On the eve of Thanksgiving, Mo Zimu earned himself a brief moment of phone privileges after screening a few adult films for the big shots in A Block.

He dialed the number for his guardian in Austria. On the other end, there was sobbing even before any words were spoken. “My poor Seven…”

“Glenna, dear, don’t cry. If you cry off your eyeliner, wouldn’t that be a shame?” Mo Zimu said with a smile.

He did his best to hide in the deepest part of the library, sitting on a windowsill. The library was built on a steep cliff, so no one would even think of escaping from here. However, from this spot, he could see almost the entire coastal area of the security zone, including the dock.

Mo Zimu covered the phone’s microphone with his hand to prevent the sounds of moaning from the adult films playing on the computer from being overheard.

“Have you transferred my guardianship to someone else?”

“Oh no! You are my baby. I would never hand you over to anyone else.”

Mo Zimu smiled faintly. At that moment, his expression was softer than usual. In a low voice, he said, “Thank you.”

After exchanging a few more words with Glenna, he hung up and let out a deep breath. When he turned around, Ivan was standing right in front of him.

He was so close that Mo Zimu could feel the heat of his breath, carrying a faint but pleasant smoky scent.

He immediately jumped down from the windowsill and said, “Boss Ivan, are you done watching?”

Ivan frowned. “I’ve seen too many of those lately. Got anything else worth watching?”

Mo Zimu thought for a moment. “How about a Chinese martial arts film?”

“Hmm, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon?”

“No, something more traditional.”

And so, from that day on, the one-hour usually reserved for adult films became martial arts movie time. Although most of the inmates didn’t understand Cantonese, they could follow the subtitles.

However, Mo Zimu often couldn’t leave during these sessions, as they sometimes needed him to explain English terms they didn’t understand.

After watching The Book and the Sword, Ivan stretched lazily and said, “Bullshit. Chinese gangs are tougher than us.”

After The Legend of the Condor Heroes, Ivan turned to Sticks, “No wonder Chinese women love marrying American men.”

Although Ivan seemed to enjoy the films, the others in A Block started grumbling, demanding they return to playing adult movies.

Ivan turned around and asked, “Baby, how do you say a more refined kind of pursuit?”

Mo Zimu closed his book and replied, “How about ‘engage in’?”

Ivan rolled his eyes and let out a long sigh. “Great phrase. Real sophisticated. You bastards are just a bunch of illiterate thugs who only know how to engage in fucking.
Be more like Seven, have some other pursuits for once!”

Hearing that, Mo Zimu’s hand slipped, and his book tumbled to the floor. But he quickly picked it up, expressionless, and continued flipping through it, enduring yet another dull hour in silence.

—–

One day, after finishing his shower, Jude approached Mo Zimu, trying to strike up a conversation. He had likely figured out that beneath Mo Zimu’s cold exterior, he was probably the softest in the group.

Now, Jude clung to him closely, following him everywhere except the library, which he couldn’t enter.

“Ah, little beauty…” Before they could leave, Teabag appeared at the bathroom door with a malicious grin.

Jude had already been harassed a few times, but thanks to bad timing and the fact that there was still a difference between B and C Block, Teabag’s men hadn’t managed to get their way.

But today, Teabag seemed determined, arriving with a clear plan.

“Four-eyes, are you coming out, or do you want to stay and join the fun?” he sneered, clearly hinting that he wouldn’t mind adding Mo Zimu to his list.

However, Mo Zimu’s ties with the A Block bosses made Teabag think twice about pushing his luck. No way he was gonna piss off the big shots over some four-eyed bastard.

“Well then, we’ll take our leave,” Mo Zimu said calmly.

Teabag blocked him after just a few steps, sneering coldly. “Four-eyes, don’t get too cocky just because you have Ivan backing you. He’s not into fucking asses, so who knows how far he’d go to defend you. Letting you walk out of here is me giving him face. But if we really come to blows, even if I fuck you, it’s not like he’d go to war with me over it.”

Mo Zimu lowered his head slightly. Teabag’s voice turned colder. “Are you leaving or not?”

As soon as he finished speaking, the men behind him closed in, eyes gleaming with hunger, throats bobbing as they swallowed hard. They looked more than eager to share an extra plaything.

After a long pause, Mo Zimu finally raised his head and glanced at Jude. Teabag, growing impatient, said, “Don’t worry. We’ll just have some fun with the little beauty. We won’t kill him.”

“Only you,” Mo Zimu said calmly after another moment of silence. “You’re the only one who can touch him.”

Jude’s face turned pale, and he cried out, “No, I don’t want this, Seven!”

Mo Zimu met Teabag’s eyes directly. “Otherwise, you’ll have to gamble on whether Ivan will come after you.”

Through those glasses, Teabag met Mo Zimu’s gaze. The look behind the lenses was not sharp enough to make him lose his temper and not cold enough to be truly chilling. Instead, it was like moonlight, soft but unsettling, carrying a subtle coldness that made one uncomfortable.

Teabag felt a surge of frustration. He couldn’t explain why, but it felt like he’d been cheated somehow, even though he couldn’t quite put his finger on it.

“Fuck!” he snapped, grabbing Jude by the arm and dragging him toward the bathroom as Jude screamed and struggled.

“I’ll wait for you outside.” Mo Zimu spoke quietly and walked out the door.

Moments later, screams echoed from inside. Mo Zimu leaned lightly against the wall outside the bathroom, listening to the vulgar words, laughter, and other noises filtering through the door.

An hour passed before Teabag stepped out, looking thoroughly satisfied. “He’s under my protection from now on. Got it?” he said to Mo Zimu.

Mo Zimu nodded slightly, then stepped past him into the bathroom.

Inside, Jude lay naked on a chair, his body covered in a mixture of semen and blood. Mo Zimu helped him up, turned on the faucet, and began washing the filth from his body.

“The second time,” Jude muttered numbly.

“Hmm?”

“This is the second time you’ve let someone violate me.”

Mo Zimu remained silent for a moment before replying, “Do you want me to say I’m sorry?”

Jude turned his face and shouted. “I thought you were the only clean person in this filthy place. You wouldn’t betray someone. You wouldn’t abandon anyone. I thought you’d save me!”

“You’re wrong. No one can save you here. The only person who can save you is yourself,” Mo Zimu replied calmly.

Jude stared at him for a long moment before saying, “You’re right.” He shook off Mo Zimu’s supporting hand, limping as he left the room.

Mo Zimu turned and followed him out the door, just as Ivan and his group passed by.

Ivan spotted Jude in his disheveled, battered state and laughed. “Teabag really can’t keep it in his pants, huh? I’ll never understand the appeal of a man’s shithole.”

Then he caught sight of Mo Zimu following behind. He looked him up and down and smirked. “Not bad. As long as you don’t cause trouble, Teabag won’t bother you.”

Ivan led his group away. Mo Zimu closed his eyes and sighed, irritated by the thought that had lingered in his mind earlier. He had caught himself wishing Ivan had shown up sooner, sparing him from the need to sell someone else out. What a pathetic thing to hope for.

—–

The shadow of Donald violating him still loomed over Mo Zimu. Desperate to avoid him, he went to Norton and asked to cancel any meeting requested by Donald.

“But Seven, Donald is offering a hundred thousand dollars for just one night with you… A hundred thousand!” Norton’s voice was heavy with regret. “Money is crude and vulgar, but sometimes, you have no choice but to bow to it.”

Mo Zimu was silent for a moment before asking, “Boss, if you had to choose between your art and that hundred thousand dollars, what would you pick?”

“Hmm?” Norton raised his head.

Mo Zimu began unbuttoning his shirt and pulling down his pants. He had always carried himself with a natural elegance, and even the act of undressing seemed refined. When he stripped bare, he turned around, revealing the tattoo inked across the curves of his ass.

“I believe if you were to depict the resurrection of Christ, the center of the composition would need to be in this crevice.” He traced a finger over the spot. “That would require my cooperation, wouldn’t it? If I said I was willing, would that be enough to keep you from bowing to something so crude and vulgar?”

Norton’s gaze lingered on the tattoo, and he drew in a deep breath. The flawless curve of Mo Zimu’s body combined with the intricately detailed tattoo was an indescribably seductive sight.

“At least… until you finish the piece, how about we say no?”

“Deal,” Norton said hoarsely. “You’re very persuasive when you’re naked.”

Mo Zimu chuckled, bent down to pick up his clothes, and dressed himself piece by piece. Straightening his cuffs, he said, “Then it’s settled.”

Norton watched him walk away, exhaling deeply only after his silhouette disappeared. “Beauty is a kind of fate. At its best, it’s a gift. At its worst, a curse. Seven, do you think you’ve had more fortune or misfortune?”

Returning to the cell, Mo Zimu found the railings and door crowded with people. Whenever something major happened in the block, inmates liked to gather and decide matters collectively.

The leader of C Block stood on the second floor, red-faced and shouting. Tommy looked furious, while Jude’s face was as pale as a corpse. Tom was nowhere to be seen.

Mo Zimu hurriedly climbed the stairs, taking them three steps at a time.

Teabag spread his hands and said with a smirk, “A little New Year’s entertainment. Come on, Pusbucket, don’t ruin the fun.”

Pusbucket didn’t respond, but Tommy stepped forward and said, “If you can’t protect the brothers in C Block, then step down!”

His words set off a flurry of whistles and jeers. Inmates started banging hard objects against the railings, creating a deafening racket that echoed through the air.

Sensing the tide turning against him, Pusbucket retorted, “Teabag, if B Block likes to host these sodomy shows, let your people do it. Why should C Block have to provide anyone?”

Teabag replied in a mocking tone, “The show always features the most beautiful person in the block. That’s been Mammon’s tradition for as long as I can remember. Right, Ivan?”

Ivan raised an eyebrow, “That’s true. Teabag goes out of his way to sacrifice himself to quench everyone’s thirst. Such dedication, Pusbucket. You really shouldn’t say no.”

With Ivan’s support, Teabag grew even more smug. “By tradition, it’s always someone who’s been used before and doesn’t have a partner. That makes him the perfect candidate, doesn’t it?”

Pusbucket’s face turned crimson with anger. Tommy’s expression grew darker, while Jude looked utterly defeated, his face pale as death.

Mo Zimu frowned, and Tom waved to him from inside their dormitory. Just as he was about to turn and leave, Jude suddenly shouted, “Wait!”

Jude, usually timid and frail, now has bloodshot eyes. Clenching his teeth, he growled, “I’m not the most beautiful in this block.” Then, in a sudden motion, he snatched the glasses off Mo Zimu’s face.

Mo Zimu was caught completely off guard and froze in shock. Without the thick, bulky black frames, his delicate and handsome features were fully exposed. Even from a distance, it was obvious he was a damn good-looking young man.

Unlike the striking features of blond hair and blue eyes, Mo Zimu’s appearance carried the subtle elegance of an ink painting, mysterious and alluring in a way that was hard to describe.

Mo Zimu snatched the glasses back angrily, his expression a mixture of confusion and fury. Jude locked eyes with him, lips pressed tightly together, his gaze defiant.

He shouted, “He stabbed the guard because he was being sold to outsiders for sex! He doesn’t have a partner either, so he fits the rules perfectly!”

Tommy slapped Jude hard across the face, knocking him to the ground. “Have you fucking lost your mind?”

Jude screamed from the floor, “Why do I have to be the one forced into a gang-bang show? Why does he get to stay out of it?”

Mo Zimu put his glasses back on, his hands shaking slightly. He couldn’t tell whether he was angry or sad, or if those feelings were for himself or the person he had once protected.

Tommy kicked Jude hard, making him curl up in pain on the ground. He sobbed and cried out, “You can abandon me, but you won’t abandon him because he has protection! Why? Why do I always have to be the one getting hurt?”

Mo Zimu closed his eyes for a moment, turned around, and walked into the cell. Inside, Tom whispered, “Damn it! I knew this guy was a stubborn son of a bitch.”

The hall stayed lively for a while before Teabag spoke up loudly, “Wow, just as I thought, top-tier!” He turned to Ivan, “I remember he said he’s not your guy, right?”

Ivan scratched his thick eyebrows and replied, “That’s right. I’m not as into asses as you are.”

Teabag let out an odd chuckle and said, “Since you don’t object, then it’s him.”

Ivan sighed, “Am I supposed to break the prison’s traditions?”

Mo Zimu hadn’t placed much hope in Ivan, a fellow criminal, but hearing him say that still made his heart sink. He leaned helplessly against the wall.

The bell rang outside, signaling the end of free time.

Tommy walked in with a stern expression, followed by Jude. The moment he stepped in, Tom raised his hand, ready to hit him. But then, he caught sight of the vicious look in Jude’s eyes and hesitated for a moment.

Right then, Mo Zimu’s cold voice cut through the air. “No need to beat him. I just don’t recognize him as my ally anymore.”

Tom suddenly felt uneasy under Jude’s intense gaze, so he withdrew his hand and angrily shouted, “Me too!”

The room fell into an oppressive silence. Mo Zimu lay awake for most of the night, restless and unable to sleep.