Block X

Lin Feng never believed that the world was fair.

This isn't a lament or a complaint; it's simply an objective statement. From the day he became aware of things, he clearly understood a fact: fairness is a fairy tale used by the weak to comfort themselves, while the strong never talk about fairness, only about rules.

Classes exist everywhere.

In schools, there are classes—good students and bad students, students from wealthy families and students from poor families, popular students and isolated students. In the workplace, there are classes—decision-makers and implementers, inner circle members and marginal figures. In society, there are classes—rich students and poor students, powerful students and powerless students, rule-makers and rule-followers.

The United States is no exception; in fact, it's even more blatant.

Those who shout "equality for all" are often the least deserving of equality. Those who truly stand at the top of the pyramid never need to talk about "equality" because they already have more choices than others.

The same applies in prison.

Most people's image of prison comes from movies and TV series—dark and damp cells, cold iron bars, brutal prison guards, and endless violence. Those images aren't entirely fake, but they only represent one side of prison, a side shown to ordinary prisoners.

For another group of people, however, prison can be something completely different.

After Lin Feng was taken away from Block C, two prison guards led him through a series of iron gates that required authorization to open, past three security checkpoints, and through an underground passage about two hundred meters long.

Every few steps along the walls on both sides of the passageway, there is a dim emergency light; the cement floor underfoot is smooth and mottled from the wear and tear of time; and the ventilation ducts overhead emit a low hum.

At the end of the passage was a heavy metal door, unmarked and without any number or label, bearing only a fingerprint scanner and a keypad. One of the prison guards stepped forward, placed his thumb on the scanner, and entered a twelve-digit password. A click sounded from inside the metal door as it unlocked, and then it slowly slid open to one side.

Behind the door lies another world.

The moment Lin Feng stepped across the threshold, he even felt a momentary sense of disorientation—had he gone to the wrong place?

The space here is about the same size as Block C, around 400-500 square meters, but the ceiling is much higher than in the regular areas, at least 4-5 meters high, completely lacking the low and oppressive feeling of a typical prison. The overhead lighting is soft and warm, not the stark white fluorescent tubes, but LED lights embedded in the ceiling, with the color temperature adjusted just right, creating an atmosphere close to that of a high-end hotel lobby.

But what truly surprised Lin Feng was the number of cells here.

In such a vast space, there were only about twenty prison cells.

They are arranged on both sides of the corridor, and the distance between each cell is much wider than in a normal prison area, like a detached villa in an upscale residential area, rather than a densely packed pigeonhole-like cubicle.

Each door is made of solid wood, with a matte dark brown finish, and brass handles that gleam warmly under the light. If it weren't for the unassuming electronic lock and numbered nameplate on each door, you would hardly believe that these are prison cell doors.

"Mr. Lin, this way please."

The prison guard who had led the way had completely changed his demeanor. In Block C, he had been expressionless, businesslike, and treated no differently than any other ordinary prisoner. But now, he wore a perfectly measured smile—not an exaggerated fawning, but a cautious, respectful politeness, like a five-star hotel butler welcoming an important guest.

He turned slightly to the side, extended his hand, and guided Lin Feng deeper into the corridor. "Your room is number 7, it's this way."

Lin Feng followed behind him, his gaze calmly sweeping over the surroundings. The corridor floor was covered with dark composite wood flooring, which had a comfortable springiness underfoot, unlike the cold, hard cement floor of a typical prison.

Several decorative paintings hung on the wall—not the kind of cheap, mass-produced reproductions, but oil paintings that looked to be some years old. Although Lin Feng couldn't recall the artists' names, judging from the brushstrokes and colors, they shouldn't have been cheap finds.

They stopped in front of cell number 7.

The prison guard took out a black access card from his waist, gently tapped it against the card reader by the door, and a soft "beep" sounded. He gripped the brass doorknob, pressed down, and pushed the door open.

Then he stepped aside, making way for the doorway, and gestured for us to enter.

Lin Feng went inside.

Even he was slightly taken aback when he saw the interior of the room.

The interior of this cell was surprisingly similar to the presidential suite of the five-star hotel he had previously stayed in at the Hilton.

The room is approximately 60 square meters in size and is divided into a living area and a sleeping area.

The floor was covered with a light gray long-pile carpet, which was soft and thick underfoot, almost sinking your entire instep into it.

The walls were painted a warm off-white, not the cheap kind of latex paint, but an artistic paint with a delicate texture, which presented a rich and layered texture under the light.

The living area features a set of light gray fabric sofas, in front of which sits a solid wood coffee table with a white porcelain tea set and a potted plant.

Opposite the sofa is a wall of built-in bookshelves, filled with all kinds of books—literature, history, economics, philosophy, in both Chinese and English. They don't look like they were just randomly placed to fill space, but rather carefully selected.

A floorstanding speaker stood in the corner, a Denmark brand. Lin Feng remembered the model; its market price was around fifty thousand US dollars. Next to it was a record player, its body a vintage walnut color, the metal parts gleaming with a polished sheen.

The sleeping area features a two-meter-wide bed covered with a snow-white down comforter and fluffy, soft pillows—a setup that seems even more sophisticated than most five-star hotels. A designer lamp with a brass base sits on the bedside table, its soft light perfect for reading before sleep.

In addition, there was a separate bathroom in the room. Lin Feng went over to take a look—it was a wet and dry area, the shower was equipped with a rain shower, and the sink had a full set of toiletries, including a bottle of Hermès shower gel.

Yes, Hermès.

In prison.

Lin Feng stood at the bathroom door, staring at the orange-green shower gel bottle. He remained silent for two seconds, then chuckled softly.

The prison guard, standing behind him, waited until he had looked over the basic layout of the room before stepping forward and beginning his "introduction service" in a warm yet tactful tone.

"Mr. Lin, let me give you a brief introduction to the facilities in the room." He pointed to the wall opposite the sofa, "There's a 75-inch Samsung HD TV there, which can receive major satellite TV channels from around the world, as well as streaming services like Netflix and HBO Max. The remote control is in the drawer under the coffee table; just call me if you can't find it."

He walked to the corner and patted the floorstanding speaker. "This speaker system is the Bang & Olufsen Beolab 50 from Denmark. The sound quality is excellent, and it connects via Bluetooth and AUX, so you can choose whichever you prefer. The turntable next to it is a Linn Sondek LP12 from the United Kingdom. There are some classic vinyl records on the lower two shelves. If there are any records you'd like to listen to, just let us know, and we can help you purchase them."

He then walked to the desk and opened a drawer. "There's a high-speed fiber optic network here, and the Wi-Fi password is pasted on the monitor bezel."

This computer is Apple Mac Studio, equipped with a Pro Display XDR monitor, and the network speed is probably in the gigabit range, so downloading, video calls, and gaming are all without any problems.

Of course, if you're not used to Apple's system, we can switch you to Windows.

He straightened up, turned around, and with that professional, ingratiating smile on his face, continued:

"In addition, you can tell us in advance what you would like to eat each day. This area has more than a dozen professional chefs who can cook Chinese, Western, Japanese, and Southeast Asia cuisines. For Chinese food, we have chefs who specialize in Sichuan, Shandong, Cantonese, and Huaiyang cuisines. If you want hot pot, we can also arrange that."

He paused, then added, "If you have any special requests, we can also help you order food from outside restaurants. Most of the better restaurants in downtown Seattle can deliver. Or, if you want to eat the cooking of a particular chef, we can bring the chef in and have them prepare it for you in the prison's private kitchen."

He spoke as if he were describing the dining services of a top resort, completely unaware of how absurd it sounded coming from a prison guard.

Lin Feng sat down on the sofa, tested its comfort, then leaned back and looked at the prison guard. "Anything else?"

A slightly knowing smile appeared on the prison guard's face. He lowered his voice, his tone implying "you know what I mean," and said, "Also, if you have any other needs, you can let us know."

He paused, as if choosing his words carefully, then continued, "Whether it's black, white, plump, long-legged... male or female, we can arrange it for you. Of course, all of this requires advance booking, since the entry and exit procedures are quite strict, but as long as you tell us a day in advance, it can basically be arranged."

After saying this, he bowed slightly, clasped his hands in front of him, and waited for Lin Feng's response.

Lin Feng did not answer immediately.

He leaned back on the sofa, his gaze sweeping over every piece of furniture, every decoration, and every ray of light in the room. Everything here was perfectly designed—comfortable, exquisite, and thoughtful, even better than most people's homes outside.

But ultimately, this is still a prison cell.

It's just a prison cell prepared for special groups of people.

In the United States. prison system, these areas are often referred to as "luxury prisons" or "VIP cells," specifically designed to house special inmates with status, wealth, and connections—white-collar criminals, corrupt politicians, financial fraudsters, and important figures requiring "special protection." If you can afford the price, you can enjoy a lifestyle comparable to a five-star hotel in prison.

Money can buy many things.

Including comfort in prison.

Lin Feng could certainly afford the price. Moreover, for him, this place was even safer than outside.

Although he had the protection of mercenaries and multiple intelligence teams outside, the United States was not his territory after all. Those forces lurking in the shadows had too many ways to deal with him—car accidents, shootings, poisoning, or even a missile falling from the sky. He had to keep to himself and minimize unnecessary travel, and every time he went out, he had to go through meticulous security arrangements.

But here, it's different.

The warden, the highest authority in the prison, is his henchman. The entire management and security team of Block X are personally selected and arranged by the warden. In other words, for him, this prison is a fortress, not a cage.

Those who want to get rid of him, even if they have connections to the highest levels, will find it very difficult to infiltrate these layers of security measures. And assassinating a prisoner inside the prison is far more difficult than assassinating a free man outside—because all the people coming in and out, all the supplies, and all the communications are under the control of the prison administration.

Moreover, they never imagined that he would voluntarily choose to go to prison.

In their minds, how could a normal person voluntarily give up their freedom and lock themselves in a cell? They would only think that he was forced into it or that he was being suppressed by the judicial system, and they would never think that this was a move he had deliberately made.

As Lin Feng thought of this, a barely perceptible smile appeared on his lips.

He looked up at the prison guard who was still waiting for his reply and said calmly, "Not for now. I'll let you know if I need to."

The prison guard immediately nodded. "Okay, Mr. Lin. Please rest first. If you need anything, just press the call button by your bed. We have someone on duty 24 hours a day."

He bowed slightly again, then took two steps back, turned and walked out of the room, gently closing the door behind him.

The door lock clicked softly and locked itself.

The room fell silent.

Lin Feng stood up and walked to the floor-to-ceiling window—yes, this cell even had a floor-to-ceiling window. Although the view outside the window was a closed courtyard inside the prison, at least you could see the sky and trees, instead of a bare wall.

He stood by the window, gazing at the Old Oak swaying gently in the night breeze in the courtyard, and remained silent for a long time.

The conditions here have indeed exceeded expectations.

But he knew very well that he wasn't here to enjoy himself.

He came here to play chess.

Those outside were unaware that the chessboard had been switched.