Chapter 1: An Extraordinary Class Reunion

Attending a class reunion nearly cost me my life, and brought me face to face with the legendary ten tortures.

The reunion was organized in advance by Du Jiang, my college classmate and roommate. In recent years, he’d been riding high, founding a company and making a fortune. He paid for everyone’s food and drinks, and even promised to gift each attendee the latest Apple 8 phone.

Back in our design class, Du Jiang was the least conspicuous among us. Born in the countryside, ordinary in appearance, timid and often bullied, he suffered a car accident in our senior year that left him with a crippled leg. After that, Du Jiang became despondent, smoking and drinking, wallowing in self-destruction. Our classmates even gave him the nickname “Du the Cripple.”

Who would have guessed that in just a few years, Du Jiang would soar to become the owner of a thriving company, his assets worth hundreds of millions. The poor kid everyone looked down on had leapt through the dragon gate. In contrast, I, once the teacher’s favorite, am now just an average mechanical designer. In the end, it’s true what they say: we plan, but fate decides.

At first, the atmosphere at the reunion was pleasant. Despite the years apart, the bonds between classmates remained. The men drank and boasted, the women whispered and laughed. Du Jiang handed out bulging red envelopes to everyone present.

Then Du Jiang began to tell us about his soon-to-open island hotel. The hotel was a seafood restaurant converted from an abandoned ship, perched beside the Yellow Sea, rich in resources, and novel yet luxurious in its cruise-ship style. True to his generosity, Du Jiang invited us to enjoy the experience before the grand opening.

The ship was a small cruise liner, three stories tall, compact yet complete. Its interiors were crafted to five-star hotel standards. Yet something was odd: from the moment we boarded, we saw no staff, no chefs or waiters. Du Jiang explained that, to foster a sense of camaraderie, he’d given the staff the day off, so we could enjoy a unique atmosphere.

We feasted on a buffet—seafood, barbecue, and endless delicacies and wine. The laughter and joy flowed freely. Near midnight, Du Jiang began speaking about Teacher Zheng, who was my father. Years ago, he taught our design class; in 2016, he died in an accident while on a business trip, just as I graduated.

Du Jiang said my father had looked after him during school, giving him five hundred yuan at his lowest point. My father was his benefactor, and Du Jiang claimed it was my father who gave him a second chance at life.

Then Du Jiang changed the subject, rolling up his pants to reveal his crippled leg. The muscles around his kneecap were charred black, sunken to the size of a fist, with glaring stitches across the skin. “Classmates,” he asked, “do you know how my leg was ruined?”

A female classmate chimed in, “Du Jiang, wasn’t your leg broken in that car accident years ago?”

Du Jiang shook his head. “No, no,” he replied, turning to a burly classmate across the table. “Yang Zhihong, you should know best, right?”

I knew Yang Zhihong well. Towering and fierce, he was the tallest and strongest in our class. Sitting in front of Du Jiang, he bullied him relentlessly. Whenever something displeased him, Du Jiang became his scapegoat. The worst incident left Du Jiang bloodied and kneeling, begging for mercy.

After graduation, Yang Zhihong didn’t amount to much either. He now worked as a trainer at a gym, his shoulders and arms adorned with tattoos. He’d gotten into plenty of fights and trouble—he even spent time in jail two years ago.

When Du Jiang brought up the past, Yang Zhihong blushed, awkwardly stood, and gave a sheepish bow. “Sorry, Boss Du, truly sorry. I was wrong back then. Young and foolish, didn’t think things through. Let me toast you as an apology. From now on, all grievances are wiped clean!”

Du Jiang sneered, “It’s fine, it’s fine. Actually, I should thank you. If you hadn’t broken my leg, I wouldn’t have gotten thirty thousand in compensation. It wasn’t much, but it became my startup capital after graduation. Without that money, there would be no Du Jiang, and no cruise ship for you to see today.”

Yang Zhihong shamelessly boasted, “Impressive, Boss Du, truly impressive. Let’s not talk about the past. If you need anything, just call me. If anyone dares bully you, I’ll bring my crew to back you up!”

Du Jiang shook his head, his face reddening. “Hehe, classmates, let me ask you—how much is dignity worth? How much is a leg worth? How much are four lives worth? Who can tell me? Who?”

Four lives?

Du Jiang, flushed and agitated, pressed us for answers. The faces around the table soured, especially our homeroom teacher, Mr. Cao, whose expression darkened. He quickly stood to diffuse the tension. “Du Jiang, the past is gone. Let’s not bring up unhappy things. You’ve had too much to drink; let me help you rest.”

But Du Jiang violently shrugged off Mr. Cao’s arm. “Cao Baoyang! Who do you think you are? What gives you the right to lecture me? Get lost!”

Sitting beside Du Jiang, I could feel his emotions spiraling out of control. His eyes were bloodshot, lips blackened, like a furious lion.

“None of you ever looked at yourselves honestly. Other than Zheng Yan, who here hasn’t bullied me? Who hasn’t spat at me? Cao Baoyang, Yang Zhihong, Gu Meijuan, Xu Jiaojiao—every one of you trampled my dignity!”

The atmosphere in the private room froze solid. What had been a warm reunion instantly turned icy.

Yang Zhihong erupted first, jabbing his finger at Du Jiang’s nose. “You think you’re so great, Du Jiang? Just because you’ve got some lousy money! We showed up out of respect, but don’t push it! We could mess you up then, and we can do it now!”

Mr. Cao, seeing things about to spiral, signaled to me. “Zheng Yan, talk to Du Jiang. Everyone’s just drunk. Don’t let this ruin your friendship. Please, talk to him!”

Our class belle, Gu Meijuan, joined in, grumbling, “What’s there to say, Mr. Cao? He’s just a nouveau riche. I’ve seen through Du Jiang’s intentions—inviting us here just to show off, to flaunt his money and make us look bad. I’ve met plenty of wealthy people; Du Jiang’s fortune is nothing. If I’d known he’d act like this, I wouldn’t have wasted my time at this trashy reunion. I have a flight to Guangzhou tomorrow for a runway show. I’m leaving!”

With Gu Meijuan’s declaration, other classmates stood up, expressing their desire to leave. No one enjoys being insulted.

I realized then that nearly all the classmates Du Jiang invited had some past grievance with him. The reunion was just a pretext; he’d gathered them here to humiliate them, to make them uncomfortable. What I didn’t understand was why he’d invited me as well. Did I have some unsettled score with him?

As some classmates prepared to leave, Du Jiang pointed at the quartz clock on the wall, his face twisted in a sinister grin. “Hehehe… My dear classmates, did you really think this was just a reunion? You’re wrong. I didn’t invite you here to eat—I brought you here to sample the legendary ten tortures…”

Everyone was bewildered. No one understood what Du Jiang meant—what special treatment? What ten tortures?

Yang Zhihong exploded, kicking over a stool and grabbing a wine bottle. “Du Jiang, you piece of trash! Let me teach you a lesson once more!”

Just as Yang Zhihong raised the bottle, his body trembled, the bottle slipped from his hand and crashed to the floor. His facial muscles convulsed violently, white foam spilling from his lips, and he staggered before collapsing.

Thud, thud, thud…

One after another, classmates fell, foaming at the mouth and fainting, leaving the private room in utter chaos. My own consciousness and vision blurred suddenly, and I too collapsed, unable to resist.

In the haze, I heard Du Jiang’s voice.

“The ten tortures begin…”