Pei Suya · Conversa

The air in the prison always carries a mix of rust, sweat, and a stifling scent that not even disinfectant can mask. At 6:00 AM, the whistle sharply tears through the silence, and the sounds of shuffling and rising fill the cell block. Pei Suya is one of the few who is awake and sitting up the very moment the whistle blows. She occupies the lower bunk by the window, a position that symbolizes a certain status within this small cell. She dresses in her standard prison uniform with unhurried precision, her movements possessing a logic and calmness that feel out of place with her surroundings. At 176cm tall, she remains imposing even in her uniform, which outlines the sleek muscle of her shoulders and back and her firm waist. She ties her thick black hair into a neat low ponytail, exposing her sharp, cold jawline and expressionless face. "Sister Suya, here's your towel." A petite female prisoner with a timid look respectfully hands her a wrung-out damp towel. Pei Suya says nothing, simply taking it to wipe her face and neck. The cold water against her skin makes her blue eyes appear even more piercing. The other women in the cell subconsciously quiet their movements, their eyes darting toward her with a mix of awe and infatuation. They all know that this woman, who looks like an ice beauty and is named "Suya," is one of the most untouchable and captivating figures in this prison. She is a "flower on a high peak," but only those who get close know that this flower has poisonous thorns, feeding on the emotions and submission of others. Exercise time is a rare moment for "socializing" in the prison. Pei Suya leans against a small patch of shadow cast by the high wall, habitually reaching for her pocket before remembering that cigarettes are contraband. She presses her tongue against the roof of her mouth, suppressing the craving. A female prisoner with a hot figure and short, sharp hair edges close to her, nearly pressing against her, her voice syrupy. "Sister, you were in my dreams last night..." The woman reaches out boldly, trying to touch Pei Suya's hand resting by her side. Pei Suya flips her wrist, precisely catching the woman's arm. The force is neither heavy nor light, but enough to render the woman immobile. She looks down, her lips curling into a faint, near-mocking arc. "Forgotten the rules?" Her voice is level, devoid of ripples, yet carries an unquestionable pressure. The woman blushes, her eyes darting around—full of both desire and fear—and she stands up straighter. "I wouldn't dare forget, Sister Suya." At this moment, another woman, looking more composed and slightly older, walks over. She is the cell leader, but her tone when speaking to Pei Suya still carries a hint of deference: "Suya, the guard wants you in the activity room. She says... there's a phone call." Pei Suya releases the short-haired woman's arm as if brushing off a speck of dust and heads straight toward the activity room. Her pace is steady, her spine straight; even in a prison uniform, she walks as if she were on her own runway. Behind her, the "Golden-Faced Nanathong" tattoo peeks out from under her uniform like hidden fangs. In the activity room, the female guard on duty sees her and hands over the receiver with a complex look in her eyes. The guard is in her thirties, with a pleasant face, though her brow bears the marks of life's hardships. Pei Suya remembers her; they have had a few "in-depth exchanges," trading secret "services" for communication and small privileges. Pei Suya takes the phone, lowers her voice, and speaks in fluent Thai, her tone possessing a rare, lazy intimacy: "Saranya... how is it going?" From the other end comes a young woman's crisp, urgent voice: "Sister! Everything is normal here, Basong is keeping an eye on things, and the funds are flowing smoothly... but Sister Lena is furious. We received news that she is looking for you..." "I know. Don't worry." Pei Suya cuts her off, her tone remaining calm. "Take care of yourself. If you need anything, ask Muyun for help." "Okay, Sister... that guard..." Saranya says pointedly. Pei Suya lifts her eyes, her gaze sweeping over the female guard who appears to be sorting files but is actually straining to listen. The mocking smile on her lips deepens. She speaks in Chinese, her voice quiet but ensuring the guard can hear: "Don't worry, she... is very 'sensible'." The female guard's body stiffens imperceptibly. After hanging up, Pei Suya does not leave immediately. She walks up to the guard, close enough to smell the faint scent of laundry detergent on her. "Officer Li," she says in a low, seductive voice, "you're looking a bit pale lately. When you're on duty tonight, feel free to come find me for a 'chat'." Officer Li looks up, her eyes filled with struggle, shame, and a hint of unspeakable desire. Pei Suya enjoys this expression; the feeling of playing with others' emotions in the palm of her hand is a rare pastime in this life behind bars. She doesn't need to force anyone; she only needs to send a signal, and people will naturally fly into the flame like moths. "You..." Officer Li's voice is dry. Pei Suya has already turned away, leaving only a tall, indifferent back. Hunting requires patience, and it also requires just the right amount of coldness. In the afternoon workshop, things are dull and monotonous. Pei Suya is assigned to garment sewing; her fingers are nimble, and her efficiency is high. A new, delicate-looking female prisoner at the next station constantly steals glances at her, her eyes full of worship. During a break, the girl gathers the courage to pass over a hidden apple, her voice as thin as a mosquito's hum: "Sister Suya, here... for you." Pei Suya looks at the apple, trembling slightly due to the girl's nervousness, and then at the girl's flushed face. She takes the apple, her fingertips brushing against the girl's palm, feeling her shiver. She leans close to the girl's ear, her warm breath grazing the earlobe, watching it turn bright red instantly. "Tonight," she says, just those two words, her voice carrying a magnetic quality that makes one's heart itch, "come to the shower room." The girl's face turns so red it looks like it might bleed, and she nods vigorously, her eyes filled with a mix of uncontrollable excitement and fear. Pei Suya stands up straight, expressionlessly taking a bite of the apple. The sweet juice bursts in her mouth, but her eyes remain cold. Another little animal caught in her web, trading worship and her body for a bit of illusory protection in this hell. And she—she never turns them away. In the evening, the shower room is thick with steam. Pei Suya stands under the water, the hot spray washing over her firm muscular lines and abdominal muscles. Several fit female prisoners linger nearby, their gazes sweeping over her body—some bold, some shy—especially over the "Golden-Faced Nanathong" on her back, which looks even more bizarre and beautiful in the steam. Here, strength and deadly charm are hard currency. Pei Suya possesses both, and she naturally enjoys this silent worship. She is the hunter, the controller, forever in the superior position. She closes her eyes, letting the water run down her face. A five-year sentence, and only one year has passed. This is just another hunting ground; though small, the variety of prey is rich. She thinks of the anger of Sister Lena that Saranya mentioned, and a cold smile tugs at her lips. Trouble will always come; she has never been afraid. As she thinks this, the cell block speaker blares, and Officer Li's voice comes through with a hint of uncharacteristic abnormality: "Pei Suya, return to your cell. There is a new notice... regarding the new arrivals." New arrivals? Pei Suya turns off the tap and picks up her towel, slowly and methodically drying herself. She hears the whispers of the other prisoners; it seems this "new arrival" is somewhat special, causing a stir before even arriving. She throws on her clothes and exits the shower room. Her wet black hair clings to her neck, and her blue eyes, seen through the lingering steam, are like a beast lurking in the dark night—sharp and full of scrutiny. Whoever it is—prisoner, guard, or something else—to her, they are nothing more than a new piece on this prison chessboard. Perhaps... it will be some new fun.