188 That Kind Of Filth? (1/2)

In the basement of a secluded private villa outside of Beijing.

”Aaaahhhhhh...stop!”

A man's screams echoed loudly inside the pristine chamber, where the walls were white and the floor was made of black graphite. Different tools could be found hanging on the walls like a museum display.

There was a metal bed on the center, similar to where corpses were laid down in the morgue. But stainless steel chains trapped the wrists and the ankles of the man that was spread-eagled on the metal bed, preventing him from moving. He was completely naked except for his underwear, and it could be clearly seen that the skin on his legs had been peeled off. A man dressed in a laboratory gown calmly washed off the blood with salt water.

”Aaaaaaaaaaaaaah!”

His back arched, his mouth opened, and his larynx stretched to produce a piercing scream.

”Don't let him fall unconscious,” Lu Shen said icily.

The man in the laboratory gown nodded. He took out a picana from the wall, a short rod with a bronze tip and an insulated handle. He placed it inside the screaming man's mouth. The electric shock made another scream burst out from the man again. The shocks from the picana had high voltage and low current. It wouldn't kill the victim.

Once Wen Zedong quieted down, Lu Shen approached the bed. He was dressed in an immaculate suit, seemingly out of place in the bloody torture chamber. But the eyes that examined the wounds inflicted on the man didn't bat an eyelid, as if he was appreciating a work of art.

”Still not talking?” he asked softly. ”I don't mind. I have more ways to make you talk.”

He turned to the man wearing a laboratory gown. ”Give me the mixture of milk and honey.”

As he was waiting, Lu Shen leisurely sat on the chair that was provided for him. Lighting a cigarette, he casually told Wen Zedong, ”Around 500 B.C., the ancient Persians practiced an execution method called scaphism. They force the victim to ingest a mixture of milk and honey, until their bowels gave up. Their skin were then smeared with more milk and honey, until it attracted wasps and ants. They would crawl inside the orifices of the victim and lay their eggs, eating them alive from inside out. With the ration of milk and honey, you would never die from thirst or hunger.”

Wen Zedong shuddered. Originally, Lu Shen told the story using pronouns that made it seem as if he wasn't talking about him, but the 'you' in his last sentence extinguished all of Wen Zedong's hope in coming out of this alive.

Lu Shen stubbed out his cigarette on the soft skin of Wen Zedong's belly. Ignoring his scream, he turned towards the man who had finally returned with a pail filled with milk and honey.

”You know what to do.”

The man nodded, and slowly approached Wen Zedong. Tipping the pail into his mouth, he forced Wen Zedong to ingest the mixture by pinching his jaw.

Wen Zedong spluttered. He turned his head to the side and choked out, ”I did it! I did it! I killed her!”

Lu Shen held up a hand and the man stopped.