Prisoner of Paradise

The early September sun hung low and golden over the gates of No. 1 High School, casting long shadows across a courtyard thrumming with the noise of new beginnings. Lin Wanzhen clutched the strap of her backpack with both hands, her heart fluttering like a caged bird against her ribs. She had spent the entire summer dreaming of this day—new uniform, new friends, a fresh start away from the narrow streets and heavier expectations of her old neighborhood.

The opening ceremony was moments away. Students streamed past her in waves of pressed white shirts and dark blue skirts, laughing and calling out to one another. Wanzhen tried to steady her breathing. *You belong here,* she told herself. *You passed the entrance exam. You earned this.*

She followed the crowd toward the main auditorium, her eyes fixed on the tall glass doors ahead. The marble steps were slick with dew, and she took them carefully, one at a time.

That was when she saw the girl.

She stood at the top of the steps like a queen surveying her domain—flanked by two sycophants, her uniform immaculate, her hair falling in perfect waves over her shoulders. A thin silver chain glittered at her throat, catching the light with every small movement. She wasn't looking at Wanzhen. She was laughing at something one of her friends had said, her voice sharp and musical, the sound of someone who had never been told no.

Wanzhen tried to step around her, but a sudden push from behind—someone jostling through the crowd—sent her stumbling forward. Her shoulder collided with the girl's back, hard enough to knock them both off balance.

The girl spun around. Her laughter died.

"Watch where you're going!" Her eyes swept over Wanzhen with open contempt. "You're going to ruin my shirt."

"I'm so sorry," Wanzhen said, her face burning. "Someone pushed me, I didn't mean to—"

"Didn't mean to?" The girl's lips curled into a smirk. She looked at her friends. "Did you hear that? She didn't mean to. How clumsy."

One of the friends snickered. "Maybe she needs glasses, Su."

Su. Wanzhen's stomach dropped. Su Yaqing. The daughter of Su Rong, boss of the largest underground syndicate in the province. Everyone knew the name. Everyone knew what the Su family could do.

"Please, I really am sorry," Wanzhen repeated, bowing her head slightly. She wanted to disappear. "I'll be more careful."

"You will," Su Yaqing said, and something in her voice made the apology feel like a threat. Then she turned and walked into the auditorium, her friends trailing behind like shadows.

Wanzhen exhaled. The moment passed. But a cold knot of dread had already formed in her chest.

---

The ceremony dragged on—speeches from the principal, a choir performance, the pledge of allegiance. Wanzhen sat near the back, trying to focus on the future, on the classes she would take, the clubs she might join. But her eyes kept drifting to the back of Su Yaqing's head, three rows ahead.

When the ceremony ended and students streamed out into the hallways, Wanzhen tried to lose herself in the crowd. She almost made it.

"Hey! New girl!"

The voice cut through the chatter. Wanzhen turned. Su Yaqing stood at the center of the hallway, arms crossed, her two friends flanking her like guards. A small crowd had gathered, sensing drama.

"My necklace is gone," Su Yaqing announced, loud enough for everyone to hear. "The one I was wearing at the ceremony. Someone stole it."

Murmurs rippled through the students. Wanzhen's hand went instinctively to her pocket—a nervous habit—and her fingers brushed against something cold and metallic. She froze.

"I saw her bump into you," one of the friends said, pointing at Wanzhen. "Right before the ceremony. She was the only one close enough."

"That's not—" Wanzhen started.

"Empty your pockets," Su Yaqing said, and her voice was calm, almost bored. Like she already knew the outcome.

Wanzhen's hand trembled as she pulled out the contents of her pockets: a crumpled tissue, a pen, a hair tie. And then a silver chain, delicate and glittering, caught in the folds of the tissue.

She stared at it. The necklace. In her hand.

"I didn't—" she whispered, but the words died in her throat.

Su Yaqing stepped forward, plucked the necklace from Wanzhen's trembling fingers, and held it up to the light. "Well, well. Look at that."

"I didn't take it. I swear. Someone must have—"

"Must have what? Dropped it in your pocket?" Su Yaqing laughed. "That's a new one."

The crowd was closing in. Faces blurred. Wanzhen felt a hand grab her arm—a teacher, a security guard, she didn't know. All she could see was Su Yaqing's smile, sharp and satisfied.

"Take her to the principal's office," the teacher said. "Call her parents."

That afternoon, Wanzhen sat in a sterile office while her mother wept and her father's face turned to stone. The principal spoke of zero tolerance. The police took statements. No one asked her why. No one listened when she said she had been framed.

Su Yaqing never even showed up to the hearing. Her father sent a lawyer.

The trial lasted two days. The evidence was overwhelming: the necklace, the eyewitnesses, the testimony of the principal who had seen her "acting suspiciously." Wanzhen's defense—a public defender who barely looked at her—mumbled about reasonable doubt, but the judge had already made up his mind.

"Theft of a high-value item, committed on school grounds during an official event, with clear evidence of intent," the judge intoned. "This court sentences Lin Wanzhen to five years in a juvenile correctional facility. Bail is denied. Take her into custody."

Wanzhen didn't cry. She couldn't. The tears had dried up somewhere between the police station and the courtroom, replaced by a hollow, echoing numbness.

Her mother screamed. Her father covered his face.

The guards led her away.

---

The transport vehicle smelled of sweat, rust, and diesel. Wanzhen sat on a bench along the wall, her wrists cuffed in front of her, the metal digging into her skin. The windows were too high to see anything but sky. The floor trembled beneath her feet as the van rumbled down an unknown road.

She was not alone.

Nine other girls sat in the dim light, their faces blank, their eyes fixed on nothing. A few were younger than her. One looked barely fourteen, her lip split, a bruise blooming on her cheek. Another had a shaved head and a dead stare that didn't blink. They sat in silence, each locked in her own private world of fear or resignation.

The van hit a pothole, and the chains rattled.

Wanzhen pressed her knees together, trying to make herself small. Her mind kept replaying the moment her fingers touched the necklace in her pocket. How had it gotten there? She hadn't stolen it. She knew that with absolute certainty. But knowing didn't matter. The verdict had been written before the trial even began.

One of the girls—the one with the shaved head—caught her eye. For a second, Wanzhen thought she saw something like pity flicker across her face. But then the girl looked away, and the van fell back into its rhythm of engine hum and clattering chains.

Wanzhen closed her eyes. She forced herself to breathe. In. Out. In.

*Five years,* she thought. *Five years. I can survive five years.*

The van groaned as it slowed, turning onto a rougher road. Through a crack in the roof, Wanzhen caught a glimpse of a sign, black letters on white:

**PARADISE JUVENILE CORRECTIONAL FACILITY**

*Where reform meets redemption.*

Someone in the back of the van let out a dry, broken laugh.

The gates opened, and the van drove on.

The transport van shuddered to a halt, its rusted brakes screeching like wounded animals. Lin Wanzhen pressed her forehead against the cold metal wall, trying to steady her breathing. Through a narrow slit in the paneling, she caught her first glimpse of Paradise—concrete walls rising toward a gray sky, crowned with coils of razor wire that glinted like frozen lightning. Electric fences hummed a low, threatening song that vibrated through her bones.

The doors swung open, and harsh fluorescent light flooded the compartment. A guard grabbed her arm, fingers digging into flesh still tender from the handcuffs that had marked her wrists during the long drive from the courthouse.

“Out. Now.”

Lin Wanzhen stumbled onto the gravel yard. The walls loomed above her, impossibly high, topped with watchtowers where silhouettes of armed guards stood motionless against the overcast sky. She tried to take a full breath, but the air felt different here—heavier, tainted with something metallic and sour. The smell of fear, she realized. The smell of a thousand broken spirits.

The guard marched her through a series of steel doors that clanged shut behind them, each lock engaging with a sound of finality. They passed through a sally port where her remaining belongings were confiscated—her school bag, her hair clips, the locket her grandmother had given her. Everything stripped away, piece by piece.

The processing room was a white box with a desk at its center, where Warden Wang Hao sat filing his nails with theatrical disinterest. He was a man in his fifties with graying temples and soft hands that had never known hard labor. When he looked up, his eyes traveled over Lin Wanzhen with the lazy assessment of a farmer examining livestock.

“Ah, the special delivery.” He set down the nail file and leaned back, letting his gaze linger. “Lin Wanzhen. Framed for drug trafficking by your classmate. What a tragic little story.”

Lin Wanzhen said nothing. Her jaw clenched so tight she felt a tooth ache.

Wang Hao stood and circled the desk, coming to stand uncomfortably close. He smelled of cheap cologne and cigarettes. “You know what happens to pretty girls like you in here? They lose everything. Their dignity. Their hope. Their sanity.” His finger traced the collar of her prison uniform, a touch that made her skin crawl. “But if you play nice, maybe I can make things… easier.”

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” she said, her voice barely a whisper.

“That’s what they all say.” He laughed, a dry, rattling sound. “Take her to Block C. Cell seventeen.”

The guard led her down a corridor lined with barred doors. Through the gaps, Lin Wanzhen saw faces—gaunt, hollow-eyed women who watched her pass with expressions ranging from curiosity to hostility. Some pressed against their bars, fingers reaching out like skeletal branches. One woman hissed something she couldn’t understand.

Cell seventeen was a concrete box measuring eight feet by ten. Two metal bunks jutted from opposite walls, each covered with a thin mattress stained yellow with age. A rusted toilet stood in the corner, separated from the rest of the room by a flimsy plastic curtain. The only light came from a single bulb encased in a wire cage, buzzing with a sound that would haunt her nights.

An older woman sat on the lower bunk, her back against the wall, knees drawn to her chest. She had graying hair chopped unevenly at her shoulders and deep lines carved into her face. When she saw Lin Wanzhen, she let out a hollow chuckle.

“Fresh meat,” she said. “I’m Chen Xiao. Been here eleven years.”

Lin Wanzhen stood frozen in the doorway as the guard unlocked her cuffs and left, the door slamming shut with a metallic crash that echoed through the block. She rubbed her wrists, raw and bleeding.

“Sit down before you fall down,” Chen Xiao said, patting the bunk beside her. “First night’s the hardest.”

Lin Wanzhen obeyed, her legs giving out as she collapsed onto the thin mattress. The springs creaked beneath her weight. “I don’t belong here.”

“Nobody does.” Chen Xiao pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from her pocket, then seemed to remember she wasn’t alone. She offered one. Lin Wanzhen shook her head. “Suit yourself. But listen to me, girl. You need to learn the rules fast if you want to survive.”

“What rules?”

“Rule one: trust no one. Not the guards, not the warden, not the other inmates. Everyone in here is either a predator or prey, and the ones who pretend to be your friend are usually the hungriest.” Chen Xiao lit a cigarette, the flame illuminating her weary eyes. “Rule two: keep your head down. Don’t make eye contact. Don’t talk back. Don’t give them any excuse to notice you.”

“Who’s ‘them’?”

Before Chen Xiao could answer, a scream tore through the night—raw, prolonged, coming from somewhere deep in the prison. Lin Wanzhen flinched, her heart seizing. The scream faded into sobs, then silence.

“Welcome to Paradise,” Chen Xiao said, smoke curling from her lips. “Where the angels are demons and the devils run the show.”

The hours crawled by. The cell had no windows, and Lin Wanzhen lost all sense of time. She lay on the upper bunk, staring at the ceiling where water stains formed shapes like crying faces. Every few minutes, a new sound would make her jump—the clang of a distant door, the shuffle of footsteps in the corridor, the murmur of voices she couldn’t understand.

Around what she guessed was midnight, the lights flickered and dimmed, leaving only the emergency bulb casting a weak orange glow. That was when the real noises began.

Footsteps in the hallway. Heavy, deliberate. A key turning in a lock nearby. Then a scream—different from before, higher, younger. It was followed by a man’s laughter, low and familiar. Warden Wang’s voice, muffled but unmistakable.

“Please,” a girl begged. “Please, I’ll do anything.”

“That’s the idea,” Wang replied, and then there was a thud, followed by silence.

Lin Wanzhen pressed her hands over her ears, but she couldn’t block out the sounds. She heard fabric tearing. She heard crying. She heard things she wished she could unhear. Tears streamed down her face, hot and uncontrollable, soaking the thin pillow that smelled of bleach and strangers.

Below her, Chen Xiao was motionless, staring at the ceiling with dead eyes. She had learned to shut it out. Lin Wanzhen wondered how long it would take before she learned the same.

When morning finally came, gray light seeping through a ventilation grate high on the wall, Lin Wanzhen had not slept. Her eyes were red and swollen, her throat raw from silent crying. She sat up as the cell door slid open with a grinding noise.

A guard stood in the doorway—a woman in her forties with a face like carved stone. Her name tag read ZHAO XUE, and her eyes held a coldness that made the prison walls feel warm.

“New fish,” Zhao said, her voice flat. “Shower time. Move.”

Lin Wanzhen slid off the bunk, her legs unsteady. As she passed Zhao Xue, the guard’s hand shot out, grabbing her chin and forcing her to meet her gaze.

“You’re the one everyone’s talking about,” Zhao said, her grip tightening until Lin Wanzhen winced. “Su Yaqing’s little pet project. She told me to take special care of you.” The word care dripped with menace. “I always follow orders.”

She released Lin Wanzhen with a shove that sent her stumbling into the corridor. Other inmates were emerging from their cells, forming a silent procession toward the communal showers. They moved like ghosts, eyes downcast, bodies hunched.

In the shower room, cold water sprayed from rusted pipes. Lin Wanzhen stood under the stream, letting it wash over her, trying to feel clean. But the grime seemed to have seeped into her soul. Around her, the other women washed quickly, mechanically, some bearing bruises and cuts that told stories she didn’t want to hear.

As she was drying herself with a threadbare towel, a shadow fell over her. She looked up to find a young woman with a cruel smile and eyes that glittered with malice. She was flanked by two other inmates, both built like enforcers.

“You must be the new girl,” the woman said, her voice sweet as poison. “I’m Su Yaqing. Welcome to Paradise.”

Lin Wanzhen’s blood turned to ice. This was her—the girl who had framed her, the daughter of the gang boss, the one who had destroyed her life for sport.

“What do you want?” Lin Wanzhen managed.

Su Yaqing laughed, a musical sound that didn’t reach her eyes. “What do I want? I already have it. You, in a cage. Me, outside. That’s justice, don’t you think?” She stepped closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. “You thought you could be better than me. Smarter. Prettier. But look at you now.”

She reached out and flicked a strand of wet hair from Lin Wanzhen’s face, a gesture that was almost tender.

“This is just the beginning,” Su Yaqing said. “You’re going to learn your place. And by the time I’m done with you, you’ll beg to be forgotten.”

She turned and walked away, her laughter echoing off the tile walls. The two enforcers followed, but not before one of them shoved Lin Wanzhen hard enough to knock her to the wet floor.

As she sat there, shivering, water pooling around her, Lin Wanzhen felt something shift inside her. The despair that had gripped her since her arrest began to harden into something else. Something colder. She thought of her mother, waiting at home, believing in her innocence. She thought of the life that had been stolen from her.

And she made a decision.

She would not break. She would not beg. She would find a way out of this place, and when she did, Su Yaqing would pay. Everyone would pay.

But first, she had to survive.

Chen Xiao appeared beside her, offering a hand. “Get up,” she said. “Don’t let them see you on the ground.”

Lin Wanzhen took the hand and pulled herself upright. For the first time since entering Paradise, she met someone’s eyes directly.

“Tell me everything you know about this place,” she said. “And about Su Yaqing.”

Chen Xiao studied her for a moment, something like recognition flickering in her tired eyes. “You’ve got that look,” she said. “The look of someone who’s decided to fight back. It’s going to get you killed.”

“Maybe,” Lin Wanzhen said. “But I’d rather die standing than live on my knees.”

The buzzer rang, signaling the end of shower time. As the inmates shuffled back to their cells, Lin Wanzhen walked with her head held higher than before. Behind her, Zhao Xue watched with narrowed eyes, a faint smile playing at her lips.

She liked a challenge.

And somewhere in the warden’s office, Wang Hao reviewed the day’s paperwork, circling Lin Wanzhen’s name with a red pen. Paradise had a new resident, and he had plans for her. Special plans.

Outside the prison walls, the sun rose over the city, indifferent to the horrors unfolding in the concrete fortress. Another day in Paradise had begun.

Zhao Xue's footsteps echoed through the corridor like a countdown. Lin Wanzhen followed her, still wearing those cheap clothes, her hands cuffed in front of her. She looked at the back of Zhao Xue—tall, straight, and completely indifferent. It was as if what was about to happen meant nothing, like she had done this a thousand times before.

"Please understand," Zhao Xue said without turning around, "Paradise has a way of doing things. The sooner you learn, the easier it gets."

Lin Wanzhen wanted to speak, but her throat felt tight. She chose silence.

The discipline room was at the end of a dead-end corridor, separated from the main area by a heavy iron door with a small window. Zhao Xue unlocked it with a keycard, and the door slid open with a metallic clang. Inside, the light was harsh—white fluorescent bulbs that made everything look exposed, scrubbed clean, like a hospital but without any comfort. A metal table sat in the center. Against the wall was a cabinet with glass doors, revealing rows of tools, each one precisely arranged, waiting.

"Step inside and stand in the center," Zhao Xue ordered.

Lin Wanzhen obeyed. Her legs felt weak. She could smell disinfectant, rubber, and something metallic.

Zhao Xue closed the door behind them and locked it. The sound of the bolt sliding home sealed them in.

"Strip," Zhao Xue said, her voice flat.

Lin Wanzhen's heart dropped. "What?"

"You heard me. Remove everything. Clothes, shoes, underwear. Put them on the floor, then stand with your feet apart, arms raised."

Lin Wanzhen stared at her, a protest forming on her lips, but Zhao Xue's gaze was cold and unyielding. There was no room for negotiation. Slowly, Lin Wanzhen reached for the hem of her shirt. Her fingers trembled so badly she could barely grasp the fabric. She pulled it over her head, then unbuttoned the pants and let them fall. She stepped out of her underwear, her skin prickling under the harsh light. She was completely exposed.

"Arms up," Zhao Xue said, stepping closer.

Lin Wanzhen raised her arms, her hands still cuffed. Zhao Xue circled her like she was inspecting livestock. She ran a gloved hand over Lin Wanzhen's shoulder, down her spine, along her ribs. She checked behind her ears, under her arms, between her toes. Lin Wanzhen squeezed her eyes shut, trying to disappear inside herself.

"Open your mouth."

Lin Wanzhen opened it. Zhao Xue shone a small light inside, looking at her tongue, her cheeks, her gums. Then she pulled down on her lower lip.

"Good. Now bend over, grab your ankles."

Lin Wanzhen's face burned. She obeyed, feeling Zhao Xue's fingers probing inside her, a rough, efficient violation. She bit her lip to keep from crying out.

"Straighten up," Zhao Xue said, her tone unchanged. "Now we deal with the rest."

Zhao Xue walked to the cabinet and retrieved an electric razor, a pair of scissors, and a thin sheet of plastic. She laid the plastic on the floor and motioned for Lin Wanzhen to stand on it.

"This is for hygiene. In here, we keep things clean."

Lin Wanzhen watched in disbelief as Zhao Xue knelt before her, the razor humming in her hand. The first pass of the blade across her pubic mound sent a shock through her. Hair fell onto the plastic. Zhao Xue worked methodically, shaving everything—the mound, the lips, the line between her thighs. When she finished, Lin Wanzhen felt like a child, smooth and raw, utterly stripped of her last vestiges of womanhood.

Zhao Xue stood and threw the razor into a bin. "Clean yourself with this." She handed Lin Wanzhen a damp cloth.

Lin Wanzhen wiped herself, the cloth cold against her bare skin. She wanted to scream. She wanted to run. But there was nowhere to go.

"Now," Zhao Xue said, opening another drawer in the cabinet. She pulled out a small tray with two sterile needles, a bottle of disinfectant, and two metal rings.

Lin Wanzhen's stomach lurched. "What are those for?"

"The final step of your intake," Zhao Xue said. "Identification and control. Every prisoner in Paradise has these. It marks you as property."

"No," Lin Wanzhen said, stepping back.

"Don't make this harder than it has to be." Zhao Xue's voice hardened. "Resistance only prolongs the pain."

Lin Wanzhen backed into the wall. "Please. I can't. Please don't."

Zhao Xue crossed the room in three steps, grabbing Lin Wanzhen by the arm. She forced her against the metal table, pressing her chest down onto the cold surface. Lin Wanzhen struggled, her cuffed hands useless, but Zhao Xue's grip was iron.

"Hold still," Zhao Xue hissed in her ear. "Unless you want it done twice."

Lin Wanzhen felt the wet swab of disinfectant on her left nipple, then the sharp pinch of the needle piercing through. She screamed, a raw, animal sound that tore from her throat. The pain was blinding, a deep, burning violation. She felt the needle push through, then the cold metal of the ring threading into the wound.

Zhao Xue worked quickly. The second needle came, and Lin Wanzhen cried again, her body convulsing. She tasted blood from biting her lip.

It was done. Zhao Xue stepped back and surveyed her work.

"Stand up."

Lin Wanzhen pushed herself upright, her chest throbbing. She looked down and saw the two metal rings through her nipples, glinting under the fluorescent light. They felt foreign, heavy, like they were pulling her apart.

Zhao Xue walked to the cabinet and put away the tools. She didn't look at Lin Wanzhen as she spoke.

"These won't come out until your sentence is done. If you try to remove them, you'll be punished. If you damage them, you'll be punished. And if you think anyone will care about your pain," she finally turned around, her eyes flat and emotionless, "this is Paradise. We make the rules."

Lin Wanzhen stood there, shivering, naked, her body marked, her dignity shattered. She felt tears streaming down her face, but she was too exhausted to wipe them.

Zhao Xue picked up the clothes from the floor and threw them at her feet.

"Get dressed. You'll learn to live like this. And remember," she said as she unlocked the door, "the lesson of today is that you have no control. Not over your body, not over your choices, not over anything. The sooner you accept that, the less you'll suffer."

Lin Wanzhen pulled the clothes on over her broken skin, the fabric rubbing against the fresh rings, sending jolts of pain through her chest. She followed Zhao Xue out of the room, back into the corridor, back toward the cell block. Each step was a reminder: she wasn't a person anymore. She was property.

And Paradise was just beginning.

The visiting room at Paradise Prison was a cold, sterile space of gray concrete and flickering fluorescent lights. Lin Wanzhen sat on the metal stool, her wrists chained to the bolted-down table in front of her. The guard who had escorted her from the laundry room had said nothing, only shoved her into the chair and locked the restraints before retreating to the corner.

She had been here three weeks. Three weeks of counting her heartbeats against the hum of industrial fans. Three weeks of learning the exact number of steps between her cell and the bathroom. Three weeks of Zhao Xue's visits, each one leaving a new ache in her body.

The door on the far side of the room hissed open.

Lin Wanzhen's breath caught in her throat.

Su Yaqing walked in wearing a white blouse and tailored black pants, as if she had just stepped out of some expensive private school rather than the criminal underworld she actually belonged to. Her hair was perfectly styled, her makeup flawless. She looked like an angel stepping into hell.

Except Lin Wanzhen knew better.

"Haven't seen you in a while, classmate," Su Yaqing said, her voice dripping with fake warmth. She set a large gift box on the table, wrapped in glossy pink paper with a matching bow. "I brought you a present. Aren't you going to say thank you?"

Lin Wanzhen stared at the box. Her hands trembled beneath the table. "What do you want, Su Yaqing?"

"That's not a very polite way to greet someone who came all this way to see you." Su Yaqing pulled out the chair across from her and sat down, crossing her legs with deliberate elegance. "I thought you'd be happier to see a familiar face."

"You're the reason I'm here."

"Allegedly." Su Yaqing smiled. "But let's not get bogged down in details. I heard you've been having a rough time. That head guard, Zhao Xue, she's apparently very... thorough with her new arrivals. I must admit, I was a little jealous when I heard. I wanted to be the one to break you in myself."

Lin Wanzhen said nothing. Her fingers curled into fists beneath the restraints.

Su Yaqing reached into her pocket and pulled out a small key. "The guards are going to unlock your chains for a moment. Don't try anything stupid. There are cameras everywhere, and I have friends in every corner of this place." She nodded toward the guard in the corner, who stepped forward without a word and released the cuffs securing Lin Wanzhen to the table.

Immediately, Lin Wanzhen's instincts screamed at her to run. But where? The guard was blocking the only exit. Su Yaqing was watching her with the patient amusement of a cat toying with a wounded bird.

"Open it," Su Yaqing said, pushing the box across the table.

Lin Wanzhen's hands hovered over the pink wrapping. She wanted to refuse. She wanted to knock the box to the floor and spit in Su Yaqing's face. But something in those cold, waiting eyes told her that defiance would only make things worse.

She tore the paper. Beneath it was a plain cardboard box. She lifted the lid.

Inside lay a set of restraint tools. The gag ball was black leather, thick and industrial, with a buckle that would fasten behind her head. The handcuffs were steel, connected by a short chain, designed to pull her hands behind her back and lock together with a heavy padlock. There was also a collar, lined with what looked like small metal spikes on the inside.

Lin Wanzhen's stomach turned.

"I had them custom-made," Su Yaqing said, reaching into the box and pulling out the gag ball. She turned it over in her hands, examining it like a piece of art. "The leather is genuine Italian. Very soft against the skin, but impossible to bite through. And the handcuffs—they have a special locking mechanism. Only I have the key." She held up a small silver key, dangling it between her fingers. "Go on. Put them on."

"No."

Su Yaqing's smile didn't waver. She looked at the guard in the corner. "She's being difficult. Help her cooperate."

The guard moved before Lin Wanzhen could react. Rough hands grabbed her wrists, twisting them behind her back. Lin Wanzhen struggled, kicking and thrashing, but the guard was stronger. The steel cuffs clicked around her wrists, the padlock snapping shut. Then the guard grabbed her jaw, forcing her mouth open, and Su Yaqing stepped forward to push the leather gag between her teeth.

Lin Wanzhen gagged. The ball filled her mouth completely, pressing her tongue flat. Su Yaqing tightened the strap behind her head, pulling it so tight that the buckle bit into the nape of her neck.

"There," Su Yaqing said, stepping back to admire her work. "Much better. You look like what you are now."

Tears streamed down Lin Wanzhen's face. She tried to scream, but all that came out was a muffled, pathetic whimper. The leather tasted like chemicals and something else—probably the disinfectant they used to clean these things between uses.

Su Yaqing pulled out her phone. "Smile."

The camera flash was blinding. Su Yaqing took photo after photo, moving around the table to capture different angles. Lin Wanzhen, hands cuffed behind her back, mouth stretched open around the gag, tears and drool running down her chin. The collar with its cruel internal spikes that she had refused to wear, but which Su Yaqing had clipped loosely around her neck anyway, the points pressing against her skin whenever she swallowed.

"I'm going to send these to your mother," Su Yaqing said, still scrolling through the images on her phone. "Maybe I'll even post them online. 'Paradise Prison's new star inmate.' I bet they'd go viral."

Lin Wanzhen's muffled sob broke through the gag. Her mother. Her mother had been visiting every week, sitting in the visitor center with her hands clasped tight, trying to smile through her tears. If she saw those photos—

"Please," Lin Wanzhen tried to say, but the word came out as a wet, incomprehensible noise.

"You know what I think?" Su Yaqing set down her phone and walked around behind Lin Wanzhen. She leaned down, her lips brushing against Lin Wanzhen's ear. "I think you've been getting off easy. Zhao Xue might be cruel, but she doesn't have the imagination for real suffering. She just hits you. Bruises heal. Bones heal. But I know how to break something that doesn't heal."

She reached down and grabbed Lin Wanzhen's chin through the gag, forcing her to look up.

"I'm going to make your life worse than death," Su Yaqing whispered. "Every day you spend in this prison, I want you to remember that I'm out there. I'm free. And I can do whatever I want to you from out here. I can have your sentence extended. I can have you transferred to the isolation wing. I can have your mother's small business shut down. I can have your little brother's college application rejected. There is nothing I cannot reach."

Lin Wanzhen's body went limp. The fight drained out of her like blood from an open wound.

"That's it," Su Yaqing said, stroking her hair. "Accept it. This is your life now. You belong to me."

She pulled the gag's release strap, and the leather ball popped free from Lin Wanzhen's mouth. Lin Wanzhen gasped, saliva dripping from her lips. Her jaw ached from being stretched open.

"I'll leave these on for now," Su Yaqing said, gesturing to the handcuffs. "Give you some time to think about your attitude. The guards know not to remove them until I say so." She picked up the pink wrapping paper and crumpled it in her hands. "Same time next week, classmate. Try to be more grateful."

She walked out without looking back.

Lin Wanzhen sat alone in the visiting room, her hands still cuffed behind her back, the collar digging into her throat. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. The guard stood motionless in the corner, watching.

She had never felt so completely, utterly destroyed.

Eventually, another guard came to escort her back. She shuffled through the corridors with her hands still bound, other inmates staring, some smirking, others looking away in shame. By the time she reached her cell block, the handcuffs had rubbed her wrists raw.

Chen Xiao was waiting in their cell. When she saw Lin Wanzhen being pushed through the door, her face went pale.

"What happened? Who did this to you?"

Lin Wanzhen couldn't speak. She collapsed onto her bunk, her body shaking with silent sobs.

Chen Xiao knelt beside her, reaching out to touch her shoulder. "Hey. Hey, look at me. It's okay. I'm here."

"It's not okay," Lin Wanzhen whispered. "It's never going to be okay."

"You don't know that—"

"She said she's going to break me. And I think she already has."

Chen Xiao's hand tightened on her shoulder. "You can't let her win. You can't—"

The cell door burst open.

Zhao Xue stood in the doorway, her face unreadable. Behind her stood two other guards, their batons already drawn.

"Chen Xiao," Zhao Xue said, her voice flat. "Interfering with an inmate's discipline. You know the rules."

"She's not interfering with anything," Lin Wanzhen said, sitting up. "She was just—"

"Shut up." Zhao Xue's eyes flicked to her, cold and dismissive. "I'm not talking to you." She nodded at the guards. "Take her."

Chen Xiao didn't resist. She had been in Paradise long enough to know that resistance only made things worse. She stood up and walked out of the cell with her hands behind her back, not looking at Lin Wanzhen.

"Where are you taking her?" Lin Wanzhen asked, her voice cracking.

Zhao Xue stepped into the cell. She loomed over Lin Wanzhen, her shadow swallowing the faint light from the corridor. "You're the one who got her into trouble. You're the one who brought Su Yaqing's attention here. You're the poison in this cell, Lin Wanzhen, and everyone around you is going to suffer for it."

"I didn't ask her to come here."

"Doesn't matter." Zhao Xue reached down and grabbed the collar around Lin Wanzhen's neck, yanking her forward. The internal spikes dug into her skin. "I like you. You're fresh. You still have fight in you. But I'm going to drain every drop of it out, one day at a time. And by the time I'm done, you'll be begging Su Yaqing to come visit you."

She released the collar and stepped back.

"Get some sleep. Tomorrow, we start your real education."

She left. The cell door slammed shut, the lock clicking into place with a sound that echoed through the silence.

Lin Wanzhen curled up on her bunk, the handcuffs digging into her back, the collar pressing against her throat. Through the small window in her cell, she could see a sliver of sky—dark blue, almost purple, with a single star blinking in the distance.

Somewhere out there, Su Yaqing was probably laughing with her friends, showing them the photos on her phone. Somewhere out there, the world was still turning, still full of light and life.

And here, in Paradise, Lin Wanzhen was learning that some cages had no bars, some prisons had no walls, and some people could destroy you without ever touching you at all.

She heard the distant sound of a punishment session beginning. Chen Xiao's muffled screams filtered through the concrete walls, and Lin Wanzhen pressed her face into her pillow and wept.

The air in Paradise’s public restroom was thick with ammonia and bleach, a chemical fog that stung Lin Wanzhen’s eyes and burned the back of her throat. She knelt on the wet tile floor, a scrub brush clutched in her raw, reddened hands. The grout between the tiles was black with years of filth that no amount of scrubbing could erase. Her prison uniform, a thin gray cotton, clung to her skin, damp from the puddles of water and urine she was forced to crawl through.

She had been here for what felt like hours. The only sounds were the drip of a faulty faucet and the distant, muffled echoes of the prison's daily routine. But she knew it wouldn’t be quiet for long. Zhao Xue had made that clear when she shoved her through the door. “You’re the new cleaning girl,” she had said, her lips curling into a cold smile. “Be thorough. The guards will be by to inspect your work.”

The first guard arrived before she had even finished the first stall. He was a large man with a shaved head and a gut that strained the buttons of his uniform. He didn’t speak. He simply grabbed her by the hair, pulled her to her feet, and forced her head down onto the edge of the sink. The porcelain was cold against her cheek.

“Open,” he grunted.

Lin Wanzhen’s mind went blank. Her body moved on its own, a survival instinct she hadn’t known she possessed. She opened her mouth. The taste was salt and skin and the faint, lingering trace of industrial soap. She closed her eyes. She counted the drips from the faucet. One. Two. Three. By the time she reached thirty-seven, he was done. He zipped his pants, adjusted his belt, and left without a word.

She spat onto the floor, the saliva tinged pink with blood from where her gums had been scraped against his zipper. She tried to stand, but her legs wouldn’t hold her. She sank back to her knees.

The second guard came within minutes. Then a third. She lost count. They were interchangeable—rough hands, harsh breaths, grunts of effort. They took turns using her mouth, her body, bending her over the sink, pressing her face into the wet floor. Each time, she felt a piece of herself break off and float away, like ash from a fire.

At some point, she was on her back on the cold tile. A guard held her legs apart. Another knelt by her head. She stared at the cracked ceiling, at the water stain that looked like a bird trying to take flight. Her body was a thing happening to her, not something she inhabited. She felt pressure, friction, pain, but it was distant, like a radio playing in another room.

When they finally left, she lay motionless on the floor, her uniform torn, her body bruised and bleeding from three violated openings. The fluorescent lights hummed overhead. The drip of the faucet counted the seconds. She couldn’t feel her hands. She couldn’t feel her legs. She couldn’t feel anything at all.

The restroom door creaked open again. Lin Wanzhen didn’t flinch. She didn’t have the strength. But it was only Chen Xiao, her face pale, a small jar clutched in her trembling hands.

“Oh, God,” Chen Xiao whispered, kneeling beside her. “Oh, Wanzen, no.”

She tried to help Lin Wanzhen sit up, but Lin Wanzhen’s body was a limp sack of bones. Chen Xiao’s hands were gentle as she dabbed at the cuts on Lin Wanzhen’s face with a damp rag. She uncapped the jar—a thick, white ointment that smelled of herbs—and began to apply it to the raw skin of Lin Wanzhen’s wrists.

“This will help,” Chen Xiao said, her voice cracking. “It’ll stop the chafing. And for… down there, you need to—”

“Don’t,” Lin Wanzhen said. Her voice was a whisper, hollow and distant.

“But you’re bleeding.”

“Don’t touch me.”

Chen Xiao’s hand froze. Tears welled in her eyes. “You can’t just lie here. You have to get up. You have to fight.”

Lin Wanzhen turned her head to look at her cellmate. Chen Xiao’s face was earnest, desperate, full of a hope that seemed grotesque in this place. “Fight,” Lin Wanzhen repeated, the word tasting like ash. “There’s nothing left to fight with.”

“There is,” Chen Xiao insisted. “There’s always something. You can’t let them win.”

“They already won.” Lin Wanzhen closed her eyes. The world went dark. The drip of the faucet was a metronome counting down to nothing. “They took everything. There’s nothing left.”

Chen Xiao wept. She tried to press the ointment into Lin Wanzhen’s hands, but Lin Wanzhen let it fall to the floor. The jar rolled, leaving a white smear across the gray tile. Lin Wanzhen lay still, her body a hollow vessel, waiting for the next guard, the next order, the next violation.

She was a public toilet now. That was all she was. And she had stopped caring.

The announcement came over the prison intercom at dawn, before the first meal. Zhao Xue’s voice, flat and metallic, cut through the dim light of the cell block.

“All new prisoners are to report to the medical wing immediately. A mandatory beautification procedure will be conducted. Failure to comply will result in disciplinary action.”

Lin Wanzhen sat up on her bunk, her heart hammering against her ribs. She had been at Paradise for three weeks, and every day brought a fresh humiliation, a new layer of degradation. She looked at Chen Xiao, who was already awake, her face pale in the gray morning light.

“What does that mean?” Lin Wanzhen whispered. “Beautification?”

Chen Xiao didn’t meet her eyes. She busied herself smoothing the thin blanket on her bunk, her movements mechanical. “It’s for the new ones. The ones they think are… worth improving.”

“Improving how?”

Chen Xiao finally looked at her, and there was something dark and ancient in her gaze, a resignation that made Lin Wanzhen’s stomach clench. “They don’t tell us the details. But the ones who come back from that surgery… they’re never the same.”

A guard’s baton slammed against the bars of the cell door. “Wanzhen Lin. Move.”

Lin Wanzhen’s legs felt numb as she swung off the bunk. Her prison uniform, a thin gray jumpsuit, hung loose on her frame. She had lost weight in the past weeks—the food was tasteless, the portions meager, and her appetite had vanished under the weight of constant fear. Chen Xiao reached out and touched her arm, a fleeting gesture of solidarity that only made Lin Wanzhen feel more alone.

The medical wing was a sterile white room that smelled of antiseptic and something metallic, like blood that had been scrubbed but never fully erased. Three other new prisoners stood lined up against the wall: a girl who looked barely seventeen, a woman in her thirties with hollow eyes, and a tall, defiant figure with a fresh bruise on her cheekbone. Lin Wanzhen took her place among them, her hands trembling at her sides.

Zhao Xue entered through a side door, her crisp uniform immaculate, her face a mask of clinical detachment. She carried a tablet, scrolling through it with the casual air of a woman reviewing a shopping list.

“The Paradise Reformatory believes in holistic rehabilitation,” Zhao Xue said, her voice carrying the same flat authority as the intercom. “We find that physical enhancements help prisoners align with the institution’s standards of discipline and order. Today, we will be performing areola piercings and dimensional augmentation on all selected candidates.”

Lin Wanzhen’s breath caught. She understood the words individually, but together they made no sense. Areola piercing? Why would they do that?

The tall girl with the bruise spoke up, her voice raw with defiance. “You can’t do that without consent. This is mutilation.”

Zhao Xue’s eyes flicked up from her tablet, cold and amused. “Consent was forfeited upon arrival. You are property of the state, and the state has deemed this procedure necessary for your reformation.” She gestured to two guards, who moved forward and grabbed the tall girl by the arms.

“Wait—no—I refuse—” The girl struggled, but the guards were stronger. They dragged her toward a door at the far end of the room. Lin Wanzhen watched, frozen, as the girl disappeared through the doorway, her protests muffled by a closing door.

Zhao Xue turned her gaze to the remaining three. “Any other objections?”

No one spoke.

Lin Wanzhen was called second. She felt the guards’ hands on her shoulders, guiding her through the door into a small, windowless room. In the center stood an operating table, its surface cold and metallic, with leather restraints hanging from the sides. A tray of instruments sat on a cart nearby—scalpels, clamps, and small rings that glinted under the harsh fluorescent light.

“Lie down,” a guard said, her voice indifferent.

Lin Wanzhen’s legs gave way. She didn’t so much lie down as collapse onto the table, her body shaking uncontrollably. The guards strapped her wrists and ankles into the restraints, pulling them tight enough to bite into her skin. She stared up at the ceiling, at a water stain that looked like a map of some distant land, and tried to think of anything other than what was about to happen.

A woman in a surgical mask appeared beside the table. Lin Wanzhen hadn’t seen her enter. She held a needle, the tip glistening with anesthetic.

“This will numb the area,” the woman said, her voice muffled by the mask. “Try to stay still.”

Lin Wanzhen felt the cold sting of the needle against her left breast, then her right. She clenched her teeth, her eyes squeezing shut. The anesthetic spread like ice through her skin, deadening sensation. She heard the clink of metal instruments being moved on the tray.

“We’ll begin with the dimensional augmentation,” the woman said. “This will enlarge the areola to approximately three centimeters in diameter. Then we will insert the piercing.”

Lin Wanzhen’s eyes flew open. “No—please—stop—”

But the guards held her down, and the woman’s hands were already at work. There was no pain, only a strange pressure, a sensation of being stretched and reshaped. Lin Wanzhen turned her head to the side and saw Zhao Xue standing in the doorway, watching with a faint, detached smile.

“Don’t worry,” Zhao Xue said. “You’ll learn to appreciate it. The guards are quite fond of the results.”

Lin Wanzhen felt something cold and circular press against her skin, then a sharp click as the ring closed. The same sensation on the other side. The woman stepped back, checking her work with clinical efficiency.

“Done,” she said. “The piercings will need to heal for a few days before use.”

Zhao Xue nodded. “Prepare her for milking.”

Lin Wanzhen’s mind went blank. Milking? The word didn’t make sense. She tried to lift her head, but a guard pushed it back down.

“What are you doing?” she managed. “What does that mean?”

The guards unfastened the restraints and pulled her upright. Her chest felt heavy, the metal rings a constant reminder of what had been done. They led her to another room, smaller, with a machine that looked like something out of a nightmare—a stainless steel contraption with two translucent cups attached to tubes that led to a glass collection jar.

“Sit,” a guard said, pointing to a chair bolted to the floor.

Lin Wanzhen sat. The guard unzipped her jumpsuit, pulling it down to her waist. The cold air hit her exposed skin, and she saw her own breasts for the first time since the procedure. The areolas were swollen, pink, and angry-looking, each one pierced with a silver ring. It looked wrong, unnatural, like she had been turned into something that no longer belonged to her.

The guard picked up the machine and pressed the cups against her chest, fitting them over her areolas. The suction was immediate, a constant, rhythmic pull. Lin Wanzhen gasped, the sensation alien and invasive. The machine hummed to life, and she felt a deep, internal pressure building, something being drawn out of her.

“It takes a few minutes to start,” the guard said. “But your body will adapt. Eventually, the milk will flow freely.”

Tears streamed down Lin Wanzhen’s face. She was barely aware of them. Milk? She was a high school girl, barely sixteen. She had never been pregnant, never nursed a child. What could they possibly be taking from her?

The machine’s pump changed rhythm, becoming faster, more insistent. A thin, white liquid began to trickle down the tubes into the glass jar. It was milky white, but thin, almost translucent.

“There it is,” Zhao Xue said from the doorway. She had followed them, her arms crossed, her expression satisfied. “Your body remembers what it’s for. It just needs a little encouragement.”

Lin Wanzhen sobbed, her shoulders heaving, but the machine held her in place. She was trapped, a prisoner in her own flesh, her own body turned into a tool for the guards’ consumption.

When the jar was half full, the machine clicked off. The guard removed the cups, and Lin Wanzhen’s skin was red and irritated where they had been. She pulled her jumpsuit up, her hands shaking so badly she could barely manage the zipper.

“Come back tomorrow at 6 AM,” the guard said. “This will be part of your daily schedule. Failure to produce will result in penalties.”

Lin Wanzhen stumbled back to her cell, the metal rings rubbing against the fabric of her jumpsuit, a constant, raw reminder. Chen Xiao was there, waiting. She saw Lin Wanzhen’s face and said nothing, just sat down beside her on the bunk.

“Does it hurt?” Chen Xiao asked quietly.

Lin Wanzhen nodded, unable to speak.

Chen Xiao put her hand over Lin Wanzhen’s, a small, fragile comfort. “You get used to it,” she said. “You have to.”

But Lin Wanzhen knew she would never get used to this. The machine had taken something from her that could not be replaced, had turned her into a creature of utility, her own body now a source of sustenance for her captors. She thought of the guards drinking her milk, of Zhao Xue’s smile, of Su Yaqing laughing somewhere beyond the walls of Paradise, and she felt the last shred of her innocence crumble away.

That night, she didn’t sleep. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, feeling the weight of the rings on her chest, and she began to plan. Not escape—that was impossible. But resistance. A small, secret defiance that no one could see. She would survive, but she would not be broken. Not completely.

But for now, she was still a prisoner, and the machine would be waiting for her in the morning.

The morning light that filtered through the high window of Paradise Prison's medical wing was pale and watery, offering no warmth. Lin Wanzhen stood shivering in a thin cotton gown, her arms wrapped around herself as two orderlies escorted her into the examination room. The metal table gleamed under harsh fluorescent lights, its stirrups raised and waiting like the legs of some predatory insect.

"Lie down," the orderly said, her voice flat and bored. She had done this a hundred times before. A thousand times.

Lin Wanzhen's legs would not move. Her feet felt bolted to the cold linoleum floor. "Please," she whispered. "Please, I don't understand what's happening."

"You don't need to understand." Warden Wang Hao entered through a side door, pulling on a pair of surgical gloves. The latex snapped against his wrists with a sound that made Lin Wanzhen's stomach turn. He was not wearing his uniform today, but a white lab coat over civilian clothes. The transformation made him seem more dangerous somehow—a wolf dressed as a healer.

"Reproductive reform," he said, reading from a clipboard with exaggerated solemnity, "is a progressive rehabilitation program approved by the board. Female prisoners of childbearing age who have demonstrated recalcitrant behavior may be selected for therapeutic insemination." He lowered the clipboard and smiled at Lin Wanzhen. It was the kind of smile a cat gives a mouse whose leg it has broken. "Think of it as a second chance. A chance to contribute something positive to society."

"I'm seventeen," Lin Wanzhen said. Her voice cracked on the number. "I'm a minor."

Wang Hao's smile did not waver. "Your records show you are eighteen as of last month. A clerical error on the intake forms, I'm sure. But we've corrected it." He gestured to the table. "Please don't make this difficult. The procedure is quite simple and entirely safe. We have medical oversight, sterile equipment, everything proper."

The orderlies took Lin Wanzhen by the arms. She did not resist—there was no point, and she knew it. But her body resisted for her, going rigid, her muscles locking as they tried to lift her onto the examination table. They had to push her shoulders down, force her legs apart, strap her ankles into the stirrups. The leather bit into her skin.

"Breathe," Wang Hao said, positioning himself between her legs. He was preparing something on a tray—vials, a catheter, instruments she did not want to name. "This will be uncomfortable, but the discomfort passes quickly."

Lin Wanzhen stared at the ceiling tiles. They were stained yellow in one corner where water had leaked through. She counted the stains. One, two, three, four. She tried to imagine herself somewhere else. A classroom, the smell of chalk dust and rain. Her mother's kitchen, the sound of a knife on a cutting board. Anywhere but here.

The cold speculum entered her and she bit down on her lip until she tasted copper. Wang Hao worked with the detached efficiency of a man who had done this many times before, who had stopped thinking of the bodies beneath his hands as belonging to people.

"The sperm sample has been treated with a specialized compound," he said, as if delivering a lecture. "It will ensure conception occurs rapidly but that fetal development remains arrested at a very early stage. Essentially, you will carry a pregnancy that never advances beyond the first few weeks. The hormonal changes will occur, however. The morning sickness, the weight gain, the swelling of the breasts. All the external markers of pregnancy, without the burden of an actual child."

"Why?" Lin Wanzhen's voice came out small and broken.

Wang Hao paused in his work. He looked up at her face, and for a moment she saw something flicker behind his eyes. Not pity. Curiosity, perhaps. The way a scientist might look at a specimen that had just done something unexpected.

"Because you are pretty," he said simply. "Because you are young. Because you are innocent, and that innocence radiates from you like heat from a fire, and there are people in this world who want nothing more than to see it extinguished." He resumed his work. "I am merely the instrument of their will."

The catheter slid into place. Lin Wanzhen felt the cold rush of liquid entering her body and closed her eyes. She thought of the stains on the ceiling. One, two, three, four. She would count them every day, she decided. She would count them until she could not remember what they looked like anymore.

---

The recovery room was small and windowless. Chen Xiao sat on the edge of Lin Wanzhen's cot, holding a cup of water that neither of them would drink. The older woman's face was drawn, her eyes fixed on some middle distance where the walls met.

"I tried to stop them," Chen Xiao said. Her voice was hoarse, as if she had been screaming. Maybe she had. Lin Wanzhen could not remember. The procedure had taken her somewhere else, left her body behind on the table while her mind floated somewhere above the ceiling, counting stains that were not there.

"I know," Lin Wanzhen said. She sounded like someone else. Someone far away.

"They did this to me, too. Eight years ago. The pregnancy never developed, but the hormones—" Chen Xiao touched her stomach, a reflex she seemed unaware of. "They stay with you. The nausea. The cravings. The emptiness where something should be growing."

Lin Wanzhen turned her head to look at her cellmate. Chen Xiao's face was older than it had been a week ago. Older than it had been yesterday. The lines around her eyes had deepened, and her skin had taken on the gray pallor of long-term imprisonment.

"How do you survive?" Lin Wanzhen asked.

Chen Xiao was silent for a long time. When she spoke, her voice was barely a whisper. "You stop thinking about survival. You think about the next hour. The next minute. The next breath. And eventually, you stop thinking altogether. That is how you survive."

The door to the recovery room opened. Zhao Xue stood in the doorway, her arms folded across her chest. She looked at Lin Wanzhen with the cold appraisal of a butcher sizing up meat.

"Visitor," she said. "Get dressed. You have five minutes."

Lin Wanzhen did not move. Her body felt weighted down, filled with lead instead of blood. Chen Xiao helped her sit up, helped her pull the prison uniform over the hospital gown, helped her stand on legs that wanted to fold.

"She's in no condition for visitors," Chen Xiao said.

Zhao Xue's smile was thin and sharp. "The visitor is Su Yaqing. She specifically requested to see the new mother. I don't think she'll take no for an answer."

The name hit Lin Wanzhen like a physical blow. Su Yaqing. The girl who had smiled as the handcuffs clicked around Lin Wanzhen's wrists. The girl who had whispered in her ear, "You'll learn to love me. Everyone does."

---

The visitation room was different from the one reserved for family. This room had no glass partition, no phones. It was a small space with a table, two chairs, and a guard stationed at the door. Private. Intimate. Designed for the kind of visits that required discretion.

Su Yaqing was already seated when Lin Wanzhen was brought in. She wore a pale pink dress that made her look almost soft, almost sweet. Her hair was arranged in careful waves, and her makeup was immaculate. She looked like she had stepped out of a magazine, a world away from the gray concrete and fluorescent lights of Paradise.

"Sit," she said, gesturing to the chair across from her.

Lin Wanzhen stood. She could not make herself obey. The order was too casual, too dismissive, as if she were a dog being told to heel.

Su Yaqing's eyes narrowed. "I said sit."

The guard behind Lin Wanzhen pushed down on her shoulders. She collapsed into the chair, her knees hitting the edge of the table, her hands falling into her lap. She stared at her own fingers, at the nails she had bitten down to the quick.

"I heard you had a procedure this morning," Su Yaqing said. Her voice was light, conversational. "How are you feeling? Nauseous? Tender?" She reached across the table and pressed her palm against Lin Wanzhen's lower abdomen. The touch was firm, deliberate, and Lin Wanzhen flinched.

"It's amazing, really, what modern medicine can do. You'll get all the symptoms of pregnancy without the mess of an actual baby. The weight gain, the stretch marks, the swollen ankles. You'll look the part perfectly." Su Yaqing's hand did not move. "I wanted to see it for myself. The moment when a girl becomes a vessel."

"I am not a vessel," Lin Wanzhen said. Her voice was thin, but it held.

Su Yaqing laughed. It was a beautiful sound, like bells, and it made Lin Wanzhen's skin crawl. "Of course you are. Every woman is a vessel. Some of us are vessels for power. Others for children. You, my dear Lin Wanzhen, are a vessel for my entertainment." She withdrew her hand and leaned back in her chair. "Kneel."

"What?"

"You heard me. Kneel. I want to see my vessel properly."

Lin Wanzhen looked at the guard. The guard looked at the wall, her expression blank. There would be no help from that direction.

"No," Lin Wanzhen said.

Su Yaqing's smile did not falter, but something in her eyes went hard and cold. She reached into her handbag and pulled out a photograph. She slid it across the table.

It was a picture of Lin Wanzhen's mother. She was standing outside their apartment building, a bag of groceries in her arms. She looked tired, older than Lin Wanzhen remembered. She looked like she had been crying.

"My father has people everywhere," Su Yaqing said. "Your mother lives alone now. She walks to the market every Tuesday and Thursday. She takes the bus to visit your grandmother in the nursing home on Sundays. She cries at night. I know this because I have someone watch her. Every day. Every night."

Lin Wanzhen's hand shook as she picked up the photograph. Her mother's face blurred as tears filled her eyes.

"Kneel," Su Yaqing said again, "and I will keep watching her. Disobey me, and I will stop watching, and my father's men will have no reason to be gentle."

Lin Wanzhen slid out of her chair. Her knees hit the concrete floor with a crack that echoed in the small room. She lowered her head, her hair falling forward to hide her face.

Su Yaqing stood up. She walked around the table and stood in front of Lin Wanzhen. Her shoes were expensive leather, polished to a mirror shine. She held out her hand, palm up.

"Kiss it," she said.

Lin Wanzhen pressed her lips to Su Yaqing's palm. The skin was soft, perfumed. She felt the ghost of Su Yaqing's fingers curl briefly against her cheek before withdrawing.

"Good girl," Su Yaqing said. "We'll make something of you yet."

She walked out of the room without looking back. The guard followed her, and the door clicked shut, leaving Lin Wanzhen alone on her knees on the cold floor.

---

The nausea started that night.

Lin Wanzhen woke from a dreamless sleep with her stomach lurching, a sour taste flooding her mouth. She made it to the toilet in the corner of the cell just in time. Her body heaved, bringing up nothing but bile, again and again until her throat burned and her eyes streamed.

Chen Xiao was there, holding back her hair, pressing a cold cloth to the back of her neck. "It will pass," she said. "The first wave always passes."

Lin Wanzhen leaned her forehead against the edge of the toilet bowl. The ceramic was cold and rough. She could see her reflection in the water—pale, hollow-eyed, barely recognizable as the girl who had once laughed at lunch tables and dreamed of college.

"I want to die," she whispered.

Chen Xiao's hand stilled on her neck. "No, you don't. If you wanted to die, you would have fought harder. You would have screamed. You would have bit them. But you didn't. You let them do what they did because somewhere inside you, you still believe you will walk out of here."

Lin Wanzjen closed her eyes. She did not have the strength to argue. She did not have the stren

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The interrogation room had been transformed. The harsh fluorescent lights were dimmed, replaced by a single lamp on the steel table that cast long shadows across the concrete floor. Lin Wanzhen sat in the metal chair, her wrists cuffed behind her back, shivering despite the warmth of the room. She had been brought here without explanation, dragged from her cell before breakfast, and now she waited with growing dread.

The door opened.

Zhao Xue entered first, her boots clicking against the floor with practiced authority. Behind her came a man Lin Wanzhen had never seen before. He was thin, almost gaunt, with deep-set eyes that seemed to look through her rather than at her. He carried a small leather bag and wore a suit that hung loosely on his frame.

"Stand her up," Zhao Xue ordered.

Two guards moved forward and pulled Lin Wanzhen to her feet. The man approached, circling her slowly, his gaze traveling across her face, her neck, her hands. He nodded once, as if confirming something to himself.

"Clear the room," he said. His voice was low, almost a whisper.

The guards looked to Zhao Xue. She nodded. They left, closing the door behind them.

Lin Wanzhen's heart hammered against her ribs. "What's happening? What are you going to do to me?"

Zhao Xue smiled, that cold, predatory smile that Lin Wanzhen had grown to fear. "We're going to help you, Wan Zhen. You've been so difficult lately. So resistant. It's time to teach you a better way."

The man opened his leather bag and removed a small pocket watch on a chain, a candle, and a lighter. He placed them on the table with careful precision.

"Sit her down," he instructed.

Zhao Xue pushed Lin Wanzhen back into the chair. The woman's grip on her shoulder was firm, unyielding.

"Please," Lin Wanzhen whispered. "Please don't do this."

"Hush now," the man said softly. He lit the candle, and the small flame flickered in the dim light. He sat across from her, the watch swinging gently from his fingers. "Look at the watch. Just watch it swing. Back and forth. Back and forth."

Lin Wanzhen tried to turn her head away, but Zhao Xue grabbed her chin and forced her gaze forward.

"Look at it," Zhao Xue hissed. "Look, or I'll make this so much worse."

The watch swung. Left. Right. Left. Right. The candle flame danced. The man's voice dropped to a rhythmic murmur, each word falling like a drop of water into still pond.

"Your eyelids are growing heavy, Wan Zhen. So heavy. You can feel the weight pulling them down. It feels good to let them close. So good. Just let go."

"No," Lin Wanzhen breathed. But her eyes were already burning. The fatigue that had become her constant companion in this place surged up, demanding release. She blinked. Blinked again.

"That's it. Close them. Let the darkness take you. You're safe here. Nothing can hurt you in the darkness."

Zhao Xue's grip loosened. The man's voice grew softer, more distant, as if coming from the end of a long tunnel.

"I want you to imagine a door, Wan Zhen. A heavy wooden door. And behind that door is a room. The most peaceful room you've ever seen. All you have to do is walk through the door. Will you walk through the door?"

Lin Wanzhen's lips parted. "I... I don't want to."

"You do want to. Of course you want to. Because in that room, there is no pain. No fear. No Su Yaqing. No Zhao Xue. Just peace. Don't you want peace?"

Su Yaqing's face flashed in her mind. The courtroom. The laughter. The cold metal of the handcuffs. The darkness of her cell at night when the screams of other prisoners echoed through the corridors.

Peace. Yes. She wanted peace.

"Open the door, Wan Zhen. Walk through."

In her mind, the door swung open. Warm light spilled out. She stepped forward.

"Good. Very good. Now you're in the room. Can you feel how soft the floor is? How warm the air feels? This is your safe place. Nothing bad can happen here. Do you understand?"

"Yes," she heard herself say. Her own voice sounded far away.

"In your safe place, you can learn new things. Important things. Things that will help you survive. Are you ready to learn?"

"Yes."

Zhao Xue leaned against the wall, arms crossed, watching with hungry eyes. The hypnotist's voice dropped even lower, taking on a different quality. More commanding. More insistent.

"Repeat after me, Wan Zhen. Obedience is pleasure."

A pause. Lin Wanzhen's brow furrowed. Somewhere deep inside, a tiny voice screamed in protest.

"Obey... obedience is... pleasure."

"Good. Again. Say it like you mean it."

"Obedience is pleasure."

"Resistance is pain."

"Resistance is pain."

"Pain is weakness. Weakness will be punished. Punishment must be accepted. Acceptance brings peace. Peace is pleasure. Obedience is pleasure."

The words flowed over her like water over smooth stones. Each repetition smoothed another rough edge, wore down another point of resistance. She felt herself sinking, deeper and deeper into the warm, soft darkness.

"When you wake, Wan Zhen, you will feel different. You will want to obey. It will feel good to obey. When a guard gives you an order, you will feel a warmth spread through your chest. Do you understand?"

"I... understand."

"When Zhao Xue speaks to you, you will listen with your whole heart. Her voice will be a comfort to you. Her commands will be a gift. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

"When you feel the urge to resist, you will feel pain. Sharp, burning pain. And the only way to make the pain stop is to surrender. To let go. To obey. Do you understand?"

"I understand."

Zhao Xue pushed off from the wall and walked closer. "Tell her about Chen Xiao," she whispered to the hypnotist.

The man nodded. "Wan Zhen, your cellmate Chen Xiao is trying to help you. But her help is poison. It will make you weak. It will make you suffer. When she speaks to you about resistance, you will not hear her words. They will be noise, meaningless noise. You will feel irritation. Discomfort. You will want to be away from her. Do you understand?"

"The poison... Chen Xiao is poison. Yes. I understand."

"One more thing, Wan Zhen. You will not remember this room. You will not remember this man. You will not remember the watch or the candle. When you wake, you will only know that you feel better. Lighter. More peaceful. The old fears, the old anger—they will be far away. Distant. Unimportant. Do you understand?"

"Yes. Distant. Unimportant."

"Now I will count to three. When I reach three, you will wake. You will feel refreshed. Calm. Happy. And the suggestions I have given you will be rooted deep in your mind, like trees with roots that reach to the very center of the earth. One. Feel the energy returning to your body. Two. Feel the light behind your eyelids. Three. Wake."

Lin Wanzhen's eyes opened.

She blinked, confused. The room was dim. Zhao Xue stood before her, and a man was packing something into a leather bag. Had she fallen asleep? She felt strange. Light. As if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders.

"How are you feeling?" Zhao Xue asked.

"Good," Lin Wanzhen said, and she was surprised to find she meant it. "I feel... good."

Zhao Xue smiled. It was almost warm. "I'm glad. We're going to get you back to your cell now. When you get there, I want you to clean the floor. The entire floor. With your hands and a bucket of cold water. Do you understand?"

"Yes." The word came easily. And with it came a warmth, spreading through her chest like honey. It felt right to obey. It felt safe.

The guards entered. They uncuffed her and led her back through the corridors. The lights seemed brighter. The air seemed fresher. The other prisoners who glared at her as she passed—they seemed so angry. So unhappy. Why were they so unhappy? Obedience was so much easier.

Back in the cell, Chen Xiao was waiting. Her eyes widened when she saw Lin Wanzhen's face.

"Wan Zhen? Are you okay? What did they do to you?"

"Nothing," Lin Wanzhen said dreamily. "They helped me. I feel much better now."

She knelt down and began to wipe the floor with her bare hands. The concrete was cold and rough, but she didn't mind. The warmth in her chest was still there. A gentle, pulsing heat that told her she was doing the right thing.

Chen Xiao stared at her. In the dim light of the cell, Lin Wanzhen's eyes were empty. Not blank, exactly. Not lifeless. But empty. As if someone had scooped out everything that made her Lin Wanzhen and left only a shell that smiled and obeyed.

"Wan Zhen," Chen Xiao whispered. "Please. Look at me."

Lin Wanzhen turned her head. Her gaze met Chen Xiao's. For a moment, something flickered in those eyes. Something small and desperate and drowning.

But then the warmth returned. The flicker died.

"I have to finish the floor," Lin Wanzhen said. "Zhao Xue told me to finish the floor."

She turned back to her work, her hands moving in slow, methodical circles. Water dripped from her fingers. The cold seeped into her skin. And through it all, she smiled.

Chen Xiao sat on her bunk, her hands shaking. She had seen this before. Years ago, in another cell, another girl had come back from the interrogation room with that same smile. That same empty peace. That girl had hung herself three weeks later, still smiling, still obedient, right up until the moment the belt tightened around her throat.

"Wan Zhen," Chen Xiao said, her voice cracking. "Fight it. Please. You have to fight."

But Lin Wanzhen did not respond. She just kept wiping the floor, her smile fixed and serene, as the shadows in the cell grew longer and the light from the single barred window slowly died.