Handong: Sha Li wants political achievements? I'll shut down the entire province.

Handong Qincheng Prison.

Even the cold winter winds in this place have an eerie quality.

The corridors of the seventh prison ward are perpetually devoid of sunlight.

The air was thick with the pungent smell of bleach.

Hidden beneath was a musty, sour smell of dampness and mold growing from the base of the wall, which seemed to seep straight into one's nostrils.

Zhao Ruilong sat cross-legged on the hard single iron bed.

He was wearing a faded striped prison uniform.

The collar area was covered in a disgusting layer of buttery stains because it hadn't been washed for a long time.

He was holding an aluminum lunchbox with a dented corner.

He picked up a plastic spoon with a broken handle and listlessly rummaged through it.

The bottom of the lunchbox made a screeching sound as it scraped against metal.

There were only a few pieces of boiled cabbage stalks inside, not even a drop of sesame oil.

The cabbage fibers are coarse and tough, looking almost like chewed sugarcane residue.

Zhao Ruilong forced a mouthful into his mouth.

The rough vegetable scraped across his throat, making his mucous membranes ache.

As I swallowed, my Adam's apple bobbed up and down twice with difficulty.

"Pooh!"

He spat directly onto the ground, his spittle carrying bits of vegetable scraps far away.

"Is this even fit for human consumption? Even stray dogs would find it disgusting!"

Zhao Ruilong slammed the lunchbox onto the bed.

The sheet metal slammed against the iron pipe frame with a loud "bang," making his hand tingle slightly.

Several bald prisoners in the cell opposite were leaning on the bars, grinning.

"Young Master Zhao, save your energy. These days, even prices outside are controlled by the Lingxiao Consortium. Who's going to indulge your spoiled young master's appetite anymore?"

"Bullshit!"

Zhao Ruilong suddenly sprang up and rushed to the iron fence in a few steps.

He gripped the rusted steel bars tightly with both hands, his face trembling with rage.

His chest heaved violently, and his eyes widened in shock.

"What kind of bastard is the Lingxiao Consortium! I'm only here temporarily!"

He barked wildly in the empty corridor, his voice hoarse and broken.

"My second sister manages a trust fund worth tens of billions of dollars in Los Angeles!"

"Those Wall Street bigwigs are all honored guests at my house!"

Zhao Ruilong spat a mouthful of yellow phlegm onto the cement floor of the corridor.

"Once this heat dies down, getting me medical parole will be a piece of cake, right? Then I'll use my dollars to raze this lousy prison to the ground!"

The prisoner who had just spoken shrank back, too lazy to bother with this lunatic who was living in a dream world.

Prison guard Xiao Liu happened to stroll by carrying a baton.

The police boots made a "splat" sound as they stepped into the puddles.

He gave a cold laugh, without even lifting an eyelid.

"Young Master Zhao, if you can't sleep, drink more cool water. You'll have all sorts of dreams."

Zhao Ruilong was about to start cursing.

At the corner of the corridor ceiling, the old Changhong television set, which was usually only used to broadcast the evening news, suddenly emitted a piercing "sizzle" sound.

The screen, which was originally full of static, suddenly flashed blue light.

The signal was forcibly cut off.

Lingxiao Media's dark gold cloud logo features an arrogant 3D animation.

It directly and domineeringly filled the entire 21-inch broken screen.

Immediately afterwards, the speaker's distorted sound came from the loudspeaker.

Reports have surfaced of a news anchor's cold, emotionless voice during broadcasts.

"Now for a breaking news report from overseas. Just one hour ago, all of the Zhao family's overseas assets were completely liquidated."

The swear words that Zhao Ruilong was about to utter were abruptly stuck in his throat.

He felt as if someone had hit him on the back of the head with a large iron hammer.

My ears were instantly filled with a high-frequency buzzing sound.

His fingers froze in mid-air.

My gaze was fixed on the screen as if nailed down, and I didn't dare to blink.

The scene then cuts directly to Beverly Hills in Los Angeles.

There was no pixelation or blurring of the background.

The resolution is so high that even a single raindrop drifting across the lens is clearly visible.

The Porsche supercar, worth 20 million, was being engulfed by a ball of orange flames.

Flames licked the roof of the car relentlessly, leaving only a blackened frame.

On the lawn next to it, precious Bulgarian roses were uprooted by the helicopter rotor, and mud was scattered everywhere.

In the background is Zhao Xiaohui's luxurious hillside villa.

The bulletproof glass on the second floor was completely shattered, like a corpse with its internal organs removed, a dark, gaping hole.

Zhao Ruilong's lips began to tremble uncontrollably.

The upper and lower gums clashed together, making a teeth-grinding "clucking" sound.

His kneecaps were weak, and he only managed to stay on the ground by clinging tightly to the railing.

"Is this...is this a movie shoot?"

He turned his head, pointed at the TV, and laughed twice at Xiao Liuqian, a laugh that was more like a grimace.

The muscles at the corners of his eyes twitched unnaturally.

"It's absolutely fake! Yan Qingfeng had someone create a composite video! That bastard's trying to scam me, trying to get me to confess!"

Below the TV screen.

A long string of scarlet subtitles scrolled out, so bright it was almost blinding.

[The Zhao family's illegal overseas trust funds have all been seized, totaling US$73 billion, and frozen. Their wineries and real estate holdings have all been auctioned off at low prices.]

Then, the screen flashed again.

Zhao Xiaohui, with her hair disheveled, squatted in a puddle on a street in Los Angeles.

She was wearing only a thin silk nightgown, which was soaked through by the freezing rain.

Clinging tightly to my body, I was so cold that my whole body turned blue and I was shivering.

Next to her was a smelly green trash can.

He clutched a boarding pass, soaked by the rain, to his chest, his eyes blank and unfocused.

She was muttering to herself, just like a crazy old woman who had just escaped from a mental hospital.

This is completely out of control now.

Zhao Ruilong felt as if a rusty razor blade was churning wildly inside his stomach.

The two mouthfuls of coarse cabbage that I had just managed to swallow, mixed with stomach acid, rushed down my esophagus like a tidal wave.

"vomit--"

He suddenly bent over, gripping the iron bars with both hands, his jaw agape.

A pungent, sour gastric juice, mixed with partially digested cabbage residue, sprayed directly onto the cement floor of the corridor.

Many of the splattered items even landed on his own old cloth shoes.

My throat was burning from the stomach acid, like I had swallowed a piece of red-hot charcoal.

Tears and snot streamed down his face, making him look disheveled.

It's sticky and stringy.

His calves suddenly cramped, and he couldn't stand up at all.

With a "thump," his knees slammed heavily onto the rough cement ground.

The bone struck the hard ground with a dull thud.

"Gone? All gone? Over 70 billion!"

Zhao Ruilong frantically grabbed at his scalp with both hands, the veins on the back of his hands bulging.

The fingernails dug deep into the scalp.

He forcefully scratched off several pieces of bloody dandruff with hair follicles still attached.

The crevices under my fingernails were completely filled with sticky blood vessels.

My hair, which was already tangled from not washing it, is now being pulled like a mad dog.

"It's fake! You son of a bitch, Yan Qingfeng! How dare you touch the Zhao family's money!"

He sprang up from the ground like a wild boar in heat.

He recklessly rammed his head against the thick iron fence.

"Bang!"

The dull thud shook the entire iron gate of the cell.

A large section of the white plaster from the ceiling was shaken off.

A large, purplish-red bump instantly swelled up on his forehead, and the skin ruptured.

Blood beads were seeping out.

Warm blood flowed down his brow bone into his left eye socket, blurring his vision to a crimson red.

He felt no pain at all, roaring with his mouth wide open, spitting saliva onto the railing.

"I am Young Master Zhao! My father is Zhao Lichun! Half of Handong belongs to my family!"

He shook the iron gate frantically with both hands.

The lock and latch clanged together, producing a harsh metallic scraping sound that echoed back and forth in the corridor.

"Let me out! I'm calling the capital! I'm ordering people to kill Yan Qingfeng!"

The prisoners in the next few cells were all peering through the cracks in their doors to watch the commotion, whispering among themselves.

"Damn, Young Master Zhao has really gone mad this time."

"What Young Master Zhao? The conglomerate has stripped him bare, and now he's worse off than a beggar."

Prison guard Xiao Liu didn't even bend over.

He took out the riot baton clipped to his belt and tossed it in his hand.

He coldly watched Zhao Ruilong kneeling on the ground, writhing in pain like a maggot.

Xiao Liu pulled out a police tablet, a standard issue issued by the Lingxiao Consortium, from his shirt pocket.

He casually swiped his thumb across the screen twice, bringing up Zhao Ruilong's electronic file.

In the "Mental State Assessment" section, a red checkmark was placed directly.

"Alright, stop howling."

Xiao Liu tapped the iron gate with his baton, making two crisp "clang" sounds.

He looked down at Zhao Ruilong's face, which was covered in blood and snot, as if he were looking at a pile of unrecyclable garbage.

"The economy class ticket your second sister is holding was bought for her by Master Yan out of kindness."

Zhao Ruilong gritted his teeth.

My gums couldn't withstand the pressure and started bleeding, and my mouth tasted rusty.

"Yan...Yan Qingfeng...he deserves to die a horrible death..."

His voice cracked completely, emitting a hissing sound like a broken bellows leaking air.

Xiao Liu put the tablet back in his pocket, a mocking smile playing on his lips, and turned to leave.

"I don't know whether Master Yan is good or bad in death."

He paused, turned around and glanced at Zhao Ruilong, who looked like a lump of mud.

"However, I just received a notification from Director Zhao that your cell will need a new berth tomorrow."

Zhao Ruilong was stunned, his eyelashes, still covered in blood scabs, trembled twice.

His eyes regained a little focus.

"Add...add who?"

Xiao Liu grinned, revealing two rows of gleaming white teeth.

"You know this guy very well. He's Tian Guofu, the former secretary of the provincial discipline inspection commission."

"He just got beaten up like a pig's head by an old lady buying vegetables at the farmers' market and was brought in. The bureau chief said he's here to have a good chat with you."