The prison finally fell silent under the harsh threats of the female guards.
An older officer swept her flashlight across the cells until the beam stopped on me.
My chest was bare, streaks of blood smeared across my abdomen and waist.
The blood wasn't mine—it belonged to the beautiful inmate who had been struck earlier. When her hand, sticky with the blood from her forehead, brushed against me, it left its mark.
The officer barked an order:
"Take the man—and that woman inside—to the hospital."
"Yes, ma'am!" came the reply.
What she had told me earlier—I'd half-believed it then, and I still wasn't sure now.
Sneaking a man into a women's prison wasn't something done lightly. But if it had happened before… then a man could be "played" to death here. That much was believable.
At the city prison hospital, I insisted I was fine.
They pushed me downstairs and onto an arranged vehicle.
In the car, my nerves still rattled, I remembered what Sister Ma had said: two years ago, a man had been brought inside. He didn't make it out alive.
A male doctor examined me, confirmed nothing was wrong, cleaned the blood off my skin, and left.
Then the female officer who had escorted me in stepped into the room.
"You alright?" she asked.
"I'm fine. It wasn't even my blood. Sorry for the trouble—dragging you all out here in the middle of the night."
She tossed a hospital gown at me. "Good. Remember that."
I slipped it on and muttered, "The women inside… they must be too starved for attention."
Her face stiffened. "I'm a woman inside the prison. Are you talking about me?"
I forced a nervous smile. "No, no, I meant the inmates."
"Rest," she said curtly. "Call me if you need anything."
As she turned to leave, I asked, "That inmate—the one with the head wound. She's here too?"
"In the next room," she said quickly, before hurrying off.
Lying in bed, I couldn't stop thinking—would I be punished for this?
I'd only just arrived. If I was dismissed so soon, it would be too pitiful. Curiosity really does kill.
The fear gnawed at me until I decided to find her again, to ask what kind of punishment I might face.
But when I stepped out, she was nowhere in sight.
At the next ward's door, another officer stood watch over the beautiful inmate.
I knocked. She turned, saw me, and frowned. "What is it?"
I smiled. "Sister, can you step out for a moment? I just want to ask something."
Reluctantly, she walked over. "What is it?"
I apologized first. "Sorry. I caused trouble, dragged you all into this."
Her face softened. "Just don't do it again. Luckily, nothing serious happened."
"I won't," I promised quickly. "Never again. But… what happens to someone like me? Would I be dismissed?"
"Dismissed? Probably not. But punishment is inevitable. That depends on the leaders."
Relief washed over me. At least I wouldn't be thrown out.
Then she asked where the other officer had gone. I shook my head.
She sighed. "Can you watch the inmate for me?"
"What? I can't. What if she escapes? I can't bear that responsibility."
"She's shackled. She won't run. Just watch her for a bit. I'll be back in no more than three hours."
"Three hours? That's forever."
"It'll pass quickly." She shut the door and hurried away.
Left inside, I turned to the inmate. She lay on the bed, one wrist cuffed.
Her head was wrapped in bandages, her beauty somehow made sharper by the pallor of pain.
The sight stirred a helpless sympathy—like gazing at a tragic heroine from a painting.
I sat by her bed. The mattress shifted, and slowly, she opened her eyes.
Seeing me, she stared, then suddenly grabbed my arm, pulling me toward her with startling strength.
The same force she'd used in the cell—resistance was useless.
She tried to sit up, but the cuff restrained her. Half risen, clutching me close, she whispered hoarsely, "A man… finally, a man…"
…
Later, when the storm of emotion subsided, she lay limp, calm once more.
Her fingers brushed my knee gently. "What's your name?"
I hesitated. If she spoke of this later, what would happen to me?
"You're worried I'll tell, aren't you?" she said, her eyes sharp, almost amused.
My brow furrowed. Such a clever woman.
"Do you really think I'd tell anyone?" she murmured. "I'd rather not. I might want this again."
Her gaze darkened, her tone teasing.
Who was she really? A streetwalker caught and locked away?
"You're too bold," I said quietly. "Too bold for someone so beautiful."
She laughed, a soft ripple. "And who do women dress up for, if not for men?"
Her words startled me. In prison, dressed up for who?
She went on, "Here, beauty means nothing. Years go by unseen, untouched. I thought I'd wither away."
Pointing at the water glass, she asked, "Will you hand me that?"
I gave it to her. She drank, then reclined once more.
"What did you do to end up here?" I asked, before realizing the cruelty of the question.
Her smile vanished. "None of your business."
The coldness in her eyes was a wall. I regretted asking—it was salt in a wound.
I excused myself to the restroom. "You won't try to escape, will you?"
She stared at the ceiling, voice hollow. "Escape to where?"
At the corridor's end, I wandered the wrong way before a nurse directed me.
On my way back, I heard a faint cry from the stairwell beyond the emergency exit.
Pressing my ear to the door, I peered through the crack—
The male doctor was entangled with the female officer who'd given me the hospital gown earlier.
So that's where she went. And the other one, gone for "three hours"? Likely the same.
Startled by approaching footsteps, I ducked into the restroom before hurrying back.
If the inmate escaped, this wouldn't be a small matter.
When I returned, she smiled faintly. "You're not a guard, are you?"
"I'm a new prison counselor," I told her.
She laughed, light and musical.
"What's funny?"
"I'm happy, can't I be?"
"Happy about what?"
She leaned closer. "Be my boyfriend. I'll pay you."
Her audacity startled me. I brushed it off. "In your dreams."
But my thoughts shifted—she was in the same cell as Sister Qu. "Why did they attack her?" I asked.
"Who?" she tilted her head.
"Your cellmate. When I came, you were all surrounding her."
"You know her?"
"She came to see me once, for counseling."
"That's hardly knowing her," she scoffed.
"So why attack her?"
"You're curious," she teased.
"Yes."
"You'll learn, in time."
"Were you extorting money from her?" I pressed.
Her eyes sharpened. "Stop asking. In this place, knowing too much only brings trouble."
A warning.
Her words made me wonder—was it not the inmates demanding money, but someone higher up?
She studied me. "What's your name?"
"And yours?" I countered.
"Xue Mingmei," she said.
Her name suited her—like a bright, dazzling figure on a crowded street.
Before I could give mine, the officer returned, scolding her sharply: "What are you laughing at? Middle of the night and you're still awake?"
The inmate ignored her.
I stood quickly, slipping out. But at the door she called after me, "Your name—I still don't know it."
I opened my mouth, but the officer slammed the door shut.
Back in my ward, I lay down, restless until morning.
The next day, as soon as I returned to the prison, I was summoned to Instructor Kang's office.
Inside, the girls from last night—including Li Yangyang—stood silently, looking chastised.
Beside Kang stood a short, stout woman berating them.
It was, of course, about last night.
When I walked in, Kang asked, "Well? Explain what happened."
I took the blame. "Instructor, it was my fault. I got curious, wanted to see the inmates, and…"
I told the story, omitting details, then added, "Punish me alone. It wasn't their fault."
Kang stayed silent.
The stout woman rounded on me, furious:
"Why are you even here? You know you're not allowed to interact with inmates directly!"
Kang cut in quickly, "Captain, he didn't know. He's a counselor, not trained like academy officers."
Gratitude swelled in me. Cold as she was normally, tonight she defended me. Maybe I'd be spared.
The stout woman paused, then snapped again. "No one told you the rules?"
Kang admitted, "It's my fault. I didn't warn him."