stopped referring to me as his girlfriend, but used such names as “bitch,” “slut”, “slave”, etc., even in front of his friends.

One day, he demanded that I have the words “Chink Slave” tattooed to my body, with the tattoo session videotaped. “Go to the tattoo shop. Take off all your clothes when you get the tattoo. I don’t care who sees your naked body. You are not a virgin, so you shouldn’t care anymore. Get the tattoo artist to videotape it or have yourself videotape it and then send the video to me.” I wanted an explanation and he said “I love to see the painful expression on your face as you endure pain and torture to demonstrate to me your absolute devotion to me, through your painful and humiliating act of mutilation, in the form of this degrading tattoo.”

Ever since, I have ceased to feel any sense of dignity as a human being in front of him. I have been transformed into his property, his slave. He even brought a dog collar and a leash for me to wear at his home.

I was his full time servant, maid, and sex toy. I cooked, cleaned, washed his clothes and complied to his every depraved, perverted sexual demand imaginable. Saying “No” was never an option and if I ever showed the slightest reluctance, he would administer punishment to me, each one more terrifying and more deviant than the last one. To give you an example. He once had me tied and flicked his fingers on my eyeballs to teach me a lesson about obedience. Afterward I had trouble seeing straight for an entire week.

One time, he and his classmates came to our apartment and apparently I had said something that offended him—perhaps it was an impolite use of a pronoun, since at the time my Japanese was still conversational and not fully fluent, and in Japan, being impolite is considered a grave offense, especially for someone inferior to offend someone superior—he told me to slap myself in the face. I was highly embarrassed, being in front of his classmates and I told him I couldn’t understand what he was saying. Once his classmates left, he threatened to report me to the Japanese Immigration Bureau for immigration fraud and have me, my mom and my sister all deported back to China. In order to appease him, I knelt before him and slapped myself hard across the face. But in stead of pleasing him, as I had expected, he then said, with the querulous touchiness peculiar to Japanese men, “So you did understand me. You have lied to me once again. You are a very typical Chinese. Dishonest, full of fraud and deceit, just like your whorish sister and mother. Go wait for me in bed. You need more punishment tonight.”

Living with him had become pure torment. Like a sailor who sat in a small boat in the boundless raging sea, surrounded on all sides by heaving mountainous waves, I quietly suffered and endured in the middle of a world of horror, as though I was asleep in a nightmare from which I was never able to awake. The initial love and romance that I had so cherished had been turned into hell fire. The sight of his naked body filled me with trepidation and fear as he repeated his assault upon me and I felt disgusted, I felt angry. I felt raw emotional hatred when he ejaculated inside me.

I tried to leave him, but he said if I ever leave him, he would commit suicide. He said he had fallen in love with me, in the deepest love he has ever experienced. He could not possibly go on living without me, he told me, with a sincerity that made my heart melt and my blood coagulate.

In the days that I escaped from his apartment I shut myself in my bedroom in my sister’s house and wept an inconsolable weeping that lasted for days, the cause of which I had kept well-hidden from my family. I had always been raised to be a cordial and warm-hearted person, but deep inside I always had a solitary and impenetrable heart which I had allowed no one to peer into … until I met him, that is. No one else was ever able to understand me. No one else in the world. Repeatedly I told myself those lies as my tears melted into my pillow case. On a rainy afternoon, as my mother and her friends—a group of Chinese women all married to Japanese men—chattered away in the dining room on the most recent gossips, gradually I lost the thread of conversation and slipped into a delirious netherworld of melancholic dreams and a sudden attack of anxiety overcame me. I walked across the dining room, and into the bathroom at the end of the kitchen, and locked myself inside and, in the midst of trying to cover my hysterical crying, I lowered my head into the toilet and started to drink the water out of the bowl.

Fascinated by an immediate reality that came to be more fantastic than the vast universe of her imagination …

I was confounded by my own behavior at the time. Looking back now, I think—according to my psychologist, and this was her analysis of my behavior—it broke out as an reflection of my repressed urge, to be the public urinal that my Master had always intended for me to become, and so when I saw the toilet in the bathroom, the image of myself as a public urinal flashed before my mind and I acted in accordance with my repressed urge.

I could not bear the taste of disgust in my mouth, but I persisted. I drank the entire bowl of toilet water and I was filled with an eerily confused feeling of pleasure and rage, as an unbridled satisfaction for humiliation overcame me. After I drank the water I started to lick the ceramic rim of the toilet and made a point to lick up every speck of dust and refuse. Big drops of tears rolled out of my eyes and touched the ceramic and I licked my own tears. I thought I had realized at that point that he was the only man who deserved this show of degradation. I thought I had come to the conclusion at the time that the image of him peeing into the toilet at another location was transubstantiating to me the warmth of his bodily fluid through the aquatic savor that left a humiliating aftertaste in my mouth and a sediment of peace in my heart.

I could no longer resist the longing and sadness. After two weeks I went back to my tormentor to apologize to him knowing full well that he had more deviant torment awaiting for me when I returned. He told me that I must beg him like I would beg for my life. I crawled before him in the lobby of his apartment complex and I kissed the ground that he walked on without a care in the world that I was making a scene and strangers were staring at me. In his intoxication of rage he sought to aggravate still further the wounds that he had inflicted upon me as he dragged me into the men’s room and ordered me to drink his piss. I did as I was told, but then, after put his semi-erect penis back into his trouser and zipped up his fly, he said, “As a descendant of the honorable Japanese lineage, I cannot possibly keep this degrading promiscuity with a tainted chink who had lost her virginity to a non-Japanese man.” In a harsh and cutting tone I told him it was he who had been threatening me with suicide if I didn’t come back to him; it was he who had been begging me to come back; it was he who threatened to kill my parents if I didn’t come back; it was he who had threatened to report me to the Japanese Immigration Bureau; it was he who made me swear that mother and sister will all die horrible deaths if I didn’t do as he demanded. Drunk with this melodrama, he began to hit me all over my body as I could not deny the satisfaction of seeing the amazement, the anxiety, the grief, the rage, and the mirth that my unconventional courage to defy him for the first time in my life caused him to lose his temper and, perhaps soon, his sanity, and the resulting punishment that I deserved and received transformed itself into a translucent alabaster of hatred and love in which I was lost and of which I’m still incapable of communicating into the English language, despite of leaving Japan eventually and coming to live in the United States for the rest of my life.

“Repent and suffer for your sins”—that was his motto for me. An unending need for redemption. A perpetual list of sins for which I would never be able to atone for in an eternity. Because to him, I would never be able to fully atone for my original sin, that I was not a virgin when I became his girlfriend. So I must repent and suffer and obey his every command, comply to his every degrading and humiliating demand.

In order to prevent me from leaving him again, he started to videotape all of our sex sessions and he said, that if I ever tried to leave him again, he would have all those videos sent to my family, my classmates, and shared on the internet. In total, there was more than one hundred such videos in existence, including videos of me drinking his urine, being whipped, licking his feet, etc. I thought back to my sister and I felt that through what had been happening to me had made me infinitely more connected to her than ever before. Deep in the burrow of my heart, even though I pitied my sister, I, perhaps, had also looked down on her because of her profession, but, at that point, I realized. I was no better than her. I was perhaps even worse! Because I was not being honest.

His level of sadism was rising in parallel with his adrenaline level. After I went back to living with him, he said he had more plans for me, and beaming with pride, he told me he would have my nipples pierced and studded with large golden rings, to punish me for being an unchaste woman. In his notes I found that he also planned on having my nose pierced and put in a septum ring. “Then I would have your vagina sewn together so you would never be able to cheat on me again.” He even showed me pornographic videos in which those procedures were being done to other women, and I shuddered at the thought that one of those women would turn out to be my sister or my mother, and he told me, he wanted to turn me into one of them eventually.

Whenever I think back to those things that he had said now, I still feel delirious with fear, anticipation, and trembling, and yet at the time, I remember, when I looked at him in disbelief, I saw nothing in his face other than an ineffable joy which seemed to have come from paradise. I realized that my torment and degradation had brought him a super-terrestrial joy, that his morbidly sadistic, depraved treatment of me brought him nothing less than a voluptuous pleasure corresponding to an immortal and compensating glory that glowed in his face. For him, my suffering was his ecstasy.

Despite the numerous times that he had threatened me with suicide, it was me, I thought to myself at the time, “who will succeed in killing myself.” One time, I tried to commit suicide by slitting my wrist. My second attempt was by overdosing on sleeping pills. I dreamed that I woke up in another world.

“Mommy, baby want a hug.” I still remembered the text he sent me that morning.

“Baby, mommy will atone for her sins once and for all tonight. Mommy will receive her ever-lasting punishment tonight and be finally cleansed of her sins.” I woke up, text-ed him back and committed suicide.

And then I fell asleep again, and then I reawakened again, albeit for a few short moments, long enough to hear the creaking of the wooden floor, and to open my eyes to stare at the shifting kaleidoscope of darkness, to savor, in a momentary glimmer of consciousness, the sleep of death which lay heavy upon my flesh, the whole of which formed a part of my entire being, and whose insensibility I soon found myself return to share.

It was too lonely in death, the yearning for the living so intense in death, the need for company so pressing, so terrifying the nearness of that death within death, that I ended up loving life, holding unto life so dearly as I held unto my mother’s arms.

so the desire which directs our actions descends toward them, but does not reach back to itself, whether because, being unduly utilitarian, it plunges into the action and disdains all knowledge of it, or because it looks to the future to compensate for the disappointment of the present, or because the inertia of the mind urges it to slide down the easy slope of imagination, rather than to climb the steep slope of introspection.

Sometimes as I lay awake in bed, I could see my father being tortured in prison, except, when I got closer, I realized it wasn’t my father. It was my sister re-enacting the scenes of torture in her porno. Sometimes I feel as if I was dead and and I went over to the other side of the world and over there I talked to my sister and saw her still making pornos in Japan.

We all sort of knew in the back of our minds that the marriage between my sister and her Japanese husband was a sham, not in the sense that they weren’t having sex or making money, or that there was no genuine love, but in the sense that whatever love there was it has been plastered over and strengthened or, perhaps, ill-founded by money and an unbalanced power dynamics. After she obtained her permanent residence in Japan, she divorced her husband and, of course, her husband wasn’t happy. He cursed at her, cursed at my mother and me, because, according to I know, he had given a substantial sum of money to my sister, and even had given her a residential property; not only that, but my sister had made millions of yen from the Japanese pornographic company, but that, apparently, wasn’t enough for her; she sued the company for exploitation and the company decided to settle the case and she got another lump sum payment. So our family was once again able to live a relatively comfortable life all thanks to my older sister who has always been the breadwinner of our entire family.

In the three-year period since our family moved to Japan, not only did we repay our debt, but my mother and sister—infused with an entrepreneurial spirit that would later shock and awe my white American boyfriend, when I retold my story to him—started our very own brothel in the red light district of Japan. The front operated as “Chinese Massage Parlor”, the walls outside featured beautiful and scantily-dressed Chinese girls kneeling on the floor and smiling, and once you go in, you would be led to a large hallway with ornate decoration like a five-star hotel, and you would hear the catlike feminine voices of girls eagerly cajoling customers to have sex with them in broken Japanese interspersed with constant bickering in Chinese.

“Good blowjob. Master. Me. Give blowjob. Good blowjob. Master. Very comfortable for you.”

Customers are politely referred to as Masters.

“Little Jin, you are so desperate. Haven’t you had enough dicks to suck last night? Let me have this customer, will you? O-Master. Me. Good blowjob. Me horny. So horny.”

“Hey Jie-jie (old sister), talking about me being desperate? Looks like you are more desperate than me since you haven’t had a customer in the last two days. With your looks you would be standing in the street flashing your pussy at strangers and still no one will be wanting you. Ha! Me. Master. Me.”

“Eh! Bitch. O-Master. Me cheap. Me full service. No condom. Bareback. O-Master.”

“Jie-jie, you might as well be offering yourself for free. Me. No condom also. Master. Me. Shaved pussy. Master. I show you now. Master.”

“Why don’t you go out in public completely naked and beg for people to fuck you already? You desperate little slut. O-master. Please. Me. Me horny. Me so horny. O-master. Big dick. Please.”

Even though they were all prostitutes, they looked down on and ridiculed each other mercilessly. And this was just a very typical conversation that they would have between themselves. Sometimes argument would even lead to them physically assaulting each other.

Many of them were my sister’s former colleagues and acquaintances from Weihaiwei. They arrived Japan on tourist visas and, once they were here, they would start working while simultaneously be on the look-out for potential Japanese men to marry. Many ended up marrying their customers. In about just six months after launching the brothel, there would be hundreds of Chinese girls waiting for customers on every given night and they offered unlimited varsities of sex as long as you had the money to pay for it.

The business operated solely based on referral basis. And for every newly referred customer, the first time was completely free, provided that you must have had a referral from another customer. The guarantee was that, there was no way you would only visit once. When I told this to my white American boyfriend, he was amazed and extremely tempted and even started to beg me to introduce him to the place. Unfortunately, the business was only open to Japanese customers and do not admit foreigners, not even Chinese, despite the fact that the prostitutes themselves were Chinese. When he asked me why, the best explanation I could think of was “It was just because they were Japanese. It has something to do with the national character of the Japanese. They are different in that you can do it with them in this way and trust that they would not take advantage of you or try to exploit it for their own selfish interest. They have to be Japanese for this business practice to work.”

Sweet, gay, innocent moments to all appearance, and yet moments in which there gathers the unsuspected possibility of disaster, which makes the amorous life the most precarious of all, that in which the unpredictable rain of sulphur and brimstone falls after the most radiant moments, whereupon, without having the heart or the will to draw a lesson from our misfortune, we set to work at once to rebuild upon the slopes of the crater from which nothing but catastrophe can emerge. I was as carefree as those who imagine their happiness will last. It is precisely because this tenderness has been necessary to give birth to pain—

I woke up three days later in the hospital with my mother besides my bed.

It was during this period that I reflected upon all that had happened since our family moved to Japan. The pleasure, so long lost, of being with him was intoxicating, and the suffering, from the pleasure of our love, was inseparable; like a pitiless eagle whose beak was rending my heart, and in whose claws my tortured mind was unable to escape for even an instant, love had driven me to madness.

I reflected with shame and a creepy bitter sweetness upon the time he “interrogated” me for my alleged sexual intransigence prior to becoming his girlfriend. He had me sit in a wooden chair, and placed a lamp that was shining directly into my face, while a video-recorder was placed on a table opposite of me documenting everything I said. He was wearing a black police uniform and waving a stick in his hand like it was a sword, then, he asked me “regarding your your ex-boyfriend, the Chinese guy,” he sneered when he said it, “to whom you lost your virginity, how big was his penis? Remember, if you lie to me, you will swear, all your family will die a miserable death. Do you understand?”

And he would continue: “Did you engage in oral sex with him?” And, “in what sex position did he fuck you? You must be completely honest with me or I will shove this stick in your asshole, you Chinese whore.” And, “Look at the camera, and tell everyone that will be watching this, how wet were you when you lost your virginity to your little Chinese ex?”

The interrogation went on and on and I became agitated and horrified with pain at his jealousy at an unknown person—I felt like I was watching an eagle dipping its beak into the bright blood of its prey as I sat there, motionless, being forced to confess to my sins.

After the “interrogation” he would tied me up and have sex with me and he would say things like “My Japanese cock is so much bigger than your little Chinese ex, isn’t it?” My whole body went limp like a wounded deer accepting surrender while his penis was pumping in and out of me. “If you ever lie to me I will teach you the language of my whip.”

“Silly child, why would you do such a foolish thing? The light is right at the end of the tunnel. Do you not remember all the suffering we have already gone through while we were trying to escape from China? There are no hurdles that we cannot overcome now.” The soft and compassionate voice of my mother interrupted the incessant torment of my recollection and my cheeks were refreshed by new streaks of tears.

Many years later, after we emigrated from Japan to America, my mother told me that on the night before my second suicide attempt she had a nightmare, and she dreamed seeing me asleep in my bed, and blood was running out of my body like rivers, and it poured onto the floor, slithered across the living room, the hallway, crept underneath the door and like a flood roared through the streets in broad daylight. Then she woke up and followed the trails of blood to find me laying unconscious on my bed, just as in her nightmare.

PART III

Chinese Woman becomes a Prostitute to save her husband, ends up getting herself killed.

True Crime Documentary

Chinese Woman becomes a Prostitute to save her husband, ends up getting herself killed.

original source in Chinese: http://news.sina.com.cn/s/2002-02-27/1105487281.html

During one of her many, and frequent arguments with her wimpish Chinese husband, she wailed and screamed that she would sell one of her kidneys so they would have money and not to live this egregious life of abject poverty and humiliating captivity.

In order to make money, according to her friends, she never refused any customer and often did everything to please them just for some extra cash. And yet, contrary to what the reader might think, she did not receive any gratitude for her hard work; she and her husband frequently bickered, and constantly fought, violently, viciously, and eventually, fatally. In fact, her husband had become involved romantically and sexually with one of her coworkers, another Chinese prostitute, and his justification was that, “Since you are having sex with many strangers every night, what’s with me having sex with one of your coworkers?”

During one of their many, many vicious arguments, she started to lose control and yelled at him with his real name, the name associated with a murder case seven years ago; and, frightened, and losing his own mind, he choked her and did not let go until she stopped breathing. Afterward, in order to cover up his crime, he had cut off her entire face so the police would not be able to recognize her.

The murder that had happened seven years ago was the reason she fell in love with her husband. She was 18 years old at the time, and, due to her beauty, she was harassed by several gangsters. The man who was to become her husband saw what was happening, and decided to get involved. During the ensuing fracas, he used a knife and stabbed one of the gangsters to death.

They fled and, enamored by his heroism, she lost her virginity to him. Together they started a life on the run, using aliases, hiding from broad daylight and only coming out to scavenge for money and food at night. Like rats they lived at the very bottom of the brutal and inhumane Chinese society, frightened, ostracized, estranged from home.

They have a daughter together, and that daughter was sent back to live with her grandparents. Her husband has another son with her coworker, and it was his relationship with her coworker that pushed her to the edge.

She became fiercely jealous of his womanizing, and his betrayal. He became extremely resentful of her being a prostitute. “Your cunt has been used by so many strangers. Your mouth reeks of cum. You cum slut. You cum dump. You disgusting whore.”

She had many opportunities to leave him. She was not a murderer. At most, she was complicit in his crime. And because of her extraordinary beauty, she had been offered to become the wife of many of her customers, and many times, even foreign men from western countries offered to take her out of China, and yet she refused. “So you prefer to live like a sex slave?” They asked her, and she nodded, for love. She only thought of her husband when customers gnarled her breasts with their teeth, and stretched her cunt which once, she promised, only belonged to her husband.

“Many of the foreign men have very large penises. Having sex with them feels like losing my virginity every time.” She complained. “My husband won’t even touch me anymore. He says my vagina is too loose. He only has sex with Feng (her coworker with whom her husband has a son). But I need the money. My husband needs the money. He killed a man for me. My love for him is forever. The only way I will leave him is if he kill me.”

上海小紅樓

Some men can only dream, and some men pursue their dreams.

Mr. Zau (赵富强) was such a man who had a dream and pursued what he dreamed.

Popularly known as the “Little Red House”, derived from the classic Chinese novel Chamber of Red Dreams, the apartment complex–otherwise ordinary and without remarkable distinctions from the exterior–situated at Shang Hai Shi, Yang Pu Qu–had over the course of 20 years housed over 100 different young Chinese females, all living as the personal sex slaves to Mr. Zau.

They were also coerced to have sex with Mr. Zau’s customers, friends, and high ranking officials of the Chinese Communist Party. And Mr. Zau had pocketed all the money they had earned.

Any woman who dared to rebel, disobey or protest were dealt with threats, violence, corporal punishment and unlawful imprisonment inside his self-made cells in the otherwise exorbitantly decorated interior of the Little Red House. In one form of punishment,the female slaves were tattooed with the words “Personal Use by Mr. Zau” above their vaginal openings.

In 2000, Mr. Zau was still a poor broke man with an ordinary job, and an ordinary life. But in 2017, he became one of the most powerful man in Shanghai and had accumulated a wealth over 1 billion in RMB.

Not only did he coerce his sex slaves into prostitution alone, but he also started business in selling their eggs. Many of them were given fertilization shots to produce as many eggs as possible, which he then sold on the black market. One sex slave had been coerced to have as many as ten such shots in the course of 20 days. Her belly became bloated and consequently became infertile due to complications.

And though many of those sex slaves had chances to escape, nearly all of them, according to the Chinese source, were “brainwashed” and actually enjoyed the lifestyle that Mr. Zau had provided for them. Three of them were nominally married to Mr. Zau and a dozen more had given birth to Mr. Zau’s children, and to this day they love their children dearly, even after Mr. Zau’s death sentence in 2020.

He lived the life of an emperor. And the women whom he kept as his sex slaves loved him.

A woman doesn’t care about your race, your height, or your looks, but only your power. If you are a man with a vision, and the will to implement your vision, then you ought to have no compunction in regard to the weak masses, or of being viewed by the larger society as “evil”, “immoral”, “bad”, or “criminal”, and then you can conquer any woman. Think of all the white women who date black criminals. Think of all the women who write love letters to murderers and rapists. Think of all the Japanese schoolgirls professing their love to Japanese soldiers after the conquest of Nanking. Think of Genghis Khan and all his descendants today. What is evil? Weakness is evil. What is good? Anything that increases your power is good.

Source:

https://zh.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E8%B6%99%E5%AF%8C%E5%BC%B7%E6%A1%88

https://www.163.com/dy/article/GQ9VCLOV05449T49.html

https://www.sohu.com/a/505508677_639898

Dumplings made of human flesh

“… one lives a super-normal life, like the Chinese. That is to say, one is unnaturally gay, unnaturally healthy, unnaturally indifferent. The tragic sense is gone; one lives like a flower, a rock, a tree, one with Nature and against Nature at the same time. If your best friend dies you don’t even bother to go to the funeral; if a man is run down by a street car right before your eyes you keep on walking just as though nothing had happened; if a war breaks out you let your friends go to the front but you yourself take no interest in the slaughter. So on and so on.”

~ Henry Miller, Tropic of Cancer

It is said that there is something inherent in the nature of the Chinese, the cold, pathological indifference to the suffering of their fellow human beings, their own compatriots, even their own neighbors as long as whatever is happening does not concern themselves or their immediate family members. Western observers only get glimpses of it and mention it in passing, sporadically in their writings, but it is the Chinese themselves who are the most virulent critics of their own salient national trait. Xu Lun, the leading figure of modern Chinese thought, famously described this sociopathic apathy of the Chinese as the tradition of cannibalism, a result of rigid, deep-rooted and cannibalistic Confucianism.

Whatever the merits of Xu Lun’s remark might be, there are indeed many instances of cannibalism throughout Chinese history, and many on such large scale that it’s difficult for a westerner to fathom its scale.

During the period of five dynasties and ten nations (五代十国), it is said that one particular nation state in north-east China captured 10,000 concubines from the Sima royalty’s palace to be sold as sex slaves, and as the victorious army marched back to its northern capital, food shortage became a serious problem, and the soldiers began eating those concubines. Once the army had returned to its capital, only 5,000 concubines were still alive. The rest were all eaten by soldiers.

In north-western region of China during the same period, a nation state famously kept “two-legged sheep” for its army. “Two-legged sheep” were human females captured during war. When there was no battle to be fought, the soldiers ravished those females for pleasure to boost their morale, and when they became hungry, they cooked them for food.

During the interregnum between Ming and Qing dynasty, several warlords ruled China, and one particular man, by the name of Zhang Xianzhong, was legendary for his level of cruelty, even by Chinese standards. He kept thousands of concubines in his palace. They were not allowed to wear anything to cover their genitals and walked around in his palace half-naked, with beautiful clothing on the upper half of their bodies, and completely naked below the waist. This was to ensure that whenever Zhang was in the mood, he would have unimpeded access to their vagina. After he had sex with one of his many concubines, he sliced off her breasts and vagina, cooked and ate them.

As I lay on my bed and listened to countless stories of cruelty beyond the limits of human imagination narrated coldly, objectively by historians, I felt my limbs numb and I was unable to move, partially paralyzed by fear, partially stunned by those incredulous historical records. Surely, even if those things were made up, who would have the imagination to make those stuffs up? So they must have been real!

There were many, many more: such as how, after capturing a city, Zhang would gather all the females in the city, cut off their breasts, vagina, and feet, and pile them into different piles, so there would be several small mounds made of human parts. Then he would bring his favorite concubine over and let her observe with him. When she said, “it was so pretty, specially those women’s dainty feet.” Zhang said, “but your feet are the prettiest,” and proceeded to cut off her own feet and placed them on top of the mound made of human feet. Those human parts all became Zhang’s troops’ food ration.

Speaking of cannibalism, one cannot possibly omit the story from Chinese classic literature Outlaws of the Marsh, a story known to all ethnic Chinese, in China, within the greater China region, and in overseas Chinese communities. A restaurant hotel uses human flesh to make dumplings for travelers. Wusong, the main protagonist of the story, finds a human nail inside the dumpling.

As always, fiction is merely an imitation of real life. There has been at least ten reported cases of restaurants using human flesh in modern China since 1960. The problem is, CCP (the Chinese Communist Party) refuses to release details on any of the cases, so what we are left with are merely urban legends, rumors, hearsays, and no real accountable sources to back up any of the stories.

One account of cannibalism verified and reported in the western hemisphere that I know of is by Nicholas Kristof of the New York Times. According to a Japanese soldier stationed in Manchuria during World War II, there was a Chinese street peddler who sold human flesh as pork. “I brought some pork from this Chinese street peddler and ate it. Then someone told me it was actually human flesh. I vomited nonstop for an entire day,” according to Nicholas Kristof’s recount of the Japanese soldier’s recount of the event.

For what is worth, according to stories posted on the internet, allegedly a dumpling restaurant in Beijing served human flesh in 1982.

The story goes as follows:

A customer has an argument with the restaurant owner. The owner accidentally kills the man. Without any place to hide the corpse, the owner decides to butcher the remains, slices all the flesh off its bones, mixes them in with pork to use as fillings for his dumplings. The taste of human flesh turns out to be so delicious that the restaurant business is booming. Many customers especially likes the taste of those fresh, sweet-tasting meat inside the dumplings. “Not as greasy as the other pork.” “More tender than regular pork.” “I don’t know what kind of meat you are putting in those dumplings, but it’s so damn good!” The customers allegedly tells the restaurant owner. Because the taste of human flesh is apparently so delicious the owner of the restaurant goes on to kill several more people to make his human-fleshed dumplings, including a husband and wife from Xian, and a factory worker from the outskirt of Beijing. Eventually a medically doctor eats his dumplings and felt something odd. “Why does it smell like dead people?” The medical doctor allegedly says to a neighbor. According to the story, because the doctor deals with corpses all the time, he is able to detect the distinct smell of human corpse that no other people is able to detect. The doctor calls the police, and the police raids the restaurants and finds a human leg in the freezer.

Another restaurant that used human flesh for dumpling fillings allegedly took place in Chifeng, inner Mongolia, 1988. A couple’s daughter died and was about to be cremated. Before cremation, the mother accidentally touched her daughter’s remains inside the body bag, and felt it was empty. She felt weird and asked the staff to open the bag for her to see her daughter’s remains one more time and was shocked to find out that someone had sawed off her daughter’s legs. She called the police. After investigation, the police discovered that the staff in the funeral home had sold her daughter’s legs to a local restaurant. The restaurant, one of the oldest and most well-known in all of Chifeng, coincidentally, also sells dumplings, and was famous especially for its dumplings. Further investigation revealed that the restaurant owner had been buying human flesh from the staff of the funeral home and using them as dumpling fillings for over seven years.

1960, Tianjin: A local restaurant was famous for its dumplings. The owner was Mr. Wang, a middle-aged bachelor. A perpetual loner, he came to Tianjin and lived in a single apartment by myself, without any relatives in the city. According to Mr. Wang, he had a wife before but his wife ran off with another man but “I feel content living by myself now.”

Everyday he started to made dumplings at four in the morning, begun to sell his dumplings by six, and by eight o’clock, all his dumplings would be sold out. People would fight over one another to buy his dumplings. Everyday he only made 500 dumplings, never hired any helper, and never had any apprentice. People thought his secret recipe was handed to him by his ancestors and he had no intention to let anyone else outside to know.

One day a woman came to the police station, complaining that after eating Mr. Wang’s dumplings, her son nearly choked to death with a small fragment of a bone inside the dumplings. The police dismissed the woman, merely said that the staff from the sanitation department would give Mr. Wang a warning. An elderly police officer took over the bone and said the bone looked weird. “It doesn’t look like an animal bone.” At his insistence, the bone was taken for forensic examination and when the result came back, the whole police department dropped its jaw to the flower.

The bone turned out to be the fragment of a human toe bone.

At Mr. Wang’s place, the police unearthed a basement filled with the remains belonging to seven different people. According to confession, Mr. Wang killed beggars who came to his house begging for food, then dismembered their bodies and used their flesh to make dumplings. He said he has also eaten his own dumplings made of human flesh, and he didn’t feel anything out of the ordinary. “Besides, nobody ever got sick from eating my dumplings, and I’ve been using human flesh to make my dumplings for over two years.”

Nanjing beauty turned into KFC

September 2014

Nanjing, the provincial capital of Jiangsu province, China, the ancient capital to six different dynasties, witness to countless historical atrocities, is today one of the largest city in Southern China, on par in terms of GDP to Suzhou, Hangzhou, and Shanghai.

Eerily similar to our story about Dao Aiching, our story begins with a beautiful young female being carved into many pieces …

At Nanjing’s famous Toulejia Food Street, cleaning staff noticed something strange. Over a period of three consecutive days, enormous amount of cooked meat was discarded in the industrial-sized common garbage dump. Given that the location was a food street, clustered by dozens of restaurants, many of which would throw out hundreds of pounds of processed food in a single day, strange it may be, but still within bounds of reason.

However, within the cleaning staff was Mr. Gao, a Vietnam war veteran.

According to Mr. Gao:”I have seen thousands of corpses. I have seen people being hacked, burned, and maimed. And when I saw the meat inside the bag, I just knew it was human.”

The large plastic garbage bag containing the cooked meat had loose seams and a piece of it fell out out of the bag. It was a large chunk of well-cooked meat, with ketchup smeared all over the smooth surface. As Mr. Gao picked it up and was about to toss it back into the bag, he paused and said to the other staff: ”What kind of meat is it? It’s not chicken. It’s not pork. It looks like a human thigh.”

As the realization shocked Mr. Gao, he immediately called the police.

The police arrived within a few minutes and confirmed that they were indeed human flesh.

In total, police recovered two dozen garbage bags all filled with hundred pieces of human flesh. Forensic examination indicated that flesh has not only been cooked, but also frozen prior to being cooked, and might have been frozen and cooked, frozen again, and then cooked again.

“The entire process would have taken at least ten days,” according to the police report.

Putting the pieces together, forensic investigators identified the remains of a young female in her early twenties. No human head was recovered. Her body was white and smooth. Her breasts were buxom and her nipples perky. Her hips were wide and rotund.

The perpetrator seemed to have no knowledge of human anatomy. Much of the cutting was done by brute force with no particular skill.

Surveillance camera revealed a person in dark clothing, wearing a baseball cap and a mask over his face, throwing those plastic bags at the garbage dump.

There was one piece of fingerprint on the rope tying the bag, but a search for the fingerprint returned no result, indicating the perpetrator did not have any prior criminal history.

The police focused on the fact that remains had been frozen, and searched for all transactions involving freezers. However, given the mega-city status of Nanjing, it was impossible to trace every single buyer of freezers over a period of several months. It lead to nowhere.

Particularly puzzling was the fact that no human head was recovered anywhere.

And who is the young female? No one reported any young woman missing that fitted the description of the victim.

The case became cold for two years.

October 2016, a couple in their late forties came to Nanjing from Yanchengshi, the rural area of Jiangsu, and reported that their daughter, Hee Chingching, has been missing for two years. After identification, the remains indeed matched that of Hee Chingqing. At the time of her death, Ching was 20 years old, and was working in Nanjing as a prostitute in an unamed high-end KTV club.

According to the mother, Ching has stopped called home two years ago, and instead would send a few text messages stating that either she wanted to move to a different city or she had no mood to talk. When the couple tried to call their daughter, her phone would either be deactivated or no one would answer. The father said that “Ching has always been a very stubborn child. She never listened to us, and did whatever she wanted.”

During the two years, Ching’s parents continued to make efforts to contact Ching, but she never responded, only sending text messages once in a while. Fearing some ill-foreboding, the parents traveled to Nanjing to look for her. In Ching’s apartment, the parents found that while all her furnitures were still inside the room, her expensive jewelries, bank cards, phone, and laptop were all missing. At the time they still thought that their daughter was traveling or “eloped” with someone.

The father said, “When Ching came home, she wore very revealing luxury-brand clothes and had all kinds of jewelries and fancy stuffs, so we sort of knew what kind of job she did in Nanjing. I forbade her to go back to Nanjing, but she wouldn’t listen. She said she will go back to Nanjing even if I break her legs. We have no control over her.”

As early as January 2015, the couple had tried to report their daughter’s missing to the police, but rural province is very different compared to big cities such as Nanjing. The police there are very lax and won’t even make a police report. “If you make a police report, then you have to solve the crime. So they often talk you out of making police reports.” The father said, “They told me because my daughter was still sending me text messages, so she was not missing. We had to wait for two years before we can officially declare her to be missing.”

For more than a year, the middled-aged couple had been living in Nanjing searching for their daughter.

Due to the two year gap, police investigation became very difficult. Surveillance do not keep record for two years. Also trying to reach Ching’s former friends have now become difficult. Since she worked in high-end KTV clubs, most of her associates were either fellow prostitutes or johns, many of whom are very shy around the police, to say the least.

Eventually, they were able to track down a former prostitute-friend of Ching who lead the police to investigate Mr. Chiao, a senior level industrial engineer working in a large state-owned enterprise.

Mr. Chiao came from a well-educated family. Both his parents are college professors. Mr. Chiao is mild-mannered, slightly chubby, and spoke in a soft and submissive voice. Initially the police was suspicious whether he was indeed the murderer.

A lengthy confession and the gathering of material evidence sealed the case airtight.

After becoming a senior-level industrial engineer, Mr. Chiao was frequently invited to high-end KTV clubs by wealthy clients and he became acquainted with Ms. Hee Chingching. Enamored by her beauty, Mr. Chiao kept her as his concubine, secluded her in a luxury apartment in the wealthiest district of Nanjing for his own enjoyment. However, at the time Mr. Chiao is already married and has a daughter. Ms. Hee not only demanded large sums of money from Mr. Chiao but eventually started to demand that he divorce his current wife and marry her instead. Whenever she was not getting what she wanted, she threw tantrums and threatened to reveal their affairs to his wife and parents. Mr. Chiao is by nature docile, submissive, and cowardly, and caved in to her every demand but, as her demand became more and more outrageous, Mr. Chiao reached a tipping point. One night, after a particular grisly fight between the two, Mr. Chiao strangled Ms. Hee.

He kept her remains inside the bathroom, brought a freezer from a local store, had it delivered to her apartment. The delivery man was inside the living room while Ms. Hee’s corpse was in the bathroom. After the delivery man left Hee’s apartment Mr. Chiao dragged her corpse out of the bathroom and stuffed it inside the freezer and then went and brought a set of butcher knives and several large pots in preparation to dispose the body by cooking her. However, realizing that the smell of cooking human flesh might be too strong and invite suspicions from neighbors, he decided to do it at a different location. He rented a vacation house in a remote country area outside of Nanjing metro area and had the freezer along with Ms. He’s corpse inside delivered there via a rental mini-van. Then he started the process of cooking her. He dismembered her in a total of two hundred small pieces. Cooked each piece for over a day. Then fried. As he was cooking her flesh, he added in soy sauce, and ketchup, and other ingredients to make it appear like KFC-styled chicken meat. The entire process took him fifteen days to complete. Then he had her remains shipped back to her apartment, inside the same freezer, via the same rental mini-van. And later dumped her remains in separate garbage bags in the nearby Toulejia Food Street.

Regarding the missing head.

Mr. Chiao testifies that he had boiled Ms. Hee’s head until nothing was left except for the skull and her brain. He then carefully took her brain mass out of the skull, dumped it into the sewer, and locked the human skull in a safe, along with her ID, bank cards, and clothes. The safe, whose password is only known to Mr. Chiao, was then given to a work-associate. Mr. Chiao told the work-associate that it contained some very important work-related documents and cannot be opened without his permission.

He later sold the freezer that was used to store Ms. Hee Chingching’s remains to a local restaurant at the Toulejia Food Street.

Nanjing University, China, January 1996: freshman college student Dao Aiching was found carved into 2,000 small pieces. Her remains cooked, neatly stacked in plastic bags and scattered around the city of Nanjing.

Nanjing University, China, January 1996: freshman college student Dao Aiching was found carved into 2,000 small pieces. Her remains cooked, neatly stacked in plastic bags and scattered around the city of Nanjing.

Reality is always stranger than fiction.

Due to insomnia, I have been listening to some podcasts to help me fall asleep, and one particular podcast, a documentary of true crimes that happen in China, turned out to be so interesting, so thrilling, so gruesome that it had kept me awake for entire nights.

This story, that of Dao Aiching, is one of the hundreds of stories that I have listened to.

There are even more interesting ones and when I have time I will translate the best ones into English and share them with my western audience. My last post, pear garden’s underground palace, was a literal translation of two separate true crime stories reported in China.

It is said that China only reports solved crimes. It is very rare that you get an unsolved crime, such as this one about Dao Aiching, reported and the only reason that it was reported at all was because it was so extremely gruesome it was nearly impossible to cover it up.

There are many, many stories about people going missing and years later their corpses were found stuffed in freezers, their remains cooked and eaten.

Those murders that happen in China, the forbidden East—so mysterious, so extremely cruel, and on such massive scales the most horrifying western thrillers written by the most creative writers of the Occident pale in comparison.

A couple and their children sleep next to a small room with a freezer locked with chains and inside hides the remains of a corpse, for four years. A man who kills his wife and keeps her remains for … 11 years. A man who has been “hunting”, butchering, and eating his victims for 20 years, who is frequently seen pushing a cart with mysterious cargo in the middle of the night, strolling his neighborhood like a ghost. A woman who has poisoned to death her brother-in-law’s three children, her sister-in-law’s four children and their livestock—dozens of sheep, hogs, and ox, over a period of ten years. A rapist who sliced off the genitals of women after he rapes them and got away with it for five years. Each story seems more unbelievable than the next. Each story seems to undo the next for its level of depravity, its descent into unimaginable terror.

This particular case that I write about now happened on January 19th, 1996. It took place in Nanjing, the provincial capital of Jiangsu, an area known to produce the most beautiful women in all of China.

The victim was Nanjing University’s freshman student Dao Aiching.

Ten days after she went missing, her body was found carved into 2,000 plus pieces, cooked, neatly stacked into medium-sized plastic bags and scattered around the neighborhoods near Nanjing University. The first report of discovery was made by a middle-aged housewife who claimed to see a black plastic bag in the snow outside of her house. When she picked it up, she thought she saw chopped pork meat inside. She went home to take the meat out and discovered severed human fingers hidden under the thick layers of meat. After nearly passing out, she called the police. And she was so agitated that she was not able to speak coherently for several hours.

Another location of discovery was in a garbage dump. Cleaning personnel discovered a bag full of cooked meat discarded near Huajiao road. Human breasts were discovered in the bag.

The police overseeing the case said that they have seen cases involving dismemberment, but dismemberment of more than 2,000 pieces was a first since the end of World War II.

Because the victim’s body has been cooked, there was little evidence of forensic value to use for the detectives. Even though over thousands of police were involved in the case, to this day, it remained unsolved.

The murderer—whoever he or she or they is or are—has never been caught and roams freely on the surface of earth.

According to what I can recollect in the podcast, they said the murderer was most likely to be either a doctor, a cop, or a medical scientist. “No ordinary human has the ability to carry out such intricate level of dismemberment, under the extreme duress of killing another human being. The murderer has some extraordinary psychology. All the flesh was meticulously severed, cooked, and neatly stacked, like sushi platters. He must have had very competent knowledge of human anatomy and possibly had experience dissecting human corpses.”

The police investigated all the people in this respect but to no avail. Aiching was a peasant girl from rural province of Jiangsu. She has never had any romantic relationship, and has just been in Nanjing for less than a year. It was unlikely to be a crime of passion. So, perhaps, it was random. But her friends had said that she was a very shy girl who never talked to strangers. So it was must be someone she knew. Maybe a professor. Or a classmate. The person must be very gentle-looking and well-educated in appearance in order to gain her trust.

Three roommates of Aiching were asked to identify her corpse, but the police was hesitant. “It’s difficult even for a trained professional to look at the body and not want to vomit. How can those 19 year old girls look at it?” One of them became so shook up even before going into the morgue and refused. Another stopped at the entrance. Only one was brave enough to go in. The grisly sight was so overwhelming she saw only a tiny bit before she rushed out and started to throw up.

After some research on the internet, there is actually one account in which the author claims that the case actually had been solved just within three weeks of initial discovery. The perpetrators were a couple who worked as doctors and medics in the Chinese military PLA (People’s Liberation Army). They in fact had confessed to killing Dao Aiching. But the police were unable to find any material evidence form a complete chain of evidence to prove their case in court. The district attorney therefore refused to prosecute due to lack of evidence. Eventually the couple was released from jail.

The author further claims that the couple in fact had connections to high ranking officials within the PLA and that was the real reason they were never prosecuted. Within a year after they were released, the couple fled to the United States and never returned.

Source and reference: [graphic warning]

google 南京大学碎尸案

https://baike.baidu.com/item/%E5%8D%97%E5%A4%A7%E7%A2%8E%E5%B0%B8%E6%A1%88

https://zh.wikipedia.org/wiki/%E5%8D%97%E4%BA%AC%E5%A4%A7%E5%AD%A6%E7%A2%8E%E5%B0%B8%E6%A1%88

http://www.xxdao.com/c/141896.shtml

The Pear Garden’s Underground Palace 梨園の地下宮殿

Many years later, after the truth about his atrocities surfaced and became known to the wider public, the reporter, working for the Japanese national newspaper wrote down the following sensational subtitle: “He kidnapped women from China and Korea, turned them into sex slaves in his underground palace. Like an imperial emperor, he entertained by torturing, maiming and mutilating his victims. When he got bored, he killed them.”

TRUE CRIME DOCUMENTARY

translated from Japanese

On April 23rd, after being sentenced to death, Mizuno Ken was executed in the Fukuoka’s Sawara-ku’s northeast district. With a crisp gun-shot sound reverberating through the clear, fresh air of the bright noon, Mr. Mizuno ended his bloodthirsty criminal life, but his atrocities still lingered like a dark cloud that refused to dissipate, especially so for the local Chinese women who had come to Japan to work and study. Whenever they were reminded of the mournful ghosts floating in the pear garden, their hair bristled up and their bodies trembled uncontrollably.

Above the pear garden, over the quiet night sky, a young woman’s pleading shot across the air, “Please save me. I need to go to school.”

Mizuno Ken was the owner of the largest pear garden in the Fukuoka prefecture, a well known businessman with many connections in the trade of agricultural export to China, Korea, and Taiwan. Six years ago, on a shimmering, aestival day of March—just the season when pear flowers blossomed, sitting in front of his pear garden—thousands of pear trees had the entire place covered with luscious green leaves—as the snow-white pear flowers floated whiffs of fragrance in the air, Mr. Mizuno pondered the implementation of an evil scheme.

Spending over the span of a year, with elaborate planning and intricate design, he built a secret underground palace in his own pear garden. From the outside looking in, it was a wooden shack, plain, simple and commonplace. Nothing special, you would say if you saw it. However, the interior was complex, maze-like, and spacious. The underground palace had two structures. The shack above ground served as a cover-up, but once you remove the wooden plank covering one of the corners in the shack, you would see an opening, and following the long, serpentine path spiraling downward, you would be led to the menacing underground chamber.

Once inside, you would see an upholstered king-sized bed with mahogany on one side, a throne made with golden frame and beige velvet right in the center. A few other household items all neatly displayed on the other side of the wall: the most distinctive ones being knives, hem ropes, industrial grade duct tapes, a pair of heavy-duty scissors, a steel-grip plier, and a forged iron fire tong.

Anyone who entered this underground chamber never came out alive.

Mr. Mizuno called this secret location his “梨園の地下宮殿”, (the pear garden’s underground palace).

“The palace has been built, the only thing missing are beautiful, young women.” Darkness, like a furnace of foul reeking smoke, filled the chamber. Mr. Mizuno sat on his throne and pondered, “If only I could get a few beautiful young women to accompany me inside my palace, how wonderful that would be! There will be delicious fruits during the day, and voluptuous, sensual females to play with at night. This is the heavenly paradise that Mizuno Ken pursues.”

Chen Xiao Jing was Mr. Mizuno’s first prey. At the time she was only 18 years old, immigrated to Japan with her mother from northeast China when she was ten. Her face was a perfect oval, white and smooth like porcelain, and long silky black hair fell to her soft creamy shoulders. Her virginal innocence, angelic purity, and dainty feet and delicate hands made Mizuno dying with lust the first time he saw her.

On March 22nd, 1998, as Mr. Mizuno was coming from the Hakata rail station he bumped into Chen Xiao Jing who was accompanied by three other Chinese girls. He walked up to Jing. After greeting her, he said: “The flowers in my pear garden are very beautiful. There’s a lot of small butterflies. And bees. Glow-worms at night. Oh what a wonderful sight! Do you want to see?”

Jing said, “I want to see,” and threw her book-pack to her friends and came to Mr. Mizuno’s pear garden. Seeing she had been completely isolated from her friends, Mr. Mizuno revealed a lascivious, evil grin that bared his carious teeth. He stripped Jing naked and pushed her into the shack, threatening her that: “If you scream, I will kill you.”

Chen Xiao Jing was 5 feet 2 and weighed 90 pounds; Mizuno Ken was 6 feet tall and 200 pounds. Years of farm work made him strong and muscle-bound.

Like a starved beast tormented by sharp pangs of hunger, Mr. Mizuno raped Jing over and over again, quenching his dreadful, evil thirst. After the fourth time of ejaculating inside her vaginally, he groped all over Jing’s body with his hands—rubbing her breasts, fingering her vaginal opening until he became hard again—and penetrated her anally and ejaculated, this time directly into her rectum. Until he could no longer maintain erection, he proudly stood over Jing’s puny body and proclaimed: “Now you will belong to me forever.”

After the repeated rape, he shoved a gag—consisting of two steel claw hooks that artificially held the victim’s mouth in an open position—into Jing’s mouth so she could not speak. Then he used the hem ropes to tie her hands and feet together behind her back, so she was in a hogtied position. He put her into a large burlap sack, and ditched her into a hole that was dug up previously using a shovel. With a slab of concrete to cover the hole, he left and waited to use her for the next installment of rape.

Mr. Mizuno returned home, walked around his neighborhood, and did not notice anything unusual. He felt his heart stopped pounding so violently.

“Initially, my heartbeat was driving me crazy. My whole body was shaking. I was sweating so much. The front and back of my shirt were all soaking wet. I was looking at myself from the outside. An out of body experience. Jing was my first victim. I will never be able to forget her.” Mizuno Ken said according to police report.

Later that night, Mr. Mizuno returned to the pear garden, dug her out of the hole, removed the burlap bag so that she was half-sitting inside it. Taking off her gag—while caressing her naked body with one hand and using another hand to embrace her into his massive chest, he said to her, looking into her large, round, tearful eyes: “If you obey me, I will let you go.”

Jing was wrapped and confounded in mind-numbing fears. She stared pleadingly at Mr. Mizuno and nodded. Her pitiful state of weakness and submission provoked his bestial lust again and he inflicted on her young and poor flesh another round of brutal rape that lasted for five hours. During the process he bit into her flesh with his bare teeth. Her breasts, buttocks, and inner thighs were covered with bloody teeth marks. As he penetrated her both vaginally and anally, he lifted her body upward and then slammed her against the ground and the violent impact caused Jing to break her rib bones. There was fracture in her left arm. Her wrists and ankles were bleeding from laseration.

After the rape, once again, Jing pleaded with her abuser: “Please let me go. My homeworks are not finished yet. I need to go to school. Please let me go.”

Grinning, Mr. Mizuno said, “Forget about going home. The underground palace will be your home from now on, and your purpose in life hereafter will be to serve me, satisfying me in any way I desire. You are from now on my sex slave.”

He wrapped several layers of industrial grade duct tape around her eyes and mouth, only leaving her nose for breathing. Putting her back inside the burlap sack, he ditched her into the hole for the second time and put the concrete slab back in place.

The night—hateful, vaporous, foggy—was silent to the extreme, like a guilty burglar scared to reveal his crime. Suddenly, the ear-piercing siren could be heard. There were people shouting Chen Xiao Jing’s name. Groups of people holding flashlights were looking for her. Mizuno Ken also joined them. They went and searched, ran and cried, furious and begged, frustrated and mourned, angered and stomped their feet in the ground, until the morn, in russet mantle clad, walked over the dew of yonder high eastward hill.

The next day, around 9 A.M., Mr. Mizuno went over to his pear garden, dug Jing out of the hole, and gently tapped her, while shouting, “My sweet angel. My child.” His purpose was to wake her so he could molest and rape her again, but Jing never opened her eyes again. There were only streaks of tears crisscrossing her round and smooth cheeks that radiated with hatred over the bright sun. Hastily, Mr. Mizuno buried her corpse under his pear tree.

Ever since, the pear garden was covered by the shadows of something mysterious and terrifying.

Getting on the Death Table. Eager and Willing to leave the living behind.” The words Mizuno Ken carved on the stone spirit tablet for every woman he killed. Were they really so eager and so willing to leave the living behind?

The hot afternoon of a bright summer day. The glorious sun, scorching the earth with heat. The pear garden, filled with the buzzing of cicada. Beneath the ground, from the underground palace, stealthily, faintly, one heard the sound of laughter and crying.

Mizuno Ken was sitting on the golden throne in his underground palace while several completely naked, young East Asian females served him. Sometimes he made them sing for him. Sometimes dance. Sometimes massage his back. Sometimes massage his feet. When he was in the mood, he had sex with them. After he vented his lust, those naked females crawled on their hands and knees and begged for mercy. They prostrated before Mr. Mizuno and kissed his feet. And if any of them dared to annoy or disobey Mr. Mizuno, he used corporal punishment to maintain discipline. Light infractions involved whipping, spanking; wearing electric shock collars, handcuffs and ankle cuffs for extended period of time. Heavy infractions involved mutilation, dismembering, disemboweling.

In order to prevent escape, Mr. Mizuno ordered those women to be completely naked both day and night, making them live the most primitive lifestyle. And if he ever got bored with any of them, he killed them one by one, and buried their corpses under the pear trees in his garden, as pear trees’ organic fertilizers. Then he would start to hunt for his new prey. Kidnap them. Enslave them in his underground palace. Train them. Discipline them. Domesticate them.

Police: “Why only Chinese and Korean women?”

Mizuno Ken: “Because it’s easier to kidnap non-Japanese women. The Japanese police would not take lots of time and effort to look for non-Japanese Asian women. After all, many of them are illegally trafficked to Japan anyway. Nobody cares about them. I have seen beautiful Russian women too, but I was afraid white women will cause too much problem. East Asian women are cheap and exchangeable.”

A day in 2001, August, Mr. Mizuno was riding his motorcycle on the countryside road and he saw a gorgeous, young East Asian woman, around 30 years old. Immediately he went back home and changed to his van to start hunting for his prey. This woman was Li Xiao Cui, 29 years old. Due to marital disputes with her husband, she decided to come to Japan looking for work. Mr. Mizuno used the pretext of hiring her for a job successfully seduced her to come to his pear garden’s underground palace. When Cui realized that something was amiss, she started to run. Using a baseball bat, Mr. Mizuno hit her over the head, causing her to become unconscious. He then dragged her into the underground palace, stripped off her clothes, tied her hands and feet. Over the course of one week he raped her 15 times. In order to prevent her from escape, he did not give her any clothes to wear. And if she screamed, he put the gag over her mouth.

Police: ”How long did you keep Li Xiao Cui.”

Mizuno Ken: “I kept her for two weeks.”

“How did you treat her?”

“So, my everyday routine was—come into the palace, have sex with her, and, after I have sex with her, beat her. I beat her until I became aroused again. Have sex with her again. And repeat.”

“Then what happened?””

“Her whole body was covered with bruises. I used a plier to twist her nipples. I loved hearing her scream. I used the same plier to twist her clitoris. I got so thrilled from looking at her pitiful and painful expressions—the way her whole body trembled as soon as I held the plier in her face, the way she cried and begged me to stop—it was so hot. I’m different from other men. I get turned on by the sight of women in pain. After I fucked her vaginally, I fucked her anally. Even as I fucked her I used my leather belt to whip her ass. I used a lit cigarette to burn her nipples and pussy. I felt this calmness and unspeakable comfort and joy. After I cummed in her, I stood up and pissed in her mouth, but she spilled some of the urine on my legs, which made me angry. So I used a fire tong, burned until it’s red hot, and pinched her clitoris. Then it would be about daytime, and I would head for home. The next evening I would come back.”

“Do you ever feel remorse or guilt?”

“Initially, yes, but afterward, the feeling would cease.”

Another time, Cui cursed at him, so to punish her, Mr. Mizuno used a sewing needle and thread to stitch her upper and lower lips together, with a total of 12 stitches shutting her mouth completely. Then, he stitched her vagina shut by sewing her outer labia together, with a total of six stitches.

“I can’t even stop laughing as I remember it. The way she tried to scream as I sewed her vagina shut. She couldn’t open her mouth. She got tears and nose water all over herself.”

Unable to feed or properly urinate, Li Xiao Cui begged and pleaded with her tormentor for release. With brinish pearls dropping from her once bright eyes she mumbled: “Please. Please. I do anything you want.”

So Mr. Mizuno decided to get her anti-inflammatory drugs, hemostatic, and bandage for some simple first-aid. But Mr. Mizuno never stopped tormenting her. Very soon, she became mentally unstable: everyday, naked and shackled, she crawled to and knelt by the toilet that contained her own feces. Morsel by morsel, she chewed and gulped down her own excrement.

The pear garden under the veil of pitch darkness, the shifting kaleidescope of darkness: gentle breeze caressed pear tree leaves to a rattle noise. As if to savor a momentary glimmer of consciousness, a shooting star slid across the sky above the pear garden. Poor Xiao Cui. That night she was raped and tortured by Mr. Mizuno for the very last time. After her mouth, vagina and rectum were all pumped full of Mr. Mizuno’s semen—the seed of monstrous birth brought out of hell itself, he bound her left arm to left foot, right arm to right foot, duct-taped her mouth, and holding a girdling knife—used for pruning off tree barks—sliced off her breasts, vagina, and her thighs, until she stopped breathing. Thereafter, he dragged her out of the secret chamber, a trail of blood like a dreamy rivulet slithered and meandered on the ground, unwinding, curling, strengthening, circling, in irregular patterns toward the exit.

“The Ambrosial joy of power, and victory, I feel when I maim and kill those weak, and inferior Asian women. It’s quite inexplicable. It’s the feeling of heaven. I felt like a god. My pears are also so sweet and delicious because of them, knowing that each bite I took was fostered by the decomposition of their once sweet, fragrant and tortured flesh.”

Like the previous victim, Cui was buried under a random, indistinguishable, nameless pear tree in the pear garden.

Asano-Yang Yuki (Yan-Li) was a voluptuous, young housewife with big, round breasts, a wide hip and upturned buttocks, and a slim dancer-like waist. Her eyes were large and bright; her lips juicy-red. Her face was as clear as morning roses newly washed with dew. She was 26 years old at the time, 5 feet 7, with a sweet, seductive voice that mesmerized men. One night, Mr. Mizuno kidnapped her into the underground palace. He stripped her clothes, and made her sing and dance completely naked to entertain him.

She swung her wide hips from side to side and waltzed to show off her salacious buttocks and shamefully-exposed pussy as she was singing to the tone of popular Japanese love songs. Using her long and slender fingers she massaged her own breasts, squeezed them, lifted them, then shook them. Her sweet, melodious voice reverberated the cold, damp, heinous room filled with death, torture, rape, and slavery. As she stood with her back toward Mr. Mizuno, she slid down and knelt on the floor, spreading her sensual, creamy thighs, and then, pulling her silky, long black hair into a pigtail, she humped the floor, her naked hip bouncing up and down like balloons and her breasts and her pigtail moved synchronously. Her bright red toenails and fingernails appeared brighter under the electric pale lamp. Still on the floor, slowly she turned around to reveal to him her welcoming pussy, and two streaks of tears like two vertical scars cut across her face.

Ken Mizuno: “As I watched her, I thought to myself, if I had not kidnapped her, and enslaved her in my underground palace, I would have been her slave, because her beauty had enthralled me. So I had to do what I had to do. I had to enslave her to free myself from the lust that was burning inside me.”

While she was crying, he was smiling from ear and ear, licking his lips and smacking them together from time to time. As he watched her erotic dance and listened to her love songs touched with the shade of melancholic boughs, he took another big bite into the lewdly over-ripened pear, masticating a big trunk of it in his open mouth.

After he finished eating, like a crazed beast, he used a knife to stab into Yan-Li’s lily-white feet. Blood splattered and flowed, as if her red nail polish became amoebas and multiplied. Then he said: ”From now on, you are my slave. You are to be naked. To serve me. And if you try to escape, I will dismember you. Cut you into five pieces. You will be left with only a limb-less torso, like a pumpkin.”

Yan-Li was so scared that her whole body shook uncontrollably. Her teeth were clacking non-stop. All her wits banished the frail sepulcher of her flesh. Like a shell of her former self, she let him reign freely and wantonly over her, without any resistance.

In the pear garden’s underground palace, she had entered an alternative reality, into a world where there was no longer any morality. No more humanity. No more bounds of law that held the civil society together. Only the most depraved sexual desire of sadism reigned.

“I remember when I was a little boy, I used to vivisect little animals like rabbits, rats, and frogs. And I felt immense joy after doing this. This secret desire that I have carried has been living with me for my entire life. I wanted to withdraw from the outside world so I could live in a world of mine own making, where I am a king, an emperor, a lord, a deity; where I have the freedom to freely torture, rape, maim, kill. I feel so happy. So satisfied. I have lived a life that most people don’t even dare to dream of. Only in their nightmares maybe.”

Police: “Do you have any humanity left in you? Do you not have a wife? Do you not have any children? How could you do this kind of thing?”

“Where will be your bright star if it were not for the darkness? Where is the glory of your god if there is no evil? I simply did something that any man would do when he had completely given a free reign to his desires. I simply am living according to my true nature as a man. I forgo the mask of morality and civil society that enslaves man and inhibits man’s most natural and most rapacious desire. I did nothing wrong.”

The police officer felt his skull numb.

“How did you meet Asano-Yang Yuki (Yan-Li).”

“I met Yuki two months after I killed Cui. I was at a karaoke bar and I heard her singing. I like torturing women like her. Her body was so sensual and erotic. From her accents,I knew she wasn’t Japanese. So that fit my description. I went there everyday to meet her, showering her with gifts. From chatting with her, I learned she was married to a Japanese man. Now divorced. And a single mother. I told her I had a cousin, a doctor, still single, and very wealthy, and that one day we could get together for dinner to introduce her.”

“How did you kill her?”

“But she was tough. She didn’t want to obey me. I had to whip her everyday. I poured salt on her open wounds. I beat her in this way for ten days. There was not a single healthy patch of skin left on her body. But she still did not submit. The next day I used a piece of branding iron, burned red hot, to brand her. On her nipples and on her back. She just couldn’t take it anymore.”

Everyday of her life in the underground palace felt as long as a year. Yan-Li had tried to escape, but she never succeeded. After the branding torture, she eventually submitted. She called him her lord and master and obeyed his every command with an absolute obedience. One day, after Mr. Mizuno’s bestial desire was quenched, as he was lying on his king-sized bed, Yan-Li, her feet shackled to the bed frame, was kneeling by his side and massaging his body, and she said: “My lord, please take pity on me. My parents are old and bed-ridden. I also have a child who’s only 7 years old and needs to go to school. Please just let me go take care of them at home. Once everyone is taken care off, I will come back to be your most obedient and royal sex slave. Everyday I will serve you. I will satisfy you in anyway you wish. My good lord, my merciful master, please, okay?”

Mr. Mizuno laughed, then became angry, and said to her: ”Every woman that had ever walked into my secret chamber has never came out of here alive. If you want to live, this is how you will end up.” He pointed at the hangings on the far end of the wall. On that wall, plastered with pale white paint, were several dismembered female genital parts.

He pointed at them and beamed with pride.

“I have this habit, where, whenever after I kill a woman, I sever her genitals and hang them on the wall like trophies. This is to warn the other females in the secret chamber that their only way out is to serve me with devotion and obedience, or else, they will become another mournful 怨霊 (ghost) under the pear trees.”

A hazy Autumn night, the sky canopied in the kingdom of perpetual night. Dark clouds, moonless, starless. Frosty air piercing to the bones, deadened and distorted by the moisture of rain, quivering like arrows in the resonant, empty expanse of dread and terror where foul deformity and misshappen chaos reigned. The thunderstorm roared infants from their sweet dreams with tormenting sights of hell, and then, as sudden as it had come, the Furies left and all was quiet again.

Mr. Mizuno raped Yan-Li once again, and felt like it was time to let her go.

“I felt bored with her. She was not obedient. It was meaningless. I bound her hands and feet together. Stuffed a sock into her mouth, then using a needle and thread I sewed her mouth shut. A total of 12 stitches from upper lip to lower lip. Then I sliced off her vagina and breasts. She was in a lot of pain. She pissed and shat all over herself. It was good enough. I decapitated her. Dragged her headless body out and buried her.”

Asano-Yang Yuki (Yan-Li) was buried under the pear tree of the 6th row and 39th column.

Getting on the Death Table. Eager and Willing to leave the living behind.” written on the spirit tablet, located at pear garden’s south-eastern direction, third row, counting from the northern direction the 42nd column, for Wang Xue Mei. Second row, 12th column, the same spirit tablet, Yu Riyin (Rikio).

“I believe in Buddhism, so I would carve a little stone placard for every woman after I have slept with her. One, I want to remember them. Two, I hope their spirits will not torment me. Even though I conquered every single one of them in my secret chamber, their mournful and revengeful spirits often surround me in my sleep. Their images appear in front of my eyes. One night, I dreamed of them. I saw Xiao-Cui, Jing, Yuki, Mei holding my legs and arms, pulling me in all directions, and dragging me toward a cauldron full of boiling oil. I was scared to death. Thankfully I woke up and realized it was a nightmare.”

Did Wang Xue Mei really want to leave the living behind? In her diary she writes: “1998, after I graduated from technical school, I was full of hope for life. Infinitely bright and radiant everything seemed. But my failed marriage had such a severe impact on me. Once, I was sitting by the bank of Shinano river and I wondered, how much release I would obtain by letting the turbulent river swallow me alive! But then, I saw a seagull. She was struggling against the mighty and contentious river. The tumultuous waves looked as if it was going to drown her. But in a brief moment, she reappeared on the surface of the water, and slowly, rose toward the blue welkin. Humans should strive to live, with the same fortitude of the seagull.”

From then on, Mei decided to reinvigorate her courage to live and rekindle her belief in life, A day of 2002, September, she came to Fukuoka to discuss with her good friend Yu Rikio about starting a massage-parlor business, and when they were looking for a store-front, unbeknown to themselves, they had become Mizuno Ken’s hunting-targets. Once he learned about their intentions, he started to cajole them: “I’m the owner of the largest pear export incorporated in all of Fukuoka. Right now I need female technicians. You two seem bright and motivated. Why not come to my company and assist me in my administrative department?”

Mei and Rikio felt enraptured, as if a gift had fallen out of sky, but was still a bit hesitant. At this point, a truck full of pears stopped at the commercial bus station, and Mr. Mizuno waved at the two to come with him to take a look. He said, “Look! Those are all my pears, from my agricultural center.” As he said it, he waved at the driver who—recognizing Mizuno Ken—smiled and nodded, and from the cabin he reached in and grabbed out a two handfuls of juicy pears for the two girls. “Have a taste. They juicy and sweet.”

The gullible and innocent pair munched on the fruits as they followed Mr. Mizuno to doom, hand-in-hand, skipping and smiling, into the garden of evil.

The innocuous-looking garden, covered by pear trees, a green sea bearing fruit for the sustenance of life, under the sunset glow, seemed golden, hiding its heinous deeds underground. Its luscious pears, heavy, ripe and eager to fall to the ground, bent the tender and delicate twigs as if to the point of breaking.

Mei and Rikio worked for Mr. Mizuno for a few days and started to notice that something was strange about him.

“I don’t know what is it with this guy.”

“What do you mean?”

“I can’t quite put my finger on it. Everything about this place just seemed eerie and strange. Sometimes it sent chills down my spine just coming to this place.”

“Mr. Mizuno does seem a bit lascivious and leery. I assume all Japanese men are a little bit like that. But think about it. They are just men.”

“Oh my god. You are not saying you actually like this creepy middle-aged guy, are you?’

“Of course not.”

“We must be careful. Remember the proverb, a woman’s beauty will provoke a criminal’s heart sooner than money.”

“I know. Of course I know.”

“Do you? Do you know what he did to me the other day? He tried to grope my pussy.”

“He did the same to me.”

“What! And you!”

“I don’t mind him touching me that much though.”

“We must leave this place. He is not a good person. Call the police. Come on. We must—”

“Don’t. I really need this job. I haven’t had a job for over half a year now. I know how to deal with men. Maybe he just wants to have sex with me. Maybe I will get him to give me some money. My family needs money desperately right now.”

“Listen. I have a very bad foreboding about this guy.”

“I think he is a generous person. Perhaps just too solitary. The isolation of this place does that to people. Japan is a safe place. There are very little crimes.”

For an entire night Rikio tried to convince her friend Mei that something was wrong with the place and urged her to leave, to no avail.

“For my family I’m willing to sacrifice everything, including my dignity. What is the worst he is going to do? Kill me? Haha!”

Mr. Mizuno became aware that they were now suspicious of him and became more cautious. He tried his best to hide his true self. It was easier said than done. It was so hard for him to not stare at those two beautiful young women working in his garden—their soft, puny, white forearms stretching upward to reach his pears, bending over revealing their upturned buttocks. He imagined to himself the depraved acts that he was about to commit to them, and yet he had to control himself, to maintain the facade of benevolence and generosity over the deep, subterranean caverns of his murderous, perverted sexual desire.

The night of Mid-Autumn festival—Tsukimi’s moon, round, brilliant and pale, reminded Mei’s and Rikio’s relatives in China. Time’s deformed hands had written strange disfigurement into Mr. Mizuno’s face. He seemed more and more peculiar by the day. Like a frightened bird Rikio’s heart pounded, a sense of foreboding overcame her, and yet, Mei little suspected the false-worshipper. So guiltless she still securely gave good cheer and reverent welcome to her princely employer, whose inward devil outward harm expressed.

“Mr. Mizuno is hiding something. He is lying to us. He is—”

“We are paid double the usual wage, right?”

“I’m scared. He has ulterior motives.”

“He’s definitely a pervert. He reached his hands under my shirt and fondled my breasts again this morning.”

“We must leave, Mei! It’s too dangerous. We must call the police.”

“Don’t worry. I’ll make sure I confront him and extort some money from me for sexually harassing both of us.”

“Please, Mei. Let us leave!”

Later that night, with deft expertise and experienced ease, Mr. Mizuno kidnapped Rikio and Mei into his vaulty underground “palace”. Mei had forever lost her chance to a happy life. Rikio were vindicated of her suspicions all along, but everything was too late.

“I should have listened to you!”

“It’s too late! It’s too late!” Rikio cried to Mei from inside the cage.

Almost choking with his unresisted lust, Mr. Mizuno kept Rikio inside a steel cage with spindles on all sides, while he tied Mei to the bed, and, over the course of five days, raped both of them continually, repeatedly, taking breaks only when he needed to rest. Every time they tried to put on their clothes, Mr. Mizuno would make them take their clothes off again. Finally, he decided that they didn’t need clothes anymore, and had them kept perpetually naked in the secret chamber. And when Mei and Rikio disobeyed his commands, they received the most brutal beatings of their lives.

Every time Mei disobeyed Mr. Mizuno, he used a butcher’s knife to make a mark on her back, to remind her that she was now his slave. Her lily-white back, crisscrossed with bloody red cuts—a silent war of lilies and roses—testified to humanity her tales of sorrow and misfortune.

Mr. Mizuno’s methods of torture were varied and creative. He had Rikio hang by her wrists from the ceiling and let Mei flog her, watching her feet dangle and dance in midair. Then he would alternate. Suspend Mei in mid-air and let Rikio flog her. He smeared honey on his penis and made Rikio and Mei lick the honey off his penis, and when their oral sex abilities were not to this satisfaction, he whipped both of them with his leather belt.

One night, Mr. Mizuno sat in the alcove of the secret chamber, under the dim lamplight; meticulously, at full attention, using a knife he chiseled on the “spirit tablets” for the two new victims. The stone tablets, motionless and silent, squarish and thick, rested on the circular wooden table; irregular wave patterns were carved on them. Beneath the pattern, in a calligraphy-style imitating Morizawa, he wrote the following words: “Getting on the Death Table. Eager and Willing to leave the living behind.”

On the left side of the spirit tablets were another line of calligraphy, “Sukhavati are little sluts’ paradise.”

The next morning, when Mei was using the bathroom, she saw the tablets, and asked Mr. Mizuno: “Whose spirit tablets are those for?”

He replied: ”Every woman I have played with is my little concubine. Once they leave I will erect spirit tablets for them. After reincarnation they will all still be my little sluts.” After saying this, he embraced Mei, toyed her nipples, and carried her to his king-sized bed again.

Mr. Mizuno lived as an emperor as his “little sluts” alternated in pleasing him. He also enjoyed watching Mei and Rikio having lesbian sex to entertain him. As he penetrated Rikio, lifting her legs so her pussy was directly facing Mei’s face, he asked Mei, “My little slut, does this make you horny.” Mei replied: “Yes, my lord. You are so ferocious. Your little sluts are so enjoying it,” as tears leaked out of her eyes sockets like blood.

During the day, as he sat on his throne, Rikio knelt between his legs and sucked him off, while Mei put on a masturbation show for him, fingering herself, caressing her breasts, all the while singing and smiling, telling Mr. Mizuno how much she wanted to have sex with him, how much she enjoyed being a sex slave. “My lord, I need your penis in my pussy so bad. I ache for you. I would do anything for you. I love being your obedient little slut. I am your slave,” tearfully repeating the lewd sentences she was made to practice.

Life in the underground palace, besieged with horror and deformity, a perpetual dreadful midnight, waiting for a morning that will never come, filled with the foul stench of death—an air unknown on earth—this life had taken a significant tow on Mei. She was only 22 years old and yet her once pristine and sweet-looking face showed significant decrepitude. Her once black hair had become completely white. Her eyes, once bright, seemed deeply burrowed into her deathly pale face. She had become emaciated to the bones. She thought it over, and realized that perhaps Mr. Mizuno was going to replace her and Rikio with a new woman soon. He was more than likely to commit more bloodthirsty deeds to her, so why not put on a last fight.

Rikio had completely lost her mind. She had been locked inside the dog cage in the bathroom for the last several weeks, and was defecating and urinating on herself. Mr. Mizuno enjoyed watching her defiling herself in this way.

Around 8 P.M. the metal gate to the underground palace had been opened. Mr. Mizuno, holding a large brown bag, walked in. He said to Mei: “Come here. I brought some dinner and drinks. Let’s enjoy ourselves.” Mei thought that, after Mr. Mizuno got drunk, she would hit him over with a wooden stick which she had prepared and hidden, and then, she would be able to escape this airless dungeon of macabre. “No strong links of iron can be retentive to the strength of spirit,” she encouraged herself.

After about half an hour, Mr. Mizuno became drunk and rested on bed. Mei held the stick in her hand and swung it with all the strength in her body at the genital area of Mr. Mizuno, but with poor aiming, instead, she hit him over his stomach. Mr. Mizuno became furious. He kicked Mei over to the ground. Using nylon ropes he tied her hands and feet together and defiled her for the very last time. He stared at this woman for a brief moment, and then started the process of “gelding” (宫刑きゅうけい).

First he used a sharpened branch of the pear tree to stab randomly over Mei’s breasts, thighs, and vaginal area. Then he poured toilet water, mixed with urine and feces, down her mouth. Afterward, sticking a small towel into her oral cavity, he used needle and thread to sew her mouth shut. Then he used a knife to carve up her body, slicing off her breasts and vagina. Making a long horizontal incision in her lower abdomen, he removed her uterus by hand.

Seeing that she was still breathing, he started to disembowel her, using a butcher’s knife slicing open her body from the chest vertically all the way down to her vagina opening, exposing all her innards to the air, and then carved out her kidney, liver, and heart. Lastly, he cut off her head, dismembered her legs and separately buried them in the direct-southern area outside the underground palace, third row, from north counting 42nd, 43rd, and 44th column of trees. After he had Mei buried, he took out the “spirit tablet” and buried it along the corpse. Then standing up, he bowed three times.

Similarly for Rikio. Seeing that she was mentally incapacitated, there was no point in keeping her. He took her out of the cage, suspended her from the ceiling, and using a butcher knife, sliced open her body from the front, and with a bucket underneath, let all the blood in her body drip out of her. Then he sliced off the skin around her breasts and vagina. Without any more blood, it became easier for Mr. Mizuno to now carve out her kidney, liver and heart.

Police: “Was Yu Ryin (Rikio) dead or alive at this point?”

Mizuno Ken: “She was alive until her blood that was let out of her body filled the bucket. Mei stopped breathing some time after I carved out her heart.”

“You—basically—vivisected Wang Xue Mei?”

“I vivisected all my victims. It was fun when they were still alive. I felt a happiness that words cannot describe as I did that.”

Rikio was buried in the direct-north region outside of the underground palace, fifth row, from south counting the 89th and 90th column of trees. Again he buried the spirit tablet next to her and bowed three times.

The hallowed full moon, floating above the dark-blue sky, in deep, mysterious repose, as if an eye—that fly from their sights, in darkness daunts them with more dreadful sights—dripped to the ground its sorrowful tears. Suddenly, a cold, gentle wind blew across. Clouds covered the clear night sky. Showers of rain, in tiny drips, fell—left indelible imprints on the muddy soil.

A few minutes later, the pear garden was all quiet again.

_________________________________________________________

District Attorney:

Mei and Rikio were employees of Mr. Mizuno. Xiaocui was Mr. Mizuno’s neighbor. Xiaoliang and Yan-Li were acquaintances with Mr. Mizuno. If Zhang Yami did not escape successfully in 2003, it was likely that Ken Mizuno would still not have been caught.

Given the defendant’s pathological perversion, it was highly probably that he would have repeatedly committed similar crimes and would not have stopped voluntarily if he had not been caught.

Defendant’s wife, Mrs. Mizuno Natsuko, was fully aware of Mr. Mizuno Ken’s crimes. However, she was not the only one.

In 2003, as Mr. Mizuno was raping and beating Wang Yaya in his underground chamber, he did not have the intention to kill her, but was in stead planning to sell her. Mr. Mizuno once brought Wang Yaya out of the underground chamber, and handed her over to middle-aged bachelor Mr. Fukai and demanded a lump sum payment of 10,000 dollars. After seeing Yaya’s bruises all over her body, and hearing about her story, however, Mr. Fukai refused to buy her. In the face of Yaya’s repeated plead for help, Mr. Fukai refused to help her or to call the police, and instead gave her back to Mr. Mizuno.

Testimony from Mr. Yukio Fukai:

“She [Yaya] was crying herself into a bloody mess. She was kowtowing to me on the floor, banging her head on the floor like a crazed person, but 10,000 dollars is a lot money. The police will confiscate all my money if they find out. Besides, Mr. Mizuno is a scary person. If I call the police, he might kill me. I was scared of Mr. Mizuno. Everybody said he had connections with the Chinese mafia. Even yakuza were scared of those crazy Chinese. I told her I was going to send her back to Mr. Mizuno and she crawled to me and hugged around my leg like a small child, crying hysterically. Mr. Mizuno almost chopped off her wrists to let her go of me.”

_____________________________________________________

Once again, alone, Mizuno Ken sat on the golden throne in his underground palace, showing some signs of weariness, and yet still so full of pride. Slowly, he counted over again and again every female’s panties, bras, and severed body parts that were hanging on the wall, and spoke to himself as in a soliloquy: “You have accompanied me for the last five years. My underground palace—strict, secretive, forbidden to the outside wall—my accomplishment, my recipe for success. Let’s summarize.” He picked up a pen and small pocketbook, recollecting every young, beautiful female’s wonderful encounter with him. He summarized this formula in his note book:

Finding prey ——– Seducing and capturing ——– Enjoyment in my underground palace ——– dismembering and disemboweling ——– Pear garden burial ——– Finding new prey

Police: “How did you obtain Lin Yumi, Lin Yami, and Liu Nana?”

Mizuno Ken: “I did import and export with China, so I went to China on business trips very frequently. It was in Chongqing. Mrs. Wang sold me those three Chinese girls.”

Chongqing—mega-city of southwestern China, with the most-recently estimated population of 15 million, located within Sichuan province. If Shanghai is known as the harlot of the east, then Sichuan is the birthplace of Chinese harlots. It is estimated that a fifth of Chinese prostitutes came from Sichuan, where the local women are known to have petite figure, soft skin, and a docile and demure demeanor that melts the heart of men from all over the world.

Bright Spot Teahouse100 RMB [12 dollars] for 45 minutes. Only things you cannot imagine. Nothing those Chinese girls won’t do. Heaven-on-earth. The avant-garde of international standard.

Undeniably the fearsome spectacle of Chongqing would dazzle and amaze any foreigner who stepped into this forbidden and secretive sexual paradise of the Far East. The general population of its local men are revolting to look upon: gaunt, sallow, hideous, and short, living in abject poverty, and feeding on the bare minimum for survival; and yet, the local women—slim, seductive, sensual, mysterious, and shamelessly lustful. Like a vast cornfield that swayed this way or that by the winds of the ruthless tyrants that ruled over them, the local women are like a swirling harvest which are waiting for the scythe of any western or westernized conqueror to cut down and ruthlessly conquer; and as soon as they are cut down, a younger generation spring up again as dense as ever: a sea of faces, twisted, contorted, exuding through every pore of its skin weakness, oppression, misery, slavery, and sexual ecstasy derived through orgasmic pain and torture.

In 1995, Mr. Mizuno, along with a group of international businessmen from Japan, Korea, and Taiwan, traveled to Chonqing, China, where he became acquainted with local businesswoman and owner of Bright Spot Teahouse, Mrs. Wang Jiki, who, together with her other two sister, were colloquially known as “the three-sisters of Chongqing” by underground crime syndicate.

“I ordered four Chinese girls. They came in to my room, bowed to me, and then stripped themselves with the efficiency of soldiers. Without any facial expression, two girls knelt down in front of me to lick my feet, another one slid herself under my body and slithered her tongue around my asshole—I was sitting on top of her face. The fourth one buried her face in between my crotch and licked my penis and testicles. The one in front of me. I noticed her back was crisscrossed with welts. I remembered what the man in front said, only things you cannot imagine, nothing they won’t do, so I said to the one in front of me how much if I want some extra service—”

“How did you communicate with those Chinese prostitutes?”

“I speak fluent Chinese …”

From 1993 to 2011, the threesisters of Chongqing operated the largest known sex-trafficking network in south-west China, with over 300,000 Chinese women being coerced into sexual exploitation and sexual slavery. It is reported that many of the Chinese prostitutes who acted as witnesses were beaten to death in prison to cover up the true extent of the crimes involved.

“I witnessed a woman being beaten to near-death, and I was exhilarated. A woman in her fifties and a guy in his twenties—walked in, holding a set of ropes and a long wooden stick. The guy tied the girl’s hands above her head, and pulled her upward until only the tip of her toes touched the floor. The guy asked me what I wanted, and I said, I wanted to see her broken in half … She was completely naked from head to toe, and her skin was so soft, so tender, especially so when the stick landed on her flesh. She yelped and cried for mercy and instantly it made me hard. … The Chinese prostitutes—in front of me—who were licking my feet were also crying. I pulled the girl from under my ass up and let her sit next to me to watch. She played with my penis while I played with her nipples.”

Mr. Mizuni initially paid for a lump sum to smuggle ten Chinese women into Japan to be sold to him as sex slaves, but, once the snake-heads from Hong Kong arrived in Japan, Mr. Mizuno was told that one had died en route, five were robbed by triads to work in local Chinese-owned brothels in Tokyo, while another was kidnapped by a rival gang.

“So I only ended up with three. Even though I paid for ten. You can’t really trust those shady Chinese businessmen.”

“How did you kill Liu Nana?”

“I beat and raped her everyday. One day, she cursed at me, saying that you have done things beyond the evil of this world, you, your family, your children, and your grandchildren will all be cursed. I became furious and kicked her to the ground. Using the nylon rope I tied her hands behind her back and her feet to the bed-post, Then I sewed her mouth and vagina shut. She was in such great pain that her body started to convulse. She hit her head against the wall and blood was gushing out of the cuts on her head. After I made the stitches, I was very satisfied. I felt happy and calm. The next day she was losing her mind and smeared feces on her face, like she was taking a shower. Because she couldn’t eat, plus being insane, in two days time she was half-dead. Just lying on the ground, not moving much anymore. I still did not get enough of her, so I used the girding knife to slice off her breasts and vagina. While I sliced her, her whole body convulsed, like she was getting hit by electricity. Not exactly sure when she stopped breathing. I dragged her body out and buried her under the pear trees.”

Liu Yumi and Liu Yami were sold as brides to Mr. Masaki and Mr. Kokura.

Chinese prostitute plunges to her death to evade police arrest on New Year’s Eve

Chinese prostitute plunges to her death to evade police arrest on New Year’s Eve

The New Year Eve of 2017 marked the coldest day of New York in the last 34 years. Yet Ci Ci, a smartly dressed young woman in her late twenties, had been standing on the street corner of Main St. Flushing for the last several hours. She wore a large, bright red overcoat, which covered her otherwise naked body, but one could still see her skin-tight black stockings which were the only fabric covering her long, slender legs. She stood tirelessly on her black open toe stiletto heels. Her round white face was touched up with slight makeup: bright red lip stick and deep dark eye liner. Her naturally black hair was covered under a white fur cap. Tresses of her silky hair fell on each side of her pink cheeks. She seemed distinctly lonely on a bustling street full of people, people with their family, parents, and children, and yet Ci Ci was all alone by herself. She held a fist full of pink business cards and tried to stuff into strangers’ hands, and yet no one took them. Her lips quivered and she pushed her chest out as she leaned back against the brick wall. She was especially coy, and she tried to flirt with any man who looked at her. Yet there was no customer. Her eyes betrayed hunger, even desperation. She hasn’t made any money for several days, and she has just gotten out of prison a month ago. The police took all the money she had made last year, and, she told her working sisters, if she’s ever caught again, she would kill herself. The streets were frozen with coldness. Patches of snow mixed with ice accumulated on the sides of buildings. The people walking back and forth seemed happy yet cold and oblivious to Ci Ci’s presence. There was so much joy in the air, but for Ci Ci everything seemed so bleak. Her elderly parents were still toiling away in the north eastern China, a place renowned for its coldness and which partially explained Ci Ci’s ability to endure cold; her little brother did not have the money to go to school and had to become a migrant worker in Beijing. Her younger sister went to work in Japan in a massage parlor as well and Ci Ci was determined to make money, to let her parents live a wealthy life, to let her brother go to college, and to let her sister find a good husband, preferably a wealthy white man. She was willing to do anything. Anything at all.

A group of Mexican laborers passed by and were ogling at her, whistling and commenting on her looks to each other. Their clothes were dirty and their faces were brown with physical labor. She smiled at them; her white face and red lips contrasted with their dark, dirty faces, and she waved at them by raising her wrist to the side of her cheek. “30 dollars massage. Full body. One hour.” Her legs were shivering from the cold, and her hands felt frozen. As they approached her she handed over the little pink cards to the Mexican men which had written in English: “girlfriend experience $200. No condom vaginal cum shot $250. Free semen swallowing.” The Mexican men read the simple English on the cards, and their eyes were round like dead fish, their faces wide with grin, revealing their crooked yellow teeth. A few started to grope Ci Ci all over, touching her legs, and feeling her breasts through her overcoat. “50 dollars. Blowjobs for all of us.” “No, 100 dollars. You too many people. One, two, three, four, five. Five. Five people.” “60 dollars, 60 dollars, how about 60 dollars. It’s New Year.” “80 dollars I give you discount.” “No condom. You swallow?” “Yes, I swallow everything.”
By this time the two Mexican men standing in front of Ci Ci had already had their hands inside her bright red overcoat partially exposing her naked breasts in the open. Her nipples chafed against the zippers on her red coat and she moaned in pleasure.
“Pay first. Then we go up.” Ci Ci said as she pointed to the metal door behind her. The Mexican men collected their money together and handed them in a roll to her and quickly she led them through the door, then through a dark hallway and went up a serpentine series of stairs. Her bright red overcoat was almost completely open, revealing her naked body underneath and they took turns fondling her large breasts. By the time they reached the third floor Ci Ci was naked, except for her black stockings and black stilettos. They were very happy to discover that Ci Ci had worn absolutely nothing underneath the red overcoat, not even a bra or panties. Her pubic hair was completely shaved so she could cater to western men, and her body was curvy with large hips. The red overcoat was torn off from her and threw to the side. Those Mexican laborers hadn’t had sex for months. They were hungry just as much as Ci Ci was. They quickly dropped their pants, revealing their smelly Mexican dicks to Ci Ci and Ci Ci took them like the pro she was. She put their hardened dicks in her soft little hands and took turns kissing and sucking on each one while working fast with her hands on the ones she was not sucking on. And within just minutes one of them had shot into Ci Ci’s mouth. As promised, she swallowed every drop. “I have earned my worth today,” Ci Ci smiled and thought to herself. “Okay, you finished. 80 dollars more.” “No 80 dollars for all of us. “No 80 dollars for each blow job. You want more? You pay more money.” The men were all horny and somewhat annoyed at her dishonesty. “Okay, 80 more dollars we fuck your pussy.” “150 dollars fuck my pussy.” “100 dollars.” “No 120 dollars.” “Okay okay 120 dollars fuck your Chinese pussy. Your pussy is very tight?” “Of course, I’m Chinese. Our men have small dicks. You have very big dicks”

The Mexican men handed over more money to Ci Ci which she kept in her Louis Vuitton hand bag and with one hand holding her bag, she pried open her pussy with another hand, showing the pink inside and she offered her pussy to those Mexican men by bending over. They took turns fucking her in the pussy, bareback, cumming inside her. It was pure joy for those Mexican men. And it was joy for Ci Ci too. She had been so hungry for cocks, and not only was she satisfied with her carnal desire, she was also making money. “I will finally have a happy new year,” Ci Ci thought to herself. The warmth of those Mexican men’s cum had not just warmed Ci Ci’s body but also her heart. She hadn’t had a good new year in so long. Last New Year’s Eve hers was spent in prison. The previous year she was beaten by a gang of black teenagers. She was happy to finally get some relief, and those men’s sperm were like antidepressants healing her emotional wounds. For those who didn’t cum inside her pussy, she directed them to cum inside her mouth.

But just as she was mesmerized by the bliss of sex, by the success of her little business, the metal door on the first floor was banged open, and there was a loud masculine voice overheard. “Police! Everybody freeze!” She looked over the handrail and her face went pale with fear. The worst that she could possibly imagine had finally happened. All the Mexican men froze on the spot with their hands up, except for Ci Ci. She remembered her previous experience in prison. She remembered being beaten by the police, being tasered while she was handcuffed and hung upside down, being forced to have her pictures taken, humiliated, ridiculed, and forced to have enema liquid shot up into her rectum. She felt terror. A fire burned up all her innards as she thought back to all those horrible things that they did to her in prison. The fear, the terror, the unfathomable sadness, the despair burned her brain like a fire, and had eaten away the last hope. She couldn’t remain still. She grabbed with both her hands over the handrail. Her hand bag slipped off her wrist and the green bills scattered on the ground. “STOP! Do not move! Or we will shoot you!” Ci Ci didn’t care for a word of their warnings. It was as if the police thought death would still scare her, when she had seen far worse than death in prison. She had given up on life already. She ran over to the window directly opposite the handrail and leaped out with a fiery determination to die. Her naked body dropped through the open window, and her head hit the restaurant billboard directly beneath the window, which caused her to somersault in midair and then her body landed onto the street curb. Her bright red overcoat was still on the floor. Her naked body was now three stories down below. Red blood splattered across the wintry ground. The sound of her fall did not impact the bustling streets of Flushing. In fact most people couldn’t even hear her through all the noise. Police lines quickly drew up and medics arrived in nearly minutes to cover up her cold, dead body and then, it was as if nothing ever happened. The streets were bustling with people.