The passage was hidden behind a tangle of vines and a rusted iron gate that had long since been forgotten. Chen Mo pushed through the underbrush, his breath shallow with anticipation. The lock on the gate was new, a gleaming silver padlock that he had purchased himself three days earlier. He fitted the key, turned it with a soft click, and the gate swung open on oiled hinges. Beyond it, a narrow corridor of overgrown flagstones led to a courtyard that had once been a kindergarten. The building stood two stories high, its windows painted with faded cartoon characters, the playground beyond it overrun with weeds and rusting slides. No one had been here for years, except for him. He had found the place by accident, and he had prepared it meticulously.
The air inside the courtyard was still, warm with the afternoon sun. Chen Mo stepped through the grass, his shoes sinking slightly into the soft earth. He listened. No traffic, no voices, no footsteps. Only the distant hum of insects and the flutter of a bird overhead. He smiled, a gentle, practiced smile that did not reach his eyes. This was his garden now.
At the far end of the playground, near a chipped plastic playhouse, he saw a small figure. A girl in a pink dress, her hair tied in two short braids. She was crouching, poking at something on the ground with a stick. She was alone. Chen Mo's heart beat faster. He had scouted this place for weeks, and he knew that the children came here only rarely, stragglers from the nearby village who snuck through a gap in the fence. Today, only one had come. He approached slowly, his steps deliberately soft, and when he was close enough he called out in a kindly voice.
"Hello there. What are you doing?"
The girl looked up. She was tiny, her face round and her eyes large and dark. She clutched the stick to her chest as if it could protect her. "I'm playing," she said, her voice high and thin.
"Playing all by yourself?" Chen Mo crouched down, putting himself at her eye level. "That's no fun. What's your name?"
"Xiao Die."
"Pretty name. I'm Uncle Chen. I work here." He gestured vaguely toward the building. "Do you want to see the inside? There are toys. Lots of toys."
Xiao Die hesitated. She looked toward the fence, then back at him. Her mother had told her not to talk to strangers. But this man had a kind face, and he spoke softly. And it was so boring alone. She nodded.
Chen Mo led her through a side door into the building. The hallway was dim, the linoleum floor scuffed and dusty. He guided her past empty classrooms, past overturned chairs and scattered papers, until they reached a small room near the back. It had no windows. He had cleared it the week before, removing the old furniture and laying down a thin mattress on the floor. A single bulb hung from the ceiling, casting a weak yellow light.
Xiao Die stopped at the doorway. "Where are the toys?" she asked.
Chen Mo stepped around her and closed the door. The lock clicked. "In a minute," he said. He turned to face her, and this time he did not bother to keep the gentleness in his voice. "First, we're going to play a different game."
Xiao Die backed away, her back hitting the wall. "I want to go home."
"Not yet." Chen Mo moved toward her, his movements slow and deliberate. He knelt in front of her and placed his hands on her shoulders. She was so small, so fragile. The tremor that ran through her body sent a thrill through him. "Don't cry," he said, but her eyes were already filling with tears. "Be a good girl, and it won't hurt too much."
He pressed her down onto the mattress. She struggled, her little fists beating against his chest, but he was far too strong. He pinned her arms above her head with one hand and with the other he unbuckled his belt. The leather slid through the loops with a hiss. Xiao Die sobbed, her legs kicking uselessly. He pulled her pink dress up, revealing her thin cotton underpants. He tore them aside, exposing her small, flat crotch.
His own pants fell to his knees. His erection was stiff, veined, and dark against the pale skin of his thighs. He positioned himself between her legs, and she began to scream. But the walls were thick, and no one would hear.
He pushed. The resistance was immediate, a tight ring of flesh that gave way only under force. Xiao Die let out a high, piercing shriek that cut off into a choked gasp as he drove himself into her. Her tiny body jerked beneath him. He felt his flesh slide into a wet, hot space that was far too small, far too tight. It clamped around him in spasms of pain. He pulled back and thrust again, harder.
Tears streamed down her face, mixing with snot and saliva. Her legs were shaking, her whole body convulsing with each brutal push. A thin trickle of blood ran down the inside of her thigh, mingling with the urine that had already soaked the mattress beneath her. She coughed, choked, whimpered. Chen Mo leaned over her, his face close to hers, his breath ragged.
"Shh," he whispered. "It's almost over."
He thrust again, faster now, the rhythm building. Her small vagine was slick with blood and her own fluids, and the friction was exquisite. He drove deep, held, then drove again. Xiao Die's cries had become weak, little more than mewling sounds, her body limp and trembling. He closed his eyes and let the pressure build, and with a final, shuddering push he came, spilling his seed deep inside her. He stayed there for a long moment, breathing heavily, his weight pressing her flat into the mattress.
When he finally pulled out, he looked down at her. She lay still, her dress bunched around her waist, a spreading stain of blood and urine and semen pooling beneath her. Her eyes were open but unfocused, her mouth slack. Chen Mo stood, tucked himself back into his pants, and smoothed his shirt. He felt calm now. Satisfied.
He unlocked the door and stepped out, leaving her on the mattress. He would come back for her later. There was a basement room he had prepared, with a cot and a lock on the outside of the door. But first, he wanted to walk through the garden, to enjoy the quiet and the knowledge that this was only the beginning.