Pang Wei, the prison warden, strutted through the corridors with an air of arrogance, his nose practically pointing to the ceiling.

The fawning praises from the guards and inmates only inflated his ego further—it was like living the life of an emperor. But as he approached the solitary confinement cell at the end of the hallway, his smug expression vanished instantly.

Here we go again—facing that damn bastard.

After inputting a series of security codes, the heavy stainless-steel door creaked open, releasing a wave of stale, rotting air.

"Tang Yulan, come with me to the interrogation room," Pang Wei ordered coldly.

On the iron bed lay a man with disheveled hair and a rugged beard that somehow gave him a wild, untamed charm. A straw dangled lazily from his mouth as he reclined with effortless ease, as if he were on vacation—except for the chains around his wrists and ankles, each as thick as a goose egg.

Hearing Pang Wei’s voice, the man stretched and rose to his feet, the chains clinking loudly. Squinting, he said, "Hey, Fatty Pang, lead the way."

"Warned you—don’t call me that," Pang Wei snapped, his hands trembling with rage. If not for this prisoner’s special status, he wouldn’t have bothered showing up in person.

"Warden Pang!" A guard saluted respectfully.

"Hmm," Pang Wei replied, forcing a veneer of authority as he nodded slightly.

"Hah, Fatty Pang, you’ve gotten even chubbier since last time!" Tang Yulan teased.

Pang Wei scoffed, his face darkening.

"Seriously, dude, your nose is all purple, and you reek of at least three different perfumes. Must’ve been busy ‘mounting the cabbage’ again," Tang Yulan continued, grinning from ear to ear. Being alone in solitary for so long, he was making up for lost time with nonstop chatter.

"You’re the pig!" Pang Wei barked, his face flushed crimson. "Watch your mouth—this is an insult to law enforcement!"

The other inmates burst into laughter, the noise echoing through the corridor. The patrolling guards banged their batons against the cell door, shouting, "Quiet down, or you’ll all be on lockdown!" They didn’t dare provoke the warden’s temper—but Tang Yulan was a different story. Before his imprisonment, he’d been known as the "Soldier King" in the military, a man rumored to have slaughtered countless enemies.

As Pang Wei dragged Tang Yulan into the interrogation room, he hurled one last threat: "Tang Yulan, let’s see how long you can keep enjoying yourself."

Oh? Did they come up with some new torture this time?

Tang Yulan lounged back in his chair, legs crossed. Over the past three years, they’d tried everything to force a confession—torture, then bribery. But he’d countered every move with calm indifference, unfazed by their tactics.

Twenty minutes later, a stunning woman entered the room.

The moment she stepped in, her seductive aura hit like a wave. Her naturally flirtatious eyes, low-cut blazer, and ultra-short skirt that barely covered her thighs left little to the imagination as she walked by, the hemline teasing glimpses of her long, shapely legs. honey trap?

Tang Yulan had to admit—she was irresistible. Just those perfect breasts alone were enough to drive any man wild.

The woman sat across from him and pulled out a notepad. "Name?"

"Tang Yulan. And you are?" he replied, his gaze fixed on her chest.

"Age?"

"Twenty-five. Honestly, that blazer suits you perfectly—it really highlights your... assets," he said, eyes narrowing with appreciation.

The woman’s delicate brows furrowed slightly, a flicker of something unreadable crossing her face. "Oh? You like them?"

Tang Yulan licked his lips. "They’re spectacular—though I suspect they’re not entirely natural. Korean-made, perhaps?"

"What did you just say?!" she snapped, slamming her hands on the table and standing up, chest thrust forward defiantly. "They’re real, alright? Go ahead, touch them if you don’t believe me!"

No way that’s happening, Tang Yulan thought, eyeing her suspiciously. But the way her chest jiggled with each movement… they were definitely real, and very generous.

"Seriously?"

"What, are you scared?" she challenged.

"Scared of you?" Tang Yulan slowly extended his shackled hands, a wicked grin spreading across his face. Free boob grab? Hell yes.

Just as his fingers brushed against her, she slapped his wrist—but Tang Yulan’s hands were far larger than she’d anticipated. Her breast was suddenly, firmly in his grasp.

Soft. Bouncy. Perfect.

His eyes nearly rolled back as he realized—she wasn’t wearing a bra. Two firm peaks pressed against his palm, and he gave them an experimental squeeze before reluctantly pulling away.

"Hey—now I can charge you with sexual assault of a police officer," she hissed, eyes blazing with fury.

Tch. She set this up just to frame me? Tang Yulan noticed her expression wasn’t anger—it was resentment, like a woman teased and left unsatisfied.

He smirked. "Hey, you’re the one who said I could touch them. They’re real, no implants, untouched by surgery. And besides, the International Court already sentenced me—what’s one more charge?"