The people in "Seventh Prison" all had important relatives or friends to some extent. Every "visiting day," these loved ones would come to see them.
The inmates here all had futures.
Each year, many were released from this place to work exclusively for the nation. After all, they were rare high-intelligence talents whose mistakes hadn't caused particularly severe consequences.
However, the year Pei Chuan entered, he worked harder than anyone else, yet no one ever came to visit him.
Over the past year, through more than four hundred days and nights, every inmate's name had been called for visits—except Pei Chuan's.
Everyone seemed to tacitly assume this quiet young man had no family left. But today, someone actually came to visit him. And judging by Pei Chuan's reaction, this visitor must be very important?
Of course, "Seventh Prison" respected human rights—Pei Chuan could choose not to go.
"Former biologist" Cheng Zhenghai glanced at the young man's suddenly stiff expression and said, "Go see them. It's the New Year season, terribly cold outside, and our location is so remote. No matter who came, it couldn't have been easy."
Indeed, the snow this winter was exceptionally heavy. Sometimes water droplets on tree branches would freeze before they could even fall.
Pei Chuan went after all.
The prison guard came to push his wheelchair. After signing the agreement upon arrival here, Pei Chuan had stopped wearing his prosthetic leg. His daily work hours were long, and standing too long with the prosthesis would cause pain. Sitting down and bending the knee was also inconvenient, so the state eventually provided him with a wheelchair again.
In the small meeting room, a dim yellow light glowed.
Outside the skylight, white snowflakes swirled. Beneath the meeting room's light, she waited for him.
She had grown somewhat, her delicate features gentle and refined. Those always shimmering eyes held more tranquility now. Her long hair cascaded over her shoulders, and she wore a water-red down jacket.
Very festive, and very lovely. Just like in his dreams, yet different from those dreams.
Pei Chuan lowered his gaze, his pale fingers tightening on the wheelchair handles.
Bei Yao watched him quietly too.
She understood why he wouldn't meet her gaze. Pei Chuan had grown thinner, his youthful contours fading. The trials here had carved a man's resolute features into his face. He didn't resemble Pei Haobin much, appearing more refined than Uncle Pei.
But his hair had been cut short. Bei Yao had read prison-related materials—his hair must have been shaved initially, then grown out before being cut short again.
In his own eyes, this appearance must seem unsightly.
Her heart ached quietly at the sight.
Her young man, swallowing his pain alone, yet always thinking about her future.
If she hadn't come looking for him, perhaps things would have unfolded as he anticipated—no further intersection in this lifetime. She would have quietly finished university, married a good man, while he remained somewhere unknown, licking his wounds alone.
The door closed behind the prison guard. Visiting hours were strictly regulated.
It had been years since Bei Yao last saw him in a wheelchair. Pei Chuan was proud—ever since elementary school when he started wearing the prosthetic leg, he'd never used a wheelchair in front of others.
This year must have been the most difficult of his life.
His identity as the top science student in C City's college entrance exams had brought him attention, only for him to fall into obscurity the next moment. From beginning to end, through his entry into "Seventh Prison," he had remained calm and quiet. But now, he could maintain that composure no longer.
Bei Yao knelt before him.
Her almond-shaped eyes met his downcast gaze directly: "Pei Chuan."He responded in a low voice, "Mm." His long-dormant heartbeat finally stirred as he gazed at the young woman's delicate features and softly asked, "Why did you come?"
This place was bitterly cold. In summer, it was tolerable—even refreshing. But in winter, even indoors, a chilling dampness permeated the air.
The thought of her braving the wind and snow, going through who knows how much trouble to get here, made his throat tighten with emotion.
Bei Yao's eyes grew moist. "Because I missed you."
He clenched his jaw, biting down hard on the inside of his cheek, and after a long pause murmured, "Yao Yao, don’t say things like that anymore."
If it were before, he could have mustered the courage to be good to her even if it meant earning the disdain of Aunt Zhao and Uncle Bei. But now, trapped in the Seventh Prison, he didn’t even have the right to hear such words from her.
Since she had grown up, she ought to understand how harsh and conventional the world could be. Society would never accept her loving someone like him, and her parents wouldn’t either.
Why was it that as she grew more beautiful and experienced more of the world, she still failed to grasp these realities?
Her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, on the verge of weeping.
He yearned to reach out and touch those tear-filled almond-shaped eyes, but Pei Chuan also knew that a year had passed. She was in university now and must have encountered many interesting and exciting things. According to Attorney Zhen, she was still the campus belle—a girl so lovely and kind-hearted would be popular wherever she went.
Bei Yao would no longer be confined by the moon of her hometown. As her horizons broadened, she would no longer cling to the innocent curiosity of adolescent romance, for many outstanding people would pursue her, wanting to be with her.
She should realize how unworthy it was to have been with someone like him in her youth.
Bei Yao said, "Why can’t I say such things? I miss you, so very much. Sometimes when I wake up, it feels like I’m still studying at Sixth High. You were at a school not far away, so close to me."
She continued, "You always said that when I grew up, I’d understand what love is and what curiosity is. I’m an adult now, and I know the meaning of every word I say. Pei Chuan, I love you."
His Adam’s apple bobbed, and his fingers trembled slightly. "Stop talking."
But she pressed on, "I love you so much—it’s not out of pity or sympathy."
As if afraid, his voice turned cold, yet the words spilled out rapidly, "Wake up! Look where we are! It’s snowing outside, and everyone is celebrating the New Year, but here there are only four walls and a bunch of criminals who’ve committed murder and arson! I’m not from some wealthy, prestigious family. I have no status or reputation. All my assets have been confiscated. I have no honor, no money, no future—I have nothing!"
She sniffled twice, her clear eyes still reflecting only him.
In her gaze, he saw a cold, young man with cropped hair, dressed in prison uniform.
He closed his eyes, knowing he could never bring himself to yell at her. His fingers gripped the wheelchair tightly. "Go back. Don’t come again, and don’t say you love me, or else…"
She suddenly threw herself into his arms.
This February was exceptionally cold. She carried the chill of the wind and rain from outside, while his embrace felt like a furnace, burning with a man’s love and agony.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, her voice slightly nasal, she murmured, "But I just love you."
Like an unreasonable child.
"Just love you, only you."
Her small hands were icy, her hair slightly damp. She didn’t need reason; there was nothing more to say. Her simplicity and passion set his heart ablaze.
Unable to resist, he encircled her waist, his suppressed emotions crumbling completely.Bei Yao suddenly recalled Qin Dongni's words from that night—some things could be suppressed, but love could never be concealed.
The man was clearly trembling. He always claimed she wasn't thinking clearly, yet in the end, he held her tight. Her tears turned to laughter as she rested her chin on his shoulder. "Pei Chuan, you said girls shouldn't be bullied. I told you I missed you, so you have to say you missed me too."
His heart felt as though it had been scorched by fire, then dipped in honey. The metallic taste of blood from biting back his emotions lingered in his mouth.
"I..." He closed his eyes briefly, his voice hoarse. "I missed you, Yaoyao."
So much it drove him mad.
During his first days inside, he worked relentlessly every day, but nights were endless sleepless struggles. Some people's worlds were vast and boundless, while others' were small enough to hold just one person.
Countless times, Pei Chuan thought how much better it would have been if she had never entered his life. Unattached and free, he could have died in any forgotten corner, his bones rotting into unrecognizable remains—at least then his heart would have been free of longing.
But she came—a teenage girl, innocent and naive, yet burning like wildfire, leaving him utterly helpless about what to do with her.
And yet, he knew deep down how grateful he was that she had crossed his path.
All the colors in his life were painted by her; all the bitterness and sweetness were gifts from her.
She said, "Pei Chuan, look, I never lost you again."
That night, she tied a helium balloon to the young man's wrist, promising she would never lose him in this lifetime. "And you're not allowed to make me cry anymore, okay? Come on, wipe my tears."
Her lips curved upward, but the tears in her almond-shaped eyes threatened to fall.
His dark eyes fixed on her as he cupped her face, his rough thumb gently wiping the tears from the corner of her eye. She blinked, her long lashes brushing against his fingertips, stirring a shy, sweet ache.
He kept breaking his own rules and plans, step by step, yielding again and again for her. Bitter yet sweet, impossible to let go.
Bei Yao had so many questions she wanted to ask—whether he was tired, whether he was in pain. But the man before her would never complain or dwell on the past.
She also wanted to ask if it was because of her that he had ultimately chosen this harder, more painful path. But the words died on her lips.
He was so sensitive; she couldn't let him misunderstand that her love was born out of guilt.
Nothing was more joyful than the future ahead.
Perhaps it was the vigor of youth, but his embrace was warm, his body solid, and she soon felt cozy. Visiting hours were nearly over. Softly, she said, "Pei Chuan, Happy New Year."
The girl rummaged in her pocket, pulling out a bank card and some cash, stuffing them all into his hands. "I heard you can buy things in here. Pei Chuan, if you're cold or hungry, ask someone to buy things for you, okay?"
He held the bank card and cash, staring at this foolish girl.
There was still so much he hadn't taught her—a good man never spends his woman's money. But she was so naive; if someone deceived her, how pitiful she would be.
Pei Chuan placed everything back into her pocket and ruffled her hair. "We don't need these here. Did you sell the diamond?"
She shook her head.
Pei Chuan said, "Sell it and buy a new apartment in the city center." Fortunately, diamonds and gold never depreciated.
"I won't sell it," she said. "I'm saving it for your ring someday."He looked at her in disbelief.
She lowered her gaze, her eyelashes like two small fans: "Pei Chuan, you must take good care of yourself here. Everyone makes mistakes in their lifetime. Making mistakes is shameful, but correcting and making amends is not. We should face our mistakes and make up for them, but we can't see them as a lifelong stain that can never be washed away. Look forward, okay?"
She said, "Pei Chuan, don't look down on yourself."
His throat was so dry it ached, and he couldn't utter a single word. This girl, soft and gentle, left him utterly helpless.
After a long pause, he said, "Mm."
She smiled, gently stroking his cheek, her voice tender: "How many more years, Pei Chuan?"
He whispered, "Eight years."
There was no disappointment in her eyes; instead, she smiled and said, "Then I'll ask the prison guard uncle when the next visitation is, and I'll come see you again then, okay?"
"Mm."
As she followed the prison guard away, the swirling snow had eased considerably. The sky was growing dim, and the bicycle was already covered in a thick layer of snow.
She brushed off the snow, sat down, wrapped her scarf around her again, and her petite figure disappeared into the snowy landscape.
Such a delicate frame, yet possessing such resilient and fervent strength.
It was rare to see this usually cold young man so moved, but whenever this girl came, Pei Chuan would completely yield to her.
The prison guard shook his head with a smile and asked Pei Chuan, "Why are you lying to her?"
Where were there eight years left? The "Seventh Prison" was unlike any other prison; it was more like a cradle for talent rehabilitation. Pei Chuan had performed exceptionally well. He had turned himself in initially, and since no serious consequences had occurred at the time—not only that, but he had also played a key role in dismantling that organization—he had mitigating circumstances.
On paper, Pei Chuan had been sentenced to eight years, but after being sent to the "Seventh Prison," the agreement he received was for four years.
He would work for the state for four years, maintain proper conduct and ethics, continue his education, and regularly see a psychologist. Once each person's agreement period ended, they would emerge as official state employees.
Young people like Pei Chuan had a future. He was originally a top student who had strayed due to a difficult upbringing. The state would give such individuals another chance.
Pei Chuan had already "served" for over a year, and with just over two years left, he would be released.
Pei Chuan didn't answer the prison guard's question.
He was simply giving her a chance to reconsider and leaving room for her future.
Pei Chuan returned to have the reunion dinner with his "cellmates."
He changed his chopsticks, picked up his bowl. This group of "cellmates" had no conscience—they had already taken all the meat, leaving behind only broth and scraps. He ate his plain rice with the broth, his expression unchanged.
The "former biologist" Cheng Zhenghai said with a laugh, "Pei Chuan, you're in a good mood?"
Pei Chuan remained silent, his face stern. He was the youngest here, and though everyone around him was sharp-witted, Pei Chuan's mind was just as keen.
The "Seventh Prison" was filled with people with promising futures, so the atmosphere had always been quite harmonious. Who knew—they might even become colleagues someday.
Seeing Pei Chuan's aloof demeanor, someone started laughing, and soon others joined in.
Cheng Zhenghai slapped his thigh, laughing heartily: "Pei Chuan, if you're happy, just laugh! Why force yourself to eat with a straight face?"Pei Chuan paused his chopsticks and glanced at the group before him.
Someone couldn’t hold back any longer: "Pei Chuan, that mark on your neck—it’s from your little sweetheart’s lipstick, isn’t it? Oh, you must be over the moon inside! It’s impressive you can still sit here so calmly and eat."
"Truly impressive."
Pei Chuan set down his bowl, reached toward the spot where the girl had been fussing earlier, and saw a faint trace of lipstick on his fingertip. He had no idea when she had rubbed it there.
It seemed to carry the faint, icy fragrance of a young girl.
Pei Chuan finally smiled and said to the teasing crowd, "Get lost."
Everyone burst into laughter.
This winter really wasn’t that cold.
When Pei Chuan first arrived, he worked harder than any of the old-timers here. As time passed, word got around that Pei Chuan wanted to become a scientist someday.
Few who left this place ever became scientists, yet he toiled day and night with relentless determination.
No one understood the reason for his stubborn persistence—until today, a year later, when someone came to visit him. Only then did they realize that some people’s faith and love never fade, no matter how long or how hard the journey, and they never forget.
He remembered the first time they went to see an airplane, and Bei Yao spoke of scientists as if they were great heroes, her eyes filled with love and hope for the world.
~
Bei Yao found him and breathed a sigh of relief in her heart.
What people fear most is losing hope. The next "visiting day" would be in April of next year, when spring had already arrived.
Naturally, Bei Yao couldn’t return to C City for the New Year.
She no longer had to rush back and forth to the law school and could focus wholeheartedly on her own major.
By the end of the February break, her classmates had returned one after another.
The first to arrive at the dorm was Qin Dongni, a local of B City. Thinking she was the earliest, Qin Dongni was surprised to see Bei Yao returning from the library and exclaimed, "Yao Yao, you’re here so early?"
Bei Yao smiled and nodded.
The year was 2010, and Bei Yao’s medical program was a five-year course. Qin Dongni noticed the thick stack of books in her arms and leaned in for a closer look. "What are all these books? Huh? Nursing and massage? Yao Yao, we don’t study this. Why are you reading them?"
Bei Yao neatly arranged the books and smiled without answering. Although she didn’t mind Pei Chuan’s physical condition, she didn’t like casually discussing things he was sensitive about.
Fortunately, Qin Dongni had only asked in passing and soon launched into stories about her New Year adventures.
The next day was the final deadline for the start of the semester, and Wang Qiankun and Shan Xiaomai also arrived.
Shan Xiaomai had brought local specialties from her hometown for her roommates. Timid and looking as young as a minor, she had terrified Wang Qiankun by hauling such a large bag up five flights of stairs.
Back in their freshman year, there had been one opportunity to change majors, and Shan Xiaomai had desperately wanted to switch.
Among the four roommates, only she would faint and scream during anatomy class or burst into tears at the sight of bodies preserved in formaldehyde. Qin Dongni remained unfazed, Bei Yao could endure it, and Wang Qiankun—well, there was no need to explain her case; she had chosen this field out of passion.
But Shan Xiaomai’s mother hadn’t allowed her to switch majors, so she stayed.
Wang Qiankun effortlessly lifted Shan Xiaomai’s belongings and put them away. "Xiao Mai, why did your mom insist on you studying medicine?"
Shan Xiaomai lowered her head. "My younger brother isn’t well."
It was a condition from birth—congenital frailty.As soon as Shan Xiaomai spoke, the group exchanged glances and stopped asking further. Many families of origin harbor pains too shameful to mention. Shan Xiaomai’s family was one that valued sons over daughters.
Wang Qiankun casually slung an arm over Shan Xiaomai’s shoulder: “Come on, Mai, let me show you some local specialties from our hometown.”
Family pains affect children deeply. Compared to Qin Dongni, Shan Xiaomai was much more insecure. She always felt that outstanding boys would look down on her, and she usually remained quiet and withdrawn.
Bei Yao gazed at the massage therapy book on her right. He always said that as one grows older, their perspective broadens, they understand human nature better, and then they realize he isn’t worthy of love.
Yet how grateful she felt—the more she grew up, the more she could comprehend and empathize with him.
She loved his gentleness, his aloof pride, and gradually came to understand his unspoken sensitivity and insecurities.
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