Then, from the voices coming through the broadcasting equipment on the ceiling, he learned some not-so-good news: this godforsaken place is a laboratory.
And Ji Minghuan... is their research subject.
That's right, research subject. They repeatedly emphasized that Ji Minghuan is a top-tier superpower user, standing at the pinnacle of the United Nations' rating series, harboring indescribable potential within him, and someone even predicted he would destroy the world.
They hoped Ji Minghuan would cooperate with their research and even threatened that if he didn't cooperate, his fate would be obvious.
But Ji Minghuan had no idea what was going on. When he first arrived, he argued helplessly: Since I'm a superpower user, and according to you, one of the most dangerous rating series, how could I not know about it myself?
No one cared about his rebuttal.
And every time he faced their questioning, he could only prop his chin, roll his eyes, and tell them what kind of ridiculous power he supposedly had. He was just an ordinary person, as rare as a dirty stray dog, a dime a dozen on the street. Are you sure you haven't got the wrong person? There might not be many people named Ji in China, but what if there's someone with the same name?
Unfortunately, those experimenters were unwilling to believe his words, considering it meaningless quibbling, and their attitude was quite rigid.
So what could Ji Minghuan do?
The only thing he could do was submit to it, like a mummy, lying on the hard bed every day, holding his chin after waking up, staring blankly at the hard ceiling.
This wretched place didn't even have a TV. When bored, he could only draw circles on the ground with his finger, attempting to let his imagination fly. But staying in this iron box, he felt like his imagination was also confined, his brain like a broken music box, clicking without moving, while the tinnitus never ceased.
Even trying to take a breather here was difficult. Whether he yelled at the camera above his head or rolled over the overly clean floor, no one paid attention. But once he exhibited any self-harming behavior, the collar around his neck would shoot out a current, paralyzing him, and then inject a sedative into his neck to quickly put him to sleep.
After going through this repeatedly, Ji Minghuan pretty much gave up struggling. Probably anyone with claustrophobia would go insane here, even placing a normal person in here for too long might cause them to develop schizophrenia.
Thereafter, every time the "Mentor" and the "Officer" visited, it was the only time Ji Minghuan could communicate with others while in this iron box. In the midst of suffering, he didn't mind their arrival.
Speaking of these two, Ji Minghuan felt they were quite interesting from the bottom of his heart.
The reason the "Mentor" is called the mentor is because he claimed to be here to guide Ji Minghuan in controlling his superpower. He seemed like a nice person, gentle and tolerant, guiding patiently;
The "Officer," as his name suggests, wore a military uniform, stern and acerbic, seemed like a bad person, violent and sullen, often adopting punitive measures against Ji Minghuan, scolding harshly at the slightest provocation.
The two played good cop, bad cop, their personalities acting as contrasts, employing the "stick and carrot" strategy, effective whether training dogs or children.
Fortunately, Ji Minghuan was different from ordinary children. He knew what tricks these two were playing, so what he was wary of was not the aggressive, hostile officer, but rather the seemingly warm yet truly dangerous mentor.
He understood that it was this mentor who was there to tame him, while the officer was merely someone playing the bad guy. Once he realized internally that the German-uniformed officer was merely being harsh for the sake of being harsh, for Ji Minghuan, his harshness lost its intended offensiveness.
When the officer scolded him, the mentor often feigned a difficult expression behind him. Sometimes he would nod slightly, pushing his glasses up his nose in apparent disapproval.
Ji Minghuan naturally saw this scene. After all, it was what the other party wanted him to see.
He scoffed at it, but kept a poker face.
Interestingly, the mentor wouldn't directly belittle the officer or denounce his actions when meeting Ji Minghuan, perhaps thinking it would seem a bit false or deliberate.
So much so that when meeting Ji Minghuan alone, the mentor would even defend the officer: "That's just his personality. None of us like his way of doing things, we all think he's too rude and hasty, you don't have to take it to heart. We're actually all doing this for your good. If you can quickly understand how dangerous your superpower is and cooperate with our work, the troubles will reduce significantly."
At that time, Ji Minghuan merely propped his chin, nodded absentmindedly, still not taking it seriously. Because he was clearly aware in his mind that whether playing good cop or bad cop, they essentially made no difference: they were just bad people who had locked a child in a laboratory for more than half a month without saying a word.
Anyway, whether it was day or night on this day, the mentor's visit time to the detention room had come again.
The tall, skinny man in a white lab coat pulled a chair, sat down in front of the table not far from the bed, adjusted his glasses, and looked up at Ji Minghuan.