I was somewhat surprised, yet not shocked, and just quietly followed him. Yang took me to a compartment in a microbiology lab in the main building. The exterior of the compartment was guarded by two militiamen from the College affiliated factory. I was deprived of freedom of movement once again! Interrogation no longer frightened me, as it had happened so often before. The question was how they would handle it. Running into the high tide of a political campaign, I might become a sacrificial victim. They might give me a political "hat" or “label”, or send me to "labor education", or whatever. I could only resign myself to the authority’s order. What an unpredictable cold spell in the late spring this was! The procedure of so-called "interrogation in solitary confinement" was to humble someone by having them write a confession, and make a self-criticism and self-derogation, all sort of officialese. I picked up a pen and wrote without making a draft. I marked "not drafting" on the paper which I formally submitted. I had long been accustomed to writing such things. Regarding my events of fleeing to Hong Kong I mentioned only the two which had actual results, but omitted those that were aborted. The next day, two members of the interrogation team interviewed me; one of them named Jie was a Party member in charge of xx Department; the other one might have been a newcomer. They sat across the table facing me. I was not sure if it was intentional or not, but they put a piece of paper on the table and calmly asked me what else I wanted to add. Catching a glimpse of what was written, I could see it was about Aunt Zhou contacting the Haifeng fisherman and being exposed by the blind fortune teller. I immediately admitted all that and wrote a supplement. That they offered such a hint was totally different from previous interrogations which had been threatening, intimidating or "squeezing toothpaste" types. Perhaps because I had always been in peace and had few conflicts with colleagues "Goodness will have a good reward". However, was this possible in the past? Now, after the Cultural Revolution, Mao Zedong's "relentless strike and cruel struggle" had been losing favor. A trace of warmth emerged in my cold heart. Later I was called in for further questioning. I was asked how I could so easily muddle through twice after being held at Xingning Detention Center. I saw no need to conceal anything and just explained what had happened. A member of the interrogation team, whom I remembered as the Party member in charge of General Affairs, said, "I know, I had been in Xingning during the Anti-Japanese War, where it was mountain area with less farming field, many people went out to make a living. After the liberation many people fled to Hong Kong. Fleeing to Hong Kong is not rare there." His remarks might make the others feel that Zeng Qing Si fleeing Hong Kong was influenced by the local environment. This, of course, could make me appear less personally culpable for my actions. Once again I wrote a confession (Later I knew it was the last time), at the end adding frankly: "I admit that escape was wrong, but I do not regret it. Because if I didn't escape, what would I be now: injured, disabled, or anything worse, who knows?" - This was really a subtle protest. Could anyone come up with facts to refute me? Once again I was deprived of freedom while in solitary confinement. Except for writing my confession, I had plenty of spare time. A set of "Selected Works of Mao Zedong" was prominently displayed, but actually I read books of Traditional Chinese Medicine, taking notes as I did so. They dared not prohibit this because TCM was acknowledged as traditional heritage. Before solitary confinement, I had been making extensive notes on the relationship between TCM and modern medical science. While in solitary, not knowing what might come next, I took every possible opportunity to write and often wrote late into the night, hoping to finish quickly. The militiamen never interfered. In fact, they were very friendly, sometimes chatting with me and exclaiming that I knew five foreign languages (I was only able to read them in medical literature), and had published an article in the national first-class medical journal, thus showing respect for me. Several times the militiamen consulted me about medicine, and one requested that I examine his youngster. Whenever I had a letter or money order from my parents in the mail room, they quickly brought it. Occasionally when I asked them to buy a snack outside, they were happy to help. Was this even possible in the past? After the Cultural Revolution, people's choice of “pro or con” had been somewhat changed and was evident even in small things. On one occasion, the head of the Armed Forces of the College (in charge of militia), a pompous official with a few strands of hair on his scarred head, came in with grand gestures for inspection. Seeing the TCM books on the desk, he reprimanded me with a stony face: "Study more of Chairman Mao’s works!" I ignored him. Anyway, Mao’s works already were displayed on the desk. A possible power struggle among authorities caused the situation to suddenly become tense. All my incoming and outgoing letters now had to be inspected beforehand. The militia guards carried rifles; when I wanted to refill my drinking water in the campus boiler room, an armed guard escorted me. Once as I started for water, the militiaman said, “You can go by yourself.” But I replied, "Yes, I can go by myself and I won't run away. But if I were seen with no escort, that might not be good for you." The guard saw my point and accompanied me with his rifle. Several times I was with a group under supervision ordered to labor on campus, often cleaning latrines. While several armed militiamen stood guard outside, we went in, swept first, and then flushed feces accumulated in the trough into the manure tank, stinking to high heaven, flies flying. Even more disgusting were maggots in the fecal trough and bloody menstrual paper discarded everywhere. Anyway, this was a rare experience in my life’s journey! One day, a member of the interrogation team said two visitors wanted to see me. Who were they, and what could be the matter? Following him to a small conference room, I found two fellow townsmen, Chen Luwen and Ouyang, the former a technician of the Provincial Third Construction unit, the latter an engineer of the Provincial Design Institute. They greeted me joyfully, "Nice to see you!" Making no further conversation, they handed me two boxes of moon cakes and cookies that had been opened for inspection, and then said good-bye. I was deeply moved and happy. After all the years of "class struggle every day", "draw clearly the line between ourselves and the enemy", and “disown all relatives”, they were not afraid of being implicated and had gone directly to the Interrogation Office to register to visit me. Such courage and personal loyalty were definitely unusual. Speaking with them about it later, they said: "What fear for? We are born with good family origin, and know that you won't have any problem." Once again I was reminded there were people who were decent, had their own thoughts, and were not easily distorted by pressure and propaganda. During this period of solitary confinement, the attitudes of the militia guard and some members of the interrogation team, as well as many other signs, revealed to me that the "official" and "people" also now marched to a different tune. In the past, even if this were the case, nobody dared to show it. A few days later, the lead militia guard, who was always friendly, escorted me to refill my drinking water. He suddenly told me, "They will let you out soon." I was surprised and asked, "How do you know?" He did not explain, only saying, "Yes." The very next day, the Interrogation Team informed me that my solitary confinement was lifted. Because classes had begun, I could no longer sleep in the lab. A member of the Security Office took me to a dormitory. My roommate was still in “labor education” in the countryside, leaving a small table assembled from wooden planks. There was also a pair of bunk beds. I decided to sleep on the lower bunk, so laid my books and clothes on the upper bunk. It felt good to be a step up from sleeping in the lab.