My little cotton dress with the cute bunny embroidery was gone, replaced by new padded clothes and trousers.
I remembered the woman and that man negotiating a price, and finally the man picked me up.
He kissed my cheek and said gently, "From now on, I'm your daddy."
At first, they were a gentle couple.
They gave me good food and fun things to play with.
When evening came, "Daddy" drew bathwater for me, and "Mommy" earnestly reminded him, "Make it warmer, don't let our precious boy catch cold."
He chuckled foolishly and kept saying okay.
But the moment my clothes were removed, his smile turned ashen.
Fists rained down on my face, my head, my belly.
I was beaten until I sat on the ground, wailing.
They erupted into a fierce argument, and in the end she dragged me out the door. It was the dead of winter, yet they didn't even give me a single piece of clothing.
Daddy walked and walked, trying to find that woman to return me.
But how could he find her?
The woman cursed the man for being stupid, for not checking before buying.
The man cursed the woman for being worthless, saying it was all because she couldn't bear children at thirty.
I heard their arguments every day. I had thought that was the worst life could get, until a year later when Mommy got pregnant.
Another year passed, and she had a son of her own.
I still remember the look in their eyes when they came home from the hospital carrying that baby boy.
I could never describe it.
That coldness, that disgust.
Why... it would have been better if she had never gotten pregnant. Why did she have to get pregnant in the end?
At least before that child was born, they didn't hit me so hard.
At least before that child died, they never left scars on my body.
Valerian suddenly asked me, "Why did your younger brother die?"
I froze, snapping back to reality.
Had I been telling him about my past without realizing it?
Maybe I'd had no one to confide in for so long, not since my husband passed away.
I said, "When I was in school, the teacher announced that the top exam scorers would get a reward — the school would fund a winter break trip to the city museum and youth center. That day I brought the ticket home, and Mommy was happy. She said my uncle who worked in the city was coming back for the holidays, and she'd let my little brother go with the school group to the city for fun. Uncle would pick him up and bring him home after a few days."
"But wasn't that your ticket?"
"Yeah. She made me tell the teacher I didn't want to go... But on the day my brother was supposed to come back, the bus crashed. He and my uncle never came back."
Valerian gasped.
I bit my lip, never forgetting that day.
She yanked me from my warm bed, and her blows hurt so deeply I'd remember them for the rest of my life.
"You killed your brother! The one who should have died was you!"
"You were sent by heaven to take his life! Why couldn't it have been you!"
"I had a lovely, obedient child, and he died in your place!"
Mommy...
Wasn't I always more obedient? Wasn't I?
If I had been just a little disobedient, if I had cried and said I really wanted to go... then my brother wouldn't have been in danger, right?
But even if I had, the only thing waiting for me would have been another beating.
Suddenly, a hand rested on my shoulder. Warm.
It was Valerian.
His voice was gentle: "When it hurts, just let yourself cr—"
I elbowed him in the head!
He didn't dodge in time and fell to the ground. I glanced at him and said coldly, "Who gave you permission to touch another man's wife?"
"I... I just wanted to comfort you."
"Been watching too many dramas? A woman being sad doesn't mean you can just grope her."
"S-sorry..."
"Stop stuttering when you apologize! Speak louder!"
"I'm really, truly sorry!"
I finally nodded, then returned to the driver's seat, locked the doors, turned on the AC, left the window cracked, and closed my eyes.
I was tired.
I don't know how long I dozed, but I heard someone knocking on the window.
I opened my eyes — it was already daylight.
I rolled down the window. Valerian said, "We've arrived!"
The ferry had docked at a simple wharf on a small island. The escorts drove us deeper into the island.
There was a large factory on the island. The vehicles stopped at the factory gates.
Screams came from the vehicle compartment — it was the security guard Warren Briggs, waking up. The escorts roughly dragged him out and hauled him toward the factory.
I asked Valerian, "All the villains get sent here?"
"Correct!"
"What exactly is this place?"
"This is the Badlands, a place specifically for garbage people to live out their lives!"
I said, "Garbage people?"
He nodded, then led me into the factory.
Pushing open the factory doors, I saw a massive workshop. Many workers wore tattered clothes, shackles on their bodies, fastened to their workstations.
Valerian walked over to a man and pointed at him. "This guy drove drunk and killed a pregnant woman. Got sentenced to two years in prison. After he got out, we caught him."
Then he pointed to a girl nearby. She dressed seductively, but it was already cold, and she shivered while working constantly. Valerian said, "Don't let her pretty face fool you — she's done despicable things. She and her boyfriend had a fight and she threw their wedding photos out the window. The falling object killed an innocent student. She got four years, and just two days after release, we grabbed her."
I swallowed hard. "What does all this mean?"
Valerian told me this was what the Badlands was all about.
He said the philosophy of the Badlands was fairness!
Drunk driving kills someone — sentenced to under three years. Is that fairness?
Intentionally obstructing police cars, fire trucks, ambulances — three demerit points and a 200 yuan fine. Is that fairness?
Dropping objects from height, killing someone — three to seven years, or under three years for lighter cases. Is that fairness?
One evil act from a villain can cost innocent lives. The law punishes them, but in the Badlands's eyes, that punishment isn't nearly enough! Why should innocent taxpayers support people like this?
What kind of treatment do sinners sent to the Badlands receive?
Housing? Build it themselves in shackles!
Food? Spending money on sinners was out of the question. Expired food that should have been destroyed was shipped in batch after batch.
Clothing? Same principle — no money for sinners. Discarded rags and blankets from society, or substandard products meant for destruction, were shipped here in bulk.
Waste should go to "waste people."
They weren't locked up for three years and then released. They would labor day and night without end.
I couldn't help asking, what about what they produced? Was this a factory churning out profits for Judgment Tower?
He pointed toward the corridor and told me to see for myself.
I walked to the corridor and froze.
One corridor connected several workshops.
At the entrance of each workshop sat the products these "sinners" had made.
Pencil cases, books, backpacks, uniform small clothes and cotton blankets.
Valerian told me everything the sinners produced would be donated free of charge to Hope Elementary Schools in impoverished areas.
Free transportation, free donation — making sure every product reached the children who needed it.
Valerian stood beside me and said earnestly, "See? This is the Badlands! Do evil people deserve to be treated well? Innocent people die from their wickedness. A thousand apologies can never equal the value of a lost life. These people's only remaining value is to continuously contribute to society and wash away their sins."