Chapter 40 White Hole Prison (17)

Chapter 40: White Hole Prison (Seventeen)

From the beginning to the end of the party, Shi Wu never saw a trace of Bao Yan.

At first, he could hold himself back, but as time passed, the words of the broken-browed Guard Captain looped in his head more and more.

Could he really trust Bao Yan?

Before he could think too much, the broadcast suddenly crackled to life—announcing where 'Education' was next.

19:00—Education.

Shi Wu blinked. Education? It sounded like some kind of comprehensive training class the prison had cooked up for all-around development. He even subconsciously imagined a uniformed teacher standing on a podium, holding forth to a group of inmates in prison uniforms—some even older than him—as "students."

But when he finally stood before the area, he was utterly dumbfounded.

"..."

This was Education?

Before him was a three-meter-tall metal sliding door, now open. But what he saw wasn't a cage or a classroom—it was a typical large library.

The central hall was spacious and serene. Warm white pendant lights hung from the ceiling, filling the space with a soft, layered glow. There was even the faint, sweet smell of old paper in the air.

Looking further in, he discovered it was a five-story circular structure.

At the center was a towering spiral staircase, winding upward from the ground like a hollow, silver-gray dragon. Surrounding it were row upon row of metal bookshelves, each crammed with various paper books, reaching from floor to ceiling.

Shi Wu stepped inside, took it all in, and couldn't help but raise an eyebrow.

He found the organization of these shelves to be surprisingly professional—

"Modern Politics," "General Biology," "Philosophy and Psychology," "Physiological Structure Research," "Literature · Fantasy · Drama"... and even sections like "Advanced Mathematics Workbooks" that stuck out like a sore thumb. The entire area was a dazzling, well-organized array.

Moreover, seemingly for the inmates' convenience, each level had reading desks, swing-arm lamps, and padded wooden chairs set up beside the bookshelves. Many inmates were already seated, poring over books or scribbling away, looking utterly absorbed.

"This prison is quite 'humane' in this aspect."

He'd seen plenty of prisons shoving cultural courses down inmates' throats, but an actual five-story library plus study hall like "White Hole" was a first for him.

However, such a place appearing in a dungeon felt particularly off.

The surroundings were nearly silent. Shi Wu slowly ascended the spiral staircase, observing the "readers" around him as he went.

Some inmates leaned against shelves flipping through books, others sat at reading desks scribbling like mad, as if drinking in knowledge.

But the more he looked, the deeper Shi Wu's frown became.

Something was wrong.

The standing inmates had their eyes fixed on the pages, but their gaze was vacant, unfocused.

Even more absurd were those sitting at the desks.

They lowered their heads, doodling and scribbling, turning pages from time to time, putting on an even more earnest show.

But when Shi Wu got closer, he realized what those people were writing was nothing but the same phrase, over and over—

"I love knowledge, I love knowledge, I love..."

Page after page, the handwriting grew increasingly sloppy until only the character for "I" remained, gouged into the paper by pen pressure, leaving deep indentations.

They were putting on quite a convincing act.

Shi Wu followed the staircase to the top-floor corridor, gripped the railing, and looked down at the entire library.

Five full floors, countless bookshelves, seats, inmates, soft lighting, perfect order.

Everything looked so peaceful and beautiful.

As if this wasn't a prison, but a utopia sanitized by civilization.

The top floor of the library was still and chill compared to the levels below.

There were no seats here, the books were noticeably thinner, and there were hardly any inmates.

Rows of empty bookshelves stood there, light from the ceiling casting pool after pool of shadow.

He walked through the dimly lit aisles, his fingertips occasionally brushing against book spines.

If an area had only one library, it was a good bet it held some local histories.

That was precisely what Shi Wu had come for.

Suddenly, he stopped before a bookshelf, his gaze lowering.

"Tsk, it's you."

It wasn't that this shelf was special in any way. On the contrary, it didn't stand out at all on the entire fifth floor, even the dust on the book spines was perfectly ordinary.

However, Shi Wu glanced around. Although inmates on the top floor were very few, they all liked to "put on a show."

No matter where they were, they would stay for a fixed period, pick up a book—if they were actually reading was anyone's guess—but they picked it up. So, over time, books that were frequently picked up should have little dust adhering to them.

And books occasionally picked up should have faint, uneven, finger-like marks on them.

But this book...

Shi Wu slid out the utterly unremarkable brown book.

A thin layer of dust, no signs of having been read. Perhaps someone had read it once, then carefully dusted it again and slid it back into place.

The book's pages were slightly yellowed, the paper somewhat thick, with the look of an old, typeset book.

Opening the first page revealed bold, blocky print:

"White Hole Island · Complete Territorial Record"

Publication Date: 1997 · Special Edition Revised Version

First paragraph of the main text:

"White Hole Island is located 'above the border oceanic trench of the Central Continent Sea,' with geographical coordinates corrected multiple times, belonging to a shifting maritime zone with unstable coordinates, designated by the government as a highly independent governance zone. Due to frequent crustal activity and intense magnetic field disturbances, it has long not been fully incorporated into standard map coordinates."

Further down:

"White Hole Prison was built in the center of the island, initially established by the 'Former Ruling Body' in the late 19th century, specifically for serious offenders. It later underwent comprehensive 'humane' reforms and gradually transformed into a model base for dual mental and behavioral rehabilitation."

"Due to special maritime barriers and management methods, the island never admits new civilians from the outside. All inmates are specially reviewed and allocated by the government before being transferred."

Shi Wu's gaze halted.

"A model facility for humane rehabilitation"?

That didn't sound like the brainwashing hellhole this place was now.

He turned the page. Among the dense text, a section was highlighted with an old paper tab:

"The island prison was established in 1697 by the former Executive Committee member, the island's chief designer, and the first Warden, Harold Fiman."

"Warden Fiman was a highly forward-thinking official of his time. For a detailed record of his life and main achievements, see page 135."

"Harold Fiman."

Shi Wu's finger stilled, his eyes narrowing slightly.

He didn't recall hearing this name before.

Shi Wu continued flipping, his movements faster than before.

The pages rustled. In that moment, he reached page 135.

The upper right corner of the page bore a prominent black-and-white headshot. The man in the photo wore a black-and-white uniform, his expression amiable, his features somewhat plain. He looked very familiar, as if Shi Wu had just seen him.

Wait...

Wasn't this the Warden who gave the speech at tonight's reception?

Shi Wu looked back at the book's publication date, then at the prison's founding date, and quickly estimated the current date.

He drew a sharp breath.

Had the Warden lived for over three hundred years???

But no matter how he looked, the person in the photo and the Warden he saw today seemed cast from the same mold—no signs of aging, no sign of being a different person, and nothing suggesting a successor.

On the left side of page 135, a biographical note was printed:

"Harold Fiman, former core member of the 'Old Regime's' Psychological Reconstruction Department, one of the founders of the Behavior Correction School. His core belief was: The evil in human nature is not uncontrollable; it should be guided toward goodness through scientific management, environmental cues, and ideological alignment."

"He established White Hole Prison in 1697, pioneering the unique 'Non-Coercive Reshaping System,' rejecting corporal punishment and forced labor, instead encouraging reading, psychiatric therapy, and self-reflection."

"Warden Fiman personally received incoming inmates, devising personalized reform plans for them. Records indicate he held one-on-one conversations with at least twelve prisoners daily, earning him the title 'the most humane Warden.'"

"'The most humane Warden.'"

Shi Wu stared at that line for a long while, a sudden chill abruptly rising from the depths of his heart.

He slowly raised his hand and touched the photo on the page. The paper was dry, yet a strange warmth seemed to seep from the photograph.

"Hey, buddy, there you are!"

A familiar voice suddenly rang out behind Shi Wu.

Shi Wu turned to see three people emerging from not far away—Scarface, the young woman, and a man as thin as a bamboo pole, also one of the players.

"Where are the others?" Shi Wu asked. "Why just the three of you?"

Scarface's face darkened, and he didn't speak. The young woman also looked sorrowful. It was the tall, thin man who sighed before answering, "Two were chosen at the morning assembly. They couldn't say it... were thrown into solitary confinement by some Guard Captains. Haven't seen them since. And two others..."

The thin man gave a bitter smile.

"...aren't in a good mental state."

He didn't continue, but everyone understood what he meant.

Shi Wu fell silent for a moment. This instance was too large, separating everyone. Picking them off one by one was indeed an effective method.

"Let's not talk about that," Scarface broke the silence first, his rough voice unusually low and hoarse. "This damn place is suffocating. I have to watch my cellmate every day, chanting this and that, chanting until my brain's about to go haywire."

"But—" Scarface's lips curled into a grin, "luckily, that 'big brother' from the start really built up my immunity to everyone's talking."

Everyone involuntarily recalled the scene of the middle-aged man wildly calling Scarface "brother" in his wild voice, and they couldn't help but share a knowing smile.

"That old-timer really did 'immeasurable good,'" Shi Wu chimed in, playing along with the joke.

The atmosphere finally lightened considerably.

The young woman hadn't joined in. She hesitated for a moment, head bowed, before suddenly speaking up, "Just now, over there... I found a door."

All eyes instantly turned toward her.