Death was less torturous.
MingYu wanted to cry, but he stayed still, unmoving as his knees dug into the wooden floor, his legs numb and folded under his bum.
PingZe had sweat droplets forming by his hairline, but otherwise, he kept his posture. Xie Qiang had scrammed, knowing well what tortures awaited them if he stayed and so the wolf had fled, just in time.
Kneel, they had to kneel before Fan ZhiHao while he brewed tea. Ye WeiRu said it was to respect the tea, a ceremony of some kind. If they didn't kneel, he would puncture their knees, so MingYu and PingZe hurried to obey.
A barely audible whimper escaped MingYu's lips as needles shot up his thighs and stabbed him in his hips, radiating over his back. He had been in this position for what felt like hours already.
PingZe was stiff to the point he looked like a gust of wind could shatter him.
