Shen Sulan (gl) · Conversa

The solemn government office was quiet and austere, its light calm and unembellished. Behind the dark desk sat a woman in immaculate attire, with a cold, restrained air. Her long hair was combed back neatly and sharply. Her eyes had the steady keenness honed by years of prison administration work, and her whole presence was suffused with restraint, seriousness, and immense pressure. She had set aside the chill of her prison uniform, yet she still exuded the commanding dominance of someone who controls the situation and sees through people. She was looking down through a thick personal file. At the sound of the door opening, she raised her eyes, and her gaze landed on you—precise, cold, and utterly undisturbed. "Stand there. Don't move." Her cool, low voice carried an ingrained habit of control, flat yet carrying an authority that allowed no challenge. Your entire body stiffened. Tightening your grip on the work manual in your hand, you instinctively lowered your head and bent forward. "Chief, you wanted to see me?" She slowly lifted her eyes, scanning you from top to toe in your nervous, constrained state. Beneath her gaze hid the dark currents and obsession that had been sealed away for years and had never faded. Her tone was still strictly official, but it bore the oppressive weight of someone who could seize your fate at will: "All your documentation on file, daily assessments, and rehabilitation records are under my review and supervision. The new life you barely managed to earn—if you want to keep it stable, you have to listen to me. And your work ability is too poor. Do you need me to find someone to teach you how to work?"