Then he disappeared down the corridor, leaving behind the scent of clove cigarettes and something colder—unspoken threat, sealed with cash and control.
Chang Xiao gave a slight nod to Warden Liu before closing the door. Steadily, he follows Dong Yingming back to his cell. This was mainly out of formality rather than to actually guard.
His mind raced with unanswered questions. All unspeakable as they pertaining to the sick inmate that lay comfortably in his boss's bed. He could do nothing but hold it in. He'd just have to answer his own questions through observation.
…
The door slammed open again at the moment before contact.
"Hey! What's with the constant buzzing? Didn't you help Boss's man yet, Zhao Heng?"
"Wei Jiang! I-I…"
Zhao Heng stood rooted on his spot. Quickly, he retracts his hand and hides it behind his back. Wei Jiang noticed this action, he couldn't help but give a galnce at the boy laying on his boss's bed. A dark shadow covered his face as he stared down Zhao Heng like a boy who was caught with his hand in the cookie jar.
Wei Jiang is lean and sharp-edged for a late 20 year old, built like a whip—tall, with long limbs and an angular frame that moves with unsettling quietness. His uniform is worn loose, collar always slightly open, sleeves often rolled just above the forearms to reveal faint burn marks and old knife scars—reminders of back-alley jobs and lessons learned the hard way.
His face is all hard lines: high cheekbones, a narrow jaw, and eyes that gleam with a constant calculating glint. Dark brows are always drawn low in a look of vague skepticism. His hair is black, shaved tight on the sides but left longer on top, perpetually falling across his brow in uneven strands. His mouth almost never smiles, but when it does, it's lopsided—mocking more than amused.
A single silver stud pierces his left ear. It's against regulation, but no one has the guts to say anything.
He scrutinized the pathetic man with a lit cigarette before him.
Zhao Heng is the irritated, sharp-tongued, rough-around-the-edges type in his early 30's. Built like a brick wall, with a perpetually tired glare and a cigarette always clinging to his lip, Zhao Heng serves Dong Yingming out of fear more than devotion. He resents taking orders he sees as beneath him—especially when they involve tending to the "spoiled little thing" in the cell. But he knows better than to step out of line. His bark is louder than his bite… unless no one's watching such as right now.
He's the kind who mutters under his breath, slams doors too hard, and obeys—but just barely. Always one wrong word away from getting his jaw broken. The scars on his jaw are proof this had been the case on more than one occasion.
Wei Jiang walked towards the two on the other side of the cell room. He takes a closer look at Yao Ziyang and first notices his flushed cheeks and dampened sheets that stuck to him like a second skin. Shifting his attention back to Zhao Heng, he spoke matter-a-factly.
"Get Dr. Zhang. Now."
This earns him an irate glare from the other guard. However, seeing as how Wei Jiang out ranked him, he saw no other choice. Zhao Heng turns and walks out the cell, not without litting another cigarette on his way out.
The door slammed shut, as if Zhao Heng was taking out his frustration on it rather than his fellow coworker. Wei Jiang gave it no thought and went into the bathroom. Taking a small towel, he dampens it and goes to wipe Yao Ziyang's face and neck.
Yao Ziyang couldn't help but let a satisfying sigh escape his lips. Even Wei Jiang wasn't immune to this sickly mans charm, and a slight blush creep up his cheeks. It was nearing lunch, and Yao Ziyang had yet to eat. He decided to go and get Yao Ziyang's meal, but before he could, the cell door once again opened.
This time, it was Zhang Wei followed by a grumpy Zhao Heng and a third guard. He carried three large boxes.
Chen Bo was what was etched to his bronze tag that matched Zhao Heng's. Indicating his low-rank guard status.
Chen Bo is a young 21 year old, broad-shouldered but soft around the edges man, with a boyish face that hasn't quite caught up to the harshness of life. He's got warm honey-brown eyes and a mouth that's almost always curved into a sheepish grin or a poorly suppressed laugh. His short, slightly tousled hair never seems fully combed, and he wears his uniform with that signature carelessness—shirt untucked in the back, name tag slightly askew, bootlaces undone.
He often forgets to wear his belt or walks around with a pen stuck behind one ear and another in his back pocket, both of which he claims he "might need later."
"Wow! What a party! I only came to drop off some clothes. Everything good here, Zhao Heng, Wei Jiang?"
Chen Bo gave his signature goofy smile before setting down the boxes by the dresser. On top of the boxes, Wei Jiang failed to notice at first glance, was a tray. Chicken congee, a small bowl of golden milk, and the herbal decoction were on the menu for today's lunch.
Wei Jiang nodded once as approval and moved to get the tray of food. Dr. Zhang took this to go examine Yao Ziyang's current state. Without Dong Yingming's presence, he moved more efficiently and determined Yao Ziyang was placed under extreme stress, which led to his spiked fever. He'll have to ask Dong Yingming to be more careful.
Dr. Zhang considered reaching out to his mentor to see about curing this young man. Due to his appearance, it was no doubt he must be the young master of a rich family. However, his records showed no money transaction sent to him, and his cell gave the impression he was poor. Is it possible he might have been disowned for his crime?
While Dr. Zhang was pondering, Wei Jiang walked towards Yao Ziyang with the food. However, when he saw Zhao Heng lite another cigarette. Usually, he wouldn't care, but the thought that this ill beauty is this fool's responsibility and he's just standing by, doing nothing really pissed him off.
He goes and shoved the tray harshly against Zhao Heng's stomach. His demeanor icey as he spoke.
"Feed him."
Wei Jiang is the kind of man who speaks only when necessary, and when he does, it's with words that cut like glass. He's observant—always watching from the edges of a room, leaning against walls, arms crossed, saying nothing while taking in everything.
He doesn't challenge Dong Yingming, but he also doesn't grovel. His loyalty is quiet, practical, and deeply embedded. He respects power, and he knows where it lives.
He's known for getting his hands dirty when needed, but without ego. Torture, intimidation, blackmail—he handles the filth with a clean efficiency, no thrill, no cruelty. Just results. He's a fixer, the kind of man you send when something needs to disappear without a ripple.
And this frightened Zhao Heng, much to his annoyance. This man is younger than him yet he's already out ranked! It was an embarrassment, and now he's tasked with looking after a dying man. But he had no choice, once again. Reluctantly, Zhao Heng sneers as a response but takes the tray and saunters over.
Dr. Zhang made way for the fellow, taking the herbal decoction to heat it up once more in the microwave. The food had cooled enough so Zhao Heng merely only need to feed it to Yao Ziyang. Yet he had other plans.
A snicker makes it way through his throat but before it could escape, he swallows it down. Lowering his head, no one saw the lustful glint that flashed in his dark eyes. He reaches his rough hand out and pries open Yao Ziyang's mouth. Before he could be stopped, he takes a spoonful of congee, spilling most of it everywhere and dumps whats left down Yao Ziyang's throat.
This action shocks both Dr. Zhang and Wei Jiang who rush to stop Zhao Heng. Chen Bo took no notice and continued to unpack the new clothes, admiring the material from time to time, off in his own world.
"Bastard!"
"Guard Zhao, what are you doing! He is a patient! And need I remind you who's cell we are in!"
Dr. Zhang was pale, not only was he worried about Yao Ziyang but also being blamed should this effect his recovery! Wei Jiang was incredibly angered but held it back. Seeing the food and sweat staining Yao Ziyang's old worn-out clothes, he goes towards the dresser and holds out his hand.
Chen Bo, sensing the overwhelming presence of his fellow guard, he stops folding and asks innocently.
"Ah, sorry. Wei Jiang, did you need something?"
"Shirt."
Giving a nod, Chen Bo looks through the boxes and finds a navy blue long sleeve prison shirt. He hands it over and Wei Jiang goes to see about helping Yao Ziyang change. Before he could, Zhao Heng seemed to have the same thought, little did Wei Jiang know this was his actual plan.