Her face carried its own constellation of injuries, Lin Feng had been stronger than her, and his desperate strikes had left marks that would take weeks to fade. Her eye was swollen nearly shut, her cheekbone tender and possibly fractured, her neck bearing the marks where he’d grabbed her hair and yanked with strength born of survival instinct.
"Eat your breakfast," her cellmate said with false kindness, gesturing to the tray the guards had shoved through the slot. "Or don’t. I don’t really care. But you should know that refusing food here just makes everything harder."
Madam Chen couldn’t have eaten even if she’d wanted to. Her stomach churned with nausea every ti she thought about the fight, about hitting her own husband, about being forced to hurt him while strangers cheered. The mory played on repeat in her mind, the feel of her fist connecting with his flesh, the sound of his gasps when she’d accidentally hit his throat, the blood that had spattered across both of them.
"I want to die," she whispered, the words barely audible.
Her cellmate laughed, sharp and humorless. "Yeah, most people feel that way their first week here. But dying’s harder than you think in this place. The guards won’t let you do it, suicide watch is strict, and they need to keep the bodies alive for processing and eventual release. You’ll suffer, but you’ll survive. That’s the real punishnt."
Madam Chen closed her eyes, fresh tears leaking from beneath the lids. Yesterday morning, she’d been a wealthy woman with status and connections and a life of luxury. Now she was lying on a thin prison mattress with broken hands and a shattered face, sharing a cell with soone who hated her, facing years of this existence with no hope of escape.
Her mind went to Shuyin, to the cold satisfaction in her stepdaughter’s eyes as she’d watched them fight. The girl she’d helped imprison and tornt had survived everything they’d done to her and erged powerful enough to orchestrate this nightmare. Madam Chen had underestimated her so completely, had thought of her as weak and helpless, soone to be used and discarded.
The reality was that Shuyin had been waiting, planning, gathering power, and when the mont ca, she’d struck with surgical precision. The mansion was gone, seized. The assets were frozen. Lin Feng was imprisoned with n who wanted him dead. And Madam Chen herself was locked in a cell with no relief, no comfort, no hope.
A guard appeared at the cell door, looking in with professional detachnt. "Chen. dical call. Get up."
Madam Chen tried to stand, but her body refused to cooperate. The guard sighed, clearly annoyed at having to deal with this, and opened the cell to help her to her feet. The movent sent white-hot agony through her broken hands, making her scream despite her attempts to stay quiet.
"Shut up," the guard said without heat, hauling her upright. "dical says you’ve got multiple fractures in both hands. They’ll splint them, give you so pain ds, and send you back. Consider yourself lucky, most prisoners don’t get dical attention this fast."
Lucky. The word was so absurd that Madam Chen might have laughed if she’d had the strength. Lucky to have her hands splinted after being forced to break them fighting her own husband. Lucky to get pain dication that would barely touch the agony radiating through her entire body. Lucky to be alive in this hell when death might have been preferable.
The guard led her down the corridor toward the dical wing, past other cells where won watched with varying degrees of sympathy or satisfaction. Word had spread about the ring fight, about the wealthy couple forced to beat each other while important people watched from comfort. So prisoners felt secondhand satisfaction at seeing the privileged brought low. Others felt pity for anyone subjected to the ring’s brutality, knowing from experience how thoroughly it destroyed not just the body but the spirit.
In the dical wing, a nurse with professionally detached efficiency examined Madam Chen’s hands, confird multiple fractures, and began the process of splinting them. The pain was excruciating despite the local anesthetic they injected, each manipulation of broken bones sending fresh waves of agony through her system.
"You’ll need these splints for at least six weeks," the nurse said flatly, wrapping the rigid supports around Madam Chen’s mangled fingers. "No using these hands at all during that ti. You’ll need help with everything, eating, washing, and dressing. Your cellmate will have to assist, or you can request a trustee to help with basic care."
Six weeks of complete helplessness, dependent on the rcy of people who had none. Six weeks of being unable to do even the most basic tasks for herself. And that was just for her hands to heal, the rest of her injuries, the bruises and possible fractures elsewhere, those would take their own ti.
When the splinting was finished and the nurse had administered a minimal dose of pain dication, just enough to take the edge off without providing actual relief, the guard escorted Madam Chen back to her cell. Her cellmate looked up from reading a contraband magazine, took in the splinted hands, and shook her head.
"You really pissed off soone powerful, didn’t you?" she observed. "Normal prisoners don’t get thrown in the ring their first week. That’s reserved for special cases, people who’ve made enemies in very high places."
Madam Chen said nothing, just crawled back onto her mattress and curled into herself as much as her injuries allowed.
anwhile, back in Lin Feng’s cell, the morning routine continued with brutal normalcy. Chen Wei had claid Lin Feng’s breakfast tray as his own, eating with obvious enjoynt while Lin Feng watched with hollow eyes.
"Four more days until your court hearing," Wang Jian remarked conversationally, as if discussing the weather. "They’ll bring you before the judge looking like that, beaten, broken, and terrified. Won’t help your case much. Judges tend to think that prisoners who’ve already been beaten down in holding must have done sothing to deserve it."
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