[B] Chapter 1

Translator: MysticRain

01

Perhaps you had heard of the sexual orientation correction center?

I had heard of it.

It was an iron-walled prison built by Satan for us, impenetrable, and tried to suffocate us alive.

But fortunately, I still breathe.

That year, I had just finished my 18th birthday and the college entrance examination. I was beginning to enjoy a summer vacation that was supposedly free of burden and would last for nearly three months.

I thought I would have a good life just like everyone around me.

However, one day when I came home, I found the atmosphere in my home was heavy.

My parents were sitting in the living room. On the coffee table in front of them were some of my magazines and notebooks.

I stood at the door and suddenly wanted to run away.

When my dad saw me come back, he grabbed a magazine and threw it at me. I dodged, but a few seconds later, he punched me, and I fell to the ground.

Since I was a child, I have never been beaten. My parents almost doted on me, but this time, I was beaten very painfully and I was scared.

I heard crying and swearing, and then my mother shouted something heart-rendingly toward my dad, and he stopped.

The situation of that day was so chaotic that I often couldn’t figure out which happened before which. In fact, I wasn’t sure whether my dad hit me first or threw the magazine at me first.

But I clearly remembered that my mother opened my diary.

Did you guys like to keep a diary when you were a teenager?

Every night we would hide in our room with the desk lamp on, pressing the diary under heavy exercise books and write down all the turbulence of our youth because we have nowhere else to pour out our hearts.

My mother tore out a page and held it up in front of me.

I couldn’t see what was written on it at all because her hands were shaking too much, and I had just been beaten up by my father, making me a bit dizzy.

She asked me: “Is this true?”

I asked: “What?”

Then my father slapped me again. This was the first time I knew that this man was so violent.

My mother began to read my diary in front of me. On it was written that I fantasized about having sex with a sports star, his muscular lines were sexy and fascinated me.

This was the first time that our family had openly discussed “sex”. I didn’t expect it to be done in this way.

She read a passage and couldn’t go on because I wrote too much.

I knew those passages were very obscene, but which adolescent boy doesn’t have a little secret desire.

I don’t think I was wrong.

I said: “I like boys.”

After that, I was beaten and sent to the hospital.

I stayed in the hospital for two days. On the third day, my mother said: “Your father and I have found a summer school for you. It will be for two months, and you will report to it tomorrow.”

What I was thinking at that time was, ‘that’s great, I don’t want to go home at all’.

But I didn’t think that place was worse than at home.

The so-called “sexual-orientation correction center” had a gorgeous and hypocritical coat, and the sign hanging outside was “psychological rehabilitation center”.

Standing at the door, I asked my mother: “I don’t have any psychological problems, why do you want me to come here?”

Without saying anything, she quickly led me inside.

This was a boarding school. She led me into the yard as I dragged my suitcase, confused.

I was tricked into coming here and almost died here.

When I told Song Yuanxi about this matter, he said: “The day before you came, a boy stabbed his father to death at the door and committed suicide.”

How ironic.

At the gate of the “psychological rehabilitation center,” the “patient” flared up.

In fact, many times we always say that human beings have something called “premonition”, but in truth is, we often cannot sense the danger approaching.

Just like at that time, when we walked into the three-story small white building and stood in the hall, I thought, well, psychological recovery is better than being subjected to my mom’s emotional abuse and my dad’s beating at home.

I didn’t want to come here, but I didn’t want to go home even more.

At that time, I even thought I had chosen the path that had the best chance of survival, but I didn’t think it was a trap at all.

There were several times I wondered if humans would choose to live like this today if they knew they were going to die tomorrow. I wanted to ask my parents if they would regret sending me here if they knew I was living like this.

I think they will probably feel that my “correction” was not enough.

In short, I followed my mother well-behaved and went through the formalities that day. Afterward, she was told she could leave and pick me up again two months later from today. During this period, she could not come here to see me unless they called her.

My mother didn’t even look at me and just thanked the man in a shirt and tie with a white coat.

She said: “I’ll leave this child to you. Please help him.”

I had my cell phone confiscated along with all of my personal belongings, and a person gave me a cardboard box containing two sets of uniforms and some necessities.

I said: “At least let me take my underwear out of the suitcase.”

The person who issued the items to me, said with a straight face: “No, there are new ones in there.”

When I followed him to the dormitory building, I suddenly felt that it was like a prison, and I was a disciplined and restricted prisoner.

I knew that afternoon, my feeling was right. Everyone here was a prisoner, or even worse than a prisoner.