Chapter 4.1

Mo Zimu looked up and saw a towering man, easily over 1.9 meters tall, standing before him. His buzz-cut hair and sharp, chiseled features gave him the look of a Russian or perhaps a Northern European. His skin had a warm honey tone, and his exposed biceps were as solid as iron.

His prominent brow ridge made his eyes appear deep-set. His broad double eyelids drooped slightly, giving him a naturally mocking expression. At first glance, he looked like trouble, though to women, he might have been dangerously attractive.

But Mo Zimu wasn’t a woman. Instinctively, and perhaps inherently, he disliked the rogue-like aura emanating from this man.

All of a sudden, he became the focus of the entire exercise yard. Every filthy, lewd gaze in the area landed squarely on him. Worse, a large hand was firmly pressing against his buttock. Acting on reflex, he smacked the bear-like paw away and snapped, “Get the fuck off me!”

His low, angry voice cut through the air, and the once-rowdy atmosphere suddenly tensed.

From behind the man, someone drawled in a chilling tone, “Boss, looks like someone’s telling you to fuck off.”

It dawned on Mo Zimu that he might’ve just offended a prison big shot.

Tom stepped forward with a nervous laugh, trying to smooth things over. “Boss Ivan, he’s new. Just got in yesterday. Uncle Norton kept him up all night, and I haven’t had the chance to explain Mammon’s rules to him yet.”

Mo Zimu kept his head down, but Ivan casually brushed Tom aside, stepped up to him, grabbed his wrist and pinned him against the door.

The yard instantly erupted like someone had injected pure adrenaline into the crowd.

The wiry man with the eerie voice from earlier shouted, “Fuck him up!”

“The prisoners went wild, fists pounding the air as they chanted, ‘Fuck him! Fuck the little bitch!'”

Mo Zimu watched as Ivan’s stubbled face leaned in closer. He struggled with all his strength but couldn’t budge an inch.

Ivan pressed his lips against Mo Zimu’s, running his tongue along the seam of his mouth. His breath was heavy with the scent of cigarettes and something distinctly masculine, strong but not entirely repulsive.

Mo Zimu stayed still, waiting for the tongue to push past his lips, but Ivan saw right through him.

The man murmured by his ear, “Specky, you were planning to bite me, huh?”

Then, he straightened up, let go of Mo Zimu, and spat on the ground. “You might be a horny little slut throwing yourself at me on the first meeting, but I don’t give a fuck about your tight little ass.”

The crowd burst into laughter again as Ivan swaggered off with his posse, leaving Mo Zimu humiliated and fuming. His whole body shook with rage. This was the worst defeat he had ever tasted.”

Tom and Tommy, on the other hand, heaved sighs of relief and pulled him toward a quieter corner.

“Thank God Ivan didn’t take it any further,” Tom said, making a sign of the cross over his chest. “Who would’ve thought you’d offend the Black Bear of A Block on your first day here? I can’t tell if you’re lucky or not.”

“Whether he’ll come back to cause trouble is still uncertain,” Tommy said, his dark face creased with worry.

“Who is he?” Mo Zimu interjected.

“The big shot of A Block. He has quite the background. Before being imprisoned, he was one of the prominent figures in the American Mafia, reportedly a rising star of the Bonanno family. He took the fall for the young master and was sentenced to twenty years in prison. Because of this, he’s highly respected here. His philosophy is simple. ‘Don’t provoke me, and I won’t provoke you.’

“While he’s not as twisted as the big shot of B Block, Teabag, if you offend him, he’s no less ruthless. The last person who crossed him was strung up in the main warehouse, screaming all night before finally dying. It’s said that when they collected the body, they had to be careful to avoid bits of flesh falling off,” Tom explained with a mix of exaggeration and excitement, as though even recounting the gory tale thrilled him.

“Either way, our group is too weak. Let’s just hope Ivan won’t bother holding a grudge,” Tommy said, his face clouded with worry.

Mo Zimu plucked a blade of wild grass, stuck it in his mouth, and stayed silent.

The one-hour exercise time ended quickly, and the prisoners transitioned to indoor activities. Tommy and Tom led Mo Zimu around, aimlessly wandering. In an unexpected stroke of luck, Tom managed to get three sticks of gum and handed one to each of them.

Mo Zimu wasn’t fond of crowded places. During their roaming, he discovered a library, surprisingly equipped with several computers, none of which were in use.

“You can get online here!” Mo Zimu exclaimed excitedly.

“There’s nothing you can do with it. Porn sites, novels, movies, everything is blocked. Even writing a letter has to go through a review process. It’s as dull as trying to sleep with a woman in a chastity belt,” Tom grumbled, yanking a cable and cursing. “Shit! Look, even the wires have been gnawed through by rats.”

Mo Zimu seemed entirely unbothered by Tom’s complaints. He ran his hand over the keyboard and the screen before murmuring, “I like it.”

Before the others could respond, a sharp cry came from the corner of the room. Mo Zimu turned toward the sound and saw a skinny, red-haired man pinning a younger inmate against a desk, violently thrusting into him. The red-haired man moaned loudly, “God, I love desks! This damned prison should provide more reading tables.”

He seemed to think himself funny, but the three men standing behind him, staring intently at his thrusting hips, clearly weren’t paying attention to his attempt at humor.

The victim, a young man who had entered the prison with Mo Zimu, was sprawled face-down on the desk, his legs propped up on a stack of books to raise his hips higher for easier access. Blood trickled down his thighs, pooling on the floor.

He looked like he was on the verge of passing out. He kept sliding off the stack of books, only to be yanked back up by the red-haired man, who continued relentlessly. The three men waiting their turn stood to the side, pants undone, watching impatiently.

Mo Zimu took a step forward, but Tommy quickly stopped him, whispering, “Don’t get involved. That’s Teabag from B Block.”

“But they’re going to kill him!” Mo Zimu whispered back.

Tom also grabbed his arm, hissing softly, “Don’t drag us into this!”

Teabag suddenly shuddered, his body convulsing as he closed his eyes, lost in the throes of climax.

Mo Zimu lowered his head, remaining silent for a moment before turning and walking toward the door. Tommy and Tom let out sighs of relief.

It wasn’t until they had exited the library that Tom and Tommy finally relaxed.

Mo Zimu leaned against the door, fiddling with the gum wrapper in his hand while basking in the sunlight. Sensing his sour mood, Tom and Tommy chose not to disturb him and instead stood at the doorway, chatting quietly to themselves.

Suddenly, the fire alarm blared, and the automatic barriers came down. Prisoners scrambled around in panic, trying to assess the situation.

Tom noticed that Mo Zimu seemed indifferent, standing there calmly.

The fire, as it turned out, originated in the library, a place typically occupied by mice rather than people. And the cause was a short circuit in one of the computer cables. Somehow, two severed wires had been stuck together using chewing gum.

Teabag was drenched by the sprinkler, looking like a drowned rat, which secretly pleased almost everyone who had been at risk of their anus because of him. Even Tom chuckled to himself, saying, “Teabag has really become a tea bag this time.”

A few days later, Teabag retaliated by brutally beating up one of A Block inmates. This incident sparked a not-so-small clash between A and B Block.

C Block, where Mo Zimu and the others were, remained neutral, watching the fights from the sidelines. Tom was thoroughly entertained. He spent his days grinning and hanging by the bars to watch the commotion. Mo Zimu, however, acted as though he was completely oblivious to it all.

Then, one day, everything took a sudden turn.

On this particular day, Mo Zimu and Tom went to shower together. Mo Zimu always waited until the end of shower time to go in, quickly rinsing off before leaving.

Luckily, C Block was usually scheduled last, so by the time he went in, there wasn’t much hot water left, but there were also fewer people.

Tom had grown accustomed to Mo Zimu’s habit of showering in the corner stall, chalking it up to Asian modesty. After finishing their showers, Mo Zimu wrapped himself in a towel, still wearing his large glasses, and went out to get dressed.

That was when a group of men suddenly burst into the bathroom. They grabbed Mo Zimu, twisted his arms behind his back, and pinned him to the wet, slippery floor.

Tom was startled, and upon closer inspection, he noticed the leader of the group was none other than Ivan. He murmured nervously, “Boss Ivan, we…”

Ivan cut him off coldly, “This has nothing to do with you. If you don’t want to get involved, then get out.”

Tom hesitated for a moment, muttered something under his breath, then quickly grabbed his towel and left.

Mo Zimu was pinned to the floor, his wet bangs sticking to his forehead. Despite wearing his dull-looking glasses, there was still an air of innocence and vulnerability about him that made him seem both pure and pitiable.

Ivan propped one foot on a nearby chair, tapping a razor in his hand as he looked down at him. “I didn’t expect someone like you, with no ability to protect yourself, to have such nerve.”

“I don’t understand what you mean, Boss Ivan. If you’re referring to the incident where I accidentally offended you, you’ve already punished me for it,” Mo Zimu replied calmly.

Ivan’s face, usually cold and stern, unexpectedly broke into a smile. He made a slight gesture, and someone immediately grabbed Mo Zimu’s hair, pulling it back to force him to look Ivan directly in the eye.

After studying him for a moment, Ivan said, “Let me make this clear. You should know, in this prison, I know about every single screw that comes in, let alone three sticks of gum. You messed with Teabag and had the nerve to frame one of my men.”

A wiry man sneered from the side, “You nearly got me two broken ribs. How are we settling this score?”

Ivan extended his hand and yanked away the towel covering Mo Zimu’s lower body. The men holding him immediately spread his legs wide, leaving him completely exposed.

Mo Zimu struggled frantically, but his resistance was laughable in the face of these hardened inmates.

Ivan clicked his tongue and shook his head. “Oh, now you’re scared? Don’t you think it’s a little too late for that?”

Mo Zimu bit his lip and said, “You said you weren’t interested in me.”

“I’m not interested in your ass,” Ivan replied, pulling out the razor and letting it lightly brush against the inside of Mo Zimu’s thigh. “But I am interested in your front.”

Mo Zimu’s eyes widened in terror. He panted heavily, his whole body trembling as he stared at the gleaming blade. Ivan let out a sinister smile and said, “This is your lesson, one you’ll never forget.”

“No, no—Boss Ivan, I…” Mo Zimu stammered. He was trembling so much that he couldn’t even finish his sentence.

“What are you trying to say?” Ivan leaned in closer. Sticks, with a mocking tone, chimed in, “He’s saying he’d rather use his ass.” The group erupted into laughter.

“It’s too late.” Ivan moved the blade toward his lower body. Mo Zimu shut his eyes tightly in agony.

The blade touched his skin, but the excruciating pain he was expecting didn’t come. Instead, he heard a soft scraping sound.

To his astonishment, Ivan was shaving him.

Mo Zimu opened his eyes, only to see Ivan shrug and say, “Even if you don’t trust me, you should trust Gillette.”

Staring at the hair on the razor blade, Mo Zimu was overcome with shame. His trembling worsened, far more than before.

Ivan wiped the hair off the blade with his hand, rolled it between his fingers, and let it fall onto Mo Zimu’s body. “Kid, you haven’t even grown all your hair, yet you dare to play tricks in prison. This is your warning. Next time, I won’t be so lenient.”

With that, he motioned for his men to let Mo Zimu go. Sticks angrily slapped Mo Zimu’s ass. “At least let me have a taste of him. It’s such a waste. Let’s hope Teabag doesn’t tear your tight ass apart.”

Ivan replied coldly, “If you’re not satisfied, I can send you to B Block. Plenty of asses for you to taste there.”

Sticks didn’t dare say another word. He cast a sinister glance at Mo Zimu before following Ivan out.

Mo Zimu picked up his towel and wrapped it around his body. Even after they were gone, he sat on the floor for a long time, unable to get up.

For the first time, he felt utterly powerless.

He realized that in this prison, if there were predators, he was at the very bottom of the food chain.

He recalled something Rong Qing had once said. No matter how tame a wolf is, it’s still a wolf. No matter how fierce a sheep is, it’s still a sheep. If you’re a sheep, you must abide by the rules of the food chain.

And he, without a doubt, was the sheep destined to be devoured.

He stood up, and as he slowly walked out, he found Tom waiting anxiously outside the door, a flicker of guilt crossing his face

“Are you okay?”

“I’m fine.”

“Did you get hurt?”

“No.”

“Alright, I’ve got some top-notch medicinal wine. It’s from one of your Chinese martial arts masters.”

“Thanks.”

Mo Zimu let Tom help him back to the dormitory. Although he hadn’t sustained any physical injuries, his legs still felt weak for some reason.