Chapter 20

For the next two days, Xu Tianyou remained unusually quiet, lying in bed most of the time with his eyes open, lost in thought.

On the third day, Xu Tianyou was taken to another room for a check-up. Meanwhile, Yang Yuanbing, who hadn’t been around for a while, suddenly showed up.

“Are you close with Tian Qiaoguang?” Yang Yuanbing asked bluntly as soon as he entered the room.

“I know who he is, but he might not even know me. We’re not close,” An Xiaohai quickly replied.

Tian Qiaoguang was a prison guard at the First Prison in Shenhai City, mainly in charge of the reading room. An Xiaohai knew of him, but he genuinely wasn’t sure if Tian recognized him.

An Xiaohai’s response was straightforward and clear.

For Yang Yuanbing to go out of his way to bring this up, there had to be a reason.

Some things need to be handled vaguely, but other things should be as clear as possible. If everything’s too ambiguous, it’ll make those willing to help hesitant to do so.

Yang Yuanbing, despite being greedy, had proven himself trustworthy so far. An Xiaohai was careful to maintain their relationship, knowing it wouldn’t do him any good if Yang stopped offering help.

“I see… so he’s just interested in your skills,” Yang said, stroking his chin.

An Xiaohai immediately realized that his improvement of the circuit board had worked, and the results came faster than expected!

“Tian Qiaoguang submitted a request to borrow you for a while to help a cooperating business solve some technical issues. But his request was denied by the higher-ups. Normally, I shouldn’t be telling you this.”

“I understand. Thank you, Officer Yang!”

“Alright, I have other things to do. Oh, by the way, stay away from Xu Tianyou; he won’t be around much longer… anyway, I’m off. Focus on your rehabilitation and don’t burden yourself too much.”

After Yang Yuanbing left, An Xiaohai’s brow furrowed deeply.

Another month had passed. His family must have brought him more cigarettes. It was clear that Yang was hinting at something and wanted him to pass the information to Xu Tianyou, hoping to profit from it somehow.

Yang’s behavior was another reminder of how people like him viewed prisoners as mere commodities, regardless of any affiliations. For these prison guards, loyalty meant nothing unless it threatened their wealth or promotion.

Xu Tianyou soon returned, looking just as vacant and lifeless as before. An Xiaohai kept quiet, planning to carefully weigh the pros and cons before deciding on any course of action.

The group behind Xu Tianyou was the Sea Buddha Organization, based in Haixi Province. They were likely in a competitive and hostile relationship with the Hai Yao Zi Group.

If An Xiaohai chose to help Xu, he would be positioned against the Hai Yao Zi Group, potentially endangering himself and making it more difficult to keep his promise to Wang Tiejun.

Would there be benefits to helping Xu Tianyou? Certainly.

At the very least, Xu’s influence could protect him from most threats within the prison. However, for that protection to be effective, Xu would need to be able to defend himself — or ideally, to be outside prison, alive and active. His presence on the outside would make others think twice about targeting An Xiaohai.

But it wasn’t that An Xiaohai trusted Xu Tianyou to be honorable.

Neither Xu, Yang Yuanbing, nor people like Wu Guanhai valued loyalty. In their world, loyalty only got you so far — people who valued loyalty often ended up dead.

These people only cared about their interests. If the price was right, they’d even betray their own family. Wang Tiejun was the rare exception, embodying not only loyalty but also a sense of justice.

However, someone like Xu still had to appear loyal, if only to maintain control over his subordinates. Helping Xu Tianyou would create a sense of debt, but delivering that help in a way that protected himself would be a difficult task.

That afternoon, Pan Zhuangzhuang visited with An Xiaohai’s grandmother.

An Xiaohai couldn’t help but smile bitterly; he was in the infirmary each time his family or friends came to see him. How ironic!

His grandmother couldn’t fully express herself anymore and kept crying through the glass window. No matter how he tried to comfort her, it was useless.

During the visit, Pan Zhuangzhuang didn’t say much, only telling him that they had brought clothes and money for him, along with a letter from Chen Shuifen.

An Xiaohai immediately understood that any vital information would be in that letter.

He and Pan Zhuangzhuang had developed a highly discreet code for communication. Originally, this code was meant to help Pan cheat on exams, and it was almost impossible to detect. Only he, Pan Zhuangzhuang, and Lin Xuan’er knew how to use it, relying heavily on An Xiaohai’s remarkable memory.

Unexpectedly, that system was proving useful here.

The items would naturally have to go through security first, with An Xiaohai only able to collect them after inspection.

After parting with his grandmother and Pan, a prison guard soon escorted An Xiaohai to the inspection room to pick up his items. Something about the efficiency struck him as odd.

Typically, the prison didn’t operate so swiftly. Were they rushing to finish before a shift change? That didn’t seem likely, as he knew all the shift times well, and they were still far off.

He took a closer look at the guard escorting him.

The man was around forty, with heavy dark circles under his eyes, partially obscured by his dark complexion.

An Xiaohai walked slowly, and though the guard didn’t say anything, he seemed a bit impatient.

“There’s the inspection room. Go in, grab your things, and come back quickly. No funny business!” At a corner, the guard suddenly stopped, lighting a cigarette as he spoke.

An Xiaohai’s internal alarms went off. This was all too unusual.

From where he was standing to the inspection room, there was a hallway he would have to walk down alone. Once he entered, he would be out of the guard’s sight until he turned a corner some 20 meters down.

Though it was an enclosed area, meaning escape was impossible, one of the prison’s strictest rules was that prisoners must always remain in view, especially in unsecured areas.

An experienced guard like this shouldn’t be making such a rookie mistake.

What was he planning? Was this genuine negligence, or was something else at play?