The short, overweight woman still refused to let it go, glaring at me as she snapped,
"Remember this! Outside of your counseling office, you're not allowed to have direct contact with inmates anywhere else in the prison! And the rest of you! He doesn't know the rules, but don't you know better?"
She went on scolding endlessly before finally turning to Sister Kang.
"The inmates are already saying a male officer showed up in the prison. They're getting overly emotional—how am I supposed to explain this to them?"
Sister Kang's patience was running thin. "Just tell them he's the prison's psychological counselor."
Seeing her expression, the captain immediately softened her tone.
"Right, right, it's not a big deal. Well then, Instructor Kang… what about the inmates in that block? I suggest we lock them all in solitary for a while, let them learn their lesson."
Our prison hierarchy is strict: at the top are the warden, the political commissar, the union chair, and the director of political affairs. Below them are the ward heads, deputy captains, and instructors. If you count all the deputy positions, it goes even further—deputy squad leaders, team leaders, and so on.
At the very bottom are the correctional officers. But even here there's a distinction: "prison police" is a broad term for everyone working in law enforcement inside the prison, including those in leadership positions—like Squad Leader Ma, the stout woman who shouted earlier.
Correctional officers like me and Li Yangyang, however, are lower-ranking staff—responsible for education, daily management, rehabilitation, and so forth.
Clearly, Sister Kang carried a lot of weight here. Even though the captain technically outranked her, she still seemed cautious in front of her.
Sister Kang waved the captain off.
"Handle it as you see fit. As for them…"
Then she turned to us.
"Remember this: no second chances! Get back to your posts. Zhang Fan, you stay."
Li Yangyang and the others quickly scattered, happy to be dismissed.
I stayed behind, uneasy. Was she about to single me out for punishment?
Instead, she asked, "You're curious about the prison, aren't you?"
I hesitated, then admitted, "Yeah… I am."
She nodded. "Fine. I'll show you around. But after this, don't go wandering on your own again."
"Thank you, Instructor," I said sincerely.
She led the way out of the office. I followed a few steps behind, my eyes betraying me as they lingered on her graceful figure and the rise of her chest. My thoughts wandered, recalling the night before with Xue Mingmei, and inevitably imagining what lay beneath Sister Kang's uniform.
Pointing to the barbed-wire-topped buildings, she explained, "Those are the cell blocks. The prison is divided into four units—A through D. D houses the most dangerous offenders. From D to A, the severity decreases."
We reached the exercise yard, where many inmates caught sight of me. Some began calling out, but with female guards nearby, none dared cause trouble.
Sister Kang's gaze swept over them. "Inmates get outdoor time once a week, rotating by unit. Other than visitation, this is what they look forward to most."
She then pointed to a massive factory building. "That's where they do labor reform. Thought reform takes place in the building behind it."
"Labor reform?" I asked under my breath.
"Yes. Through labor, they earn points. Points mean privileges—priority when buying goods, and even chances for sentence reduction."
No wonder the other day Squad Leader Ma shouted "points deducted," and the unruly inmates immediately calmed down.
Next, she showed me the medical exam area where new inmates are processed.
The prison was enormous. For more than half an hour she patiently introduced every key place I needed to know. Finally, we stopped in front of a shabby little house.
I asked, "What's this place?"
She didn't answer directly. "Don't even think about sneaking here on your own. That would be a serious violation."
Now my curiosity was burning—what exactly was this little house for?
That evening, after dinner, I returned to the dormitory and lay on my bed with a book. No computer, no phone, no internet—life felt unbearable.
A knock came at the door. I already knew it must be Li Yangyang.
I opened it, and sure enough, there she stood—holding a pack of cigarettes.
My eyes lit up. "Yangyang! Where'd you get these?"
She smiled at my excitement. "From a friend of mine."
Overjoyed, I tore the pack open and lit one up. Finally.
Two days ago I'd asked her if she could somehow get me cigarettes—never thought she'd come through this quickly.
"Yangyang, thank you," I said, exhaling deeply. "When I get paid, I'll give her the money."
"No need," she replied.
"What do you mean, no need?"
"She got them to give away. No one wanted them, so I gave her some money and took them. But when she found out they were for you, she refused to take the money."
"Then I'll at least pay you," I insisted.
She shook her head. "Forget it. Really."
I laughed softly. This girl… she definitely had a bit of a crush on me.
Curious, I asked, "So who was your friend planning to give them to?"
Yangyang sat down and said, "She was trying to curry favor with a leader—hoping to get transferred to another unit."
At the time, I didn't understand why the different units mattered so much. Later, I'd realize the workload, perks, and hidden opportunities varied greatly depending on where you were assigned.
People often ask, "Perks? In a prison?" Keep reading—you'll find out.
As we talked, Yangyang glanced nervously at my waist and whispered, "Brother Zhang… are you… feeling better?"
I frowned in confusion. "Feeling better? What do you mean?"
Her face flushed crimson. Looking down, she toyed with her hair, her shyness only adding to her charm.
"Last night… that inmate… didn't she bite you… down there?"
I couldn't help laughing. This innocent girl thought Xue Mingmei had bitten me, with no idea what had actually happened.
"Don't worry," I said, waving it off. "I'm fine."
I inspected the pack of cigarettes—Chunghwa. Soft pack. The expensive kind.
Damn. These people really didn't hold back when bribing leaders.
But then reality sank in—if I gave Yangyang money for a pack like this, sent some home, and tried to buy myself shoes, I'd be broke again. Life as a broke nobody was brutal.
Yangyang's voice cut in. "My friend said you're a good person. Today, you shouldered all the blame in front of the instructor and captain."
I shrugged. "It was my mess. How could I let you all take the fall?"
She sighed in relief. "I was so afraid the instructor would punish you. But she's really kind. Out of all the leaders here, she's the best."
"I think so too," I agreed.
Still, I worried for Yangyang. A sweet, naïve girl like her… how long could she survive in this place?
I asked if she'd ever seen a tall woman with long hair—the drunk woman who had been the reason I ended up here. She shook her head.
If that woman really was connected to the prison, she had to be someone from the leadership ranks. And Yangyang, being so new, would never have met her.
Saturday came, our one day off. After filing the paperwork and changing into street clothes, I was desperate to get out for some fresh air.
Crossing the yard toward the main gate, I was suddenly tackled by someone shouting,
"A man! A man! It's a man!"
I shoved her off in irritation. "Xue Mingmei! Have you completely lost your mind!?"
She only smiled warmly, tilting her head. In the sunlight, her face was half radiant, half sorrowful.
Glancing at the bandages on her head, I asked, "Your injury hasn't healed yet?"
She looked straight at me. "What's your name?"
Persistent, isn't she?
"Zhang Fan," I answered. "Like a sail catching the wind."
She laughed softly, then recited:
"Willows greet the early spring,
Brightness hides in solitude.
Winds rise to carry sails,
Soaring high into the clouds."
I froze, surprised. Who would've thought—she was a poet.
A female guard stormed over and yanked her away. "Move it! See a man and suddenly forget how to walk?"
It was the same guard I'd seen with her at the hospital.
As she was pushed along, Xue Mingmei glanced back at me, stuck out her tongue playfully, then disappeared into the crowd.
I turned my head, pretending not to watch. But inside, I felt a pang.
Even if it was only one night, some kind of bond had formed. Seeing her shoved and scolded like that… it hurt.
At the guard station, I finally got my phone back. God, I never realized how much I'd missed it.
I powered it on. No messages. No missed calls. Had my service been cut?
But once I stepped outside the prison walls, my phone went berserk—dozens of notifications flooding in.
Of course. The prison blocked all signals.
Over twenty missed calls from family, a few from my college roommate Wang Dapao, and several spam messages from China Mobile.
I called my father first. He'd been worried, not being able to reach me, though he knew I'd taken a job at the prison. I reassured him with a brief update about life inside.
He told me to work hard, not to offend the leaders. I asked about his health. He said he was getting better, but I knew he was only sparing me the truth.
Then I rang Wang Dapao—real name Wang Da. Back in college, I worked odd jobs to get by, often with nothing but the clothes on my back and my old high school uniform. Wang had given me his own clothes, bought me toiletries, and refused to take money even when I insisted. He was the only one in the dorm who truly respected me.
When he picked up, his voice was lazy. "Still working at that pet shop?"
I laughed. "No, I just stepped out of the women's prison."
"What the hell?" He panicked. "What did you do? Which detention center are you in?"
I burst out laughing. "Relax! I passed the civil service exam. I work at the women's prison."
He was stunned silent for a long time before finally asking if I had connections to get in.
"None of your business," I teased. "Anyway, you free to meet today?"
"Can't. I'm still on a business trip. I was actually going to help you find a job. Next week—we'll talk then."
"Fine. If that's all, your king shall hang up now."