Chapter Nine: Reporting Offenses for Merit and Sentence Reduction

While Cui Hao and two other boys were making their beds, the iron door was suddenly flung open. Normally, the guards wouldn't come at this hour unless there was a new arrival. Sure enough, the guard marched in a newcomer, his face covered in tattoos. The guard announced, "Take good care of him, all right?"

I replied with a sly grin, "Understood."

In situations like this, everyone knew what "taking care" meant.

After the guard left, the newcomer climbed straight onto the upper bunk. For the first week, new arrivals were only allowed to sleep on the floor; the bunks were off-limits. I said nothing and glanced at Cui Hao. Without a word, Cui Hao kicked him off the bunk so hard he landed on the floor. One of the other boys grabbed a blanket and covered the surveillance camera, while the rest threw another blanket over the new kid and started beating him up. To his credit, the guy was tough—he stayed silent even as fists and feet rained down. The more silent he was, the harder the boys went at him. After half an hour, he finally couldn’t take it anymore and cried out, "Big brothers, I was wrong, please stop. I have something to say."

The boys paused. He poked his head out and said, "A phoenix finds itself in a crow's nest—who here is the leader? A dragon crawls into a turtle pit—may the boss speak up!"

What the hell?

He got another round for that. Some of the boys were so riled up they jumped to kick him. At last, he gave in, lying on the floor, clutching his head, begging for mercy. The others looked to me. I said, "That's enough," and they gathered the blankets, crawling back to their beds to watch the next show.

"Cui Hao, show him our special service. Make sure our new friend is satisfied," I said.

"Absolutely," Cui Hao replied, then led the newcomer into the bathroom for a game I’d invented.

Inside, Cui Hao told him to strip and threatened, "Scrub well—our boss likes pale, delicate boys like you."

"Name and number?" Cui Hao demanded.

"Chen Haoran," the newcomer replied.

Cui Hao called out, "Boss, his name is Chen Haoran!"

"I heard," I answered. "Let’s begin."

Cui Hao ordered, "Clothes off, squat in a horse stance. One hand on the back of your head, the other on your ass!"

I liked to have the boys come up with new tricks, and each time they outdid themselves. Their creativity was eye-opening.

Chen Haoran squatted as instructed, looking positively seductive in that pose. Then Cui Hao filled a plastic bag with water, poked a hole in it, and placed it atop Chen Haoran’s head. "Let the waterfall begin! Time for your performance—twist your neck, wiggle your hips, ready, go!"

Chen Haoran complied, but something was missing.

I said, "Cui Hao, not quite there yet."

"Say it—mustn't it be just perfect?" Cui Hao replied.

He handed Chen Haoran a mop. "Go on, let's see your show, Miss Ali Mountain!"

Chen Haoran grabbed the mop handle and performed a pole dance—clearly, he'd spent time in bars. He was as good as a professional dancer.

When he finished, Cui Hao covered the soap with suds and scattered them all over the floor, then told him to continue his performance as the Little Swan. He even piled bubbles on Chen Haoran’s head—it was spot on.

Still unsatisfied, Cui Hao fetched a large water bottle and told him he couldn’t use his hands to fill it. The only way was to wedge the bottle somewhere on his body and wiggle his hips to speed up the process. It was hilarious—he looked like an eel squirming into a bottle, his backside wiggling all the while.

After all that, his pale bottom was red. "Bring him back," I said.

Cui Hao escorted him in, and he was still trembling with fright.

"Chen Haoran, nice name," I said. "Tough enough?"

"Are you scared?"

"I know I was wrong, boss," Chen Haoran stammered. "I confess, I’ll tell you everything, just help me get out of here!"

Now I was interested. "Looks like you’re about to earn some credit."

"Fine, but it depends on what you tell me. Is it worth anything? Does it have value—understand?"

"I’ll tell you everything. Boss, whatever you say goes. I’ll follow you, do whatever you ask!"

"Oh really? Then come here and make me feel good."

He froze for a second, then immediately moved in and started to undress me.

I kicked him away. "You want me dead, or what?"

"But boss, you just said—"

The others were doubled over with laughter. Clearly, this guy had more tricks up his sleeve. Things were about to get interesting.

I asked, "What did your old boss do?"

"Loan sharking, gambling, raising capital—anything shady," Chen Haoran said. "There was even aggravated assault and homicide. My boss is Shi Haote from Qingdao—he ran a casino in Jimo. One guy owed him money, but it was all a setup—a pig-butchering scam!"

"What’s a pig-butchering scam?" I asked.

"It’s when Shi Haote and his crew set up a gambling trap. They let someone win hundreds of thousands at first, then make him lose millions. When he’s broke, they lend him money at huge interest…"

"And then?"

"The guy owed over a million, lost everything, but my boss wanted more. The debt plus interest ballooned to over ten million in just two months. The guy couldn’t pay and ran."

I was amazed. Over a million owed, two months’ interest over ten million? That’s at least five hundred percent per month!

Chen Haoran went on, "Eventually we tracked him down through friends. He was at a barbecue on Wenhua Road in Jimo with a group of friends. When my boss caught him, he tried to run. My boss pulled out a double-barreled shotgun and shot him in the chest. He collapsed. His friends dragged him to the hospital, and my boss fled."

"And the result?"

"I got arrested."

"For this?"

"No, boss. I opened a massage parlor, hired a few girls. I got busted for organizing prostitution, coercion, and public disorder."

"You didn’t confess to anything else?"

"No one asked, so I didn’t say."

I laughed. "You might have a way out, then. Keep talking. If you can’t give them something big, you’ll be in prison for years. In there, pretty boys like you are in high demand."

"How so?"

"Didn’t you just offer yourself to me? In prison, there’ll be plenty waiting for you every day!"

Chen Haoran burst into tears. "Boss, I don’t want that. Please get me out…"

I was just scaring him. He was a minor, so unless something unexpected happened, he’d get probation or be sent to juvenile detention, not a long sentence. But he didn’t know that—he spilled everything.

He told us about gambling scams, turf wars, smashing up KTVs, possessing marijuana and ecstasy, intentional injury, illegal detention, and more. The next day, I handed the notes to the guard. He was delighted. That very day, he teamed up with the criminal police to start investigations. There were cases the police didn’t know about or had no evidence for.

For more than a month, the police kept taking Chen Haoran for interrogations, crime scene identifications, and to help them make arrests. It was a month I’d never forget. Officer Li took us to his office every day for tea and cigarettes, chatting and confiding. I smoked so much I nearly puked. If it weren’t for the tea, I’d have been sick. In return, I was given privileges. I helped the guards manage the ward: maintaining order, delivering food, medicine, and handiwork supplies, then collecting the finished products—sorting hair for wigs, folding paper bags for factories.

At night, I’d return to cell 209, where Cui Hao and Chen Haoran had already warmed the beds—one on each side of me. Those two boys were quite endearing. If it weren’t for the surveillance cameras, I might have made a mistake; sometimes, it was hard to resist…

Eventually my trial came. On sentencing day, Officer Li had already been promoted twice—from Third-Class Inspector to First-Class Superintendent. He was only twenty-seven or twenty-eight, not even thirty, and already rising fast. Because of this case, my original twelve-year sentence was reduced by five. The charge was armed robbery and extortion, plus destroying someone’s ID. But since I was underage, I got seven years combined, with two years in juvenile detention and two or three in prison, counting parole and commutation, so I’d be out in a bit over two years.

In spring of 2007, on April Fool’s Day, I saw my last day in the detention center. I’d spent a year and a half there, with delays during the trial and sentencing—almost eight months in all. Then I was transferred to Beishu Prison in Shandong to continue my “reformation.”