Lu Yu heard her words, the corners of his lips quirking slightly before he lifted his head, his expression already back to normal.
A flicker of confusion first flashed across his face, as if he was confirming that the warden was really speaking to him—to a prisoner like him—and sharing her thoughts at this moment.
So he answered earnestly, "I don’t know either. Maybe for some people, it’s just hard to voice their tenderness."
As he spoke, he shrugged helplessly. "I remember my first terminal was a secondhand one."
"It was outdated, with weak signals that couldn’t even cross star systems. The exterior was battered too. I used it until I came of age, saved up my first bit of money, and couldn’t wait to throw it away."
"Then, when my father passed and we were sorting through his belongings, I found out he’d picked it back up at some point and kept it with old photos. Later, I learned he’d skipped lunch for two months just to save up for that terminal from our meager living expenses."
Lu Yu’s face remained calm as he spoke, but a glimmer of moisture flickered in his eyes—gone in a blink, hidden away. "He never said a word about it to me. In fact, the day he gave me the terminal, he even scolded me, saying I didn’t deserve anything better and that secondhand was good enough."
The warden’s gaze seemed to soften slightly at his words.
Lu Yu, as if realizing he’d overstepped, quickly added, "My apologies. That was presumptuous of me."
"My father was just a thug from a junk planet. How could he compare to the former warden?"
But the warden shook her head. "It’s fine."
Then, as if she’d finally found someone who understood, the words poured out effortlessly.
She asked Lu Yu, "Did you spend much time together?"
Lu Yu knew the former warden had spent years drifting through space with the airborne prison, meaning he and the current warden must have rarely seen each other.
He replied, "We lived together, but he was always working overtime. Sometimes he’d suddenly come back after days, sleep for a bit, and leave again."
Shen Ying’s expression mirrored his sentiment. "Why is there always so much work?"
"Not everything has to be done personally."
Her words, compared to her earlier laziness in dumping tasks on her secretary, carried a deeply personal tone.
No matter how aggressive she seemed on the outside, at her core, she was just a girl who regretted her father’s overwork and absence.
Yet Lu Yu didn’t indulge her. Instead, he said seriously, "Because he had to provide for the family."
"I’m sure if he could, the former warden would’ve wanted to go home and be with his family instead of staying here year after year. But he couldn’t."
"Whether it’s developing groundbreaking systems or doing the lowest labor, they’re all just trying to give their children a better future."
The warden seemed deeply moved by this. After all, her current status—stepping into a position countless people spent their lives striving for—was entirely due to her father’s legacy.
Shen Ying looked at Lu Yu. "Is your father still around?"
Lu Yu: "No. He died at his workstation. I got the news while celebrating my graduation with classmates."
The former warden’s sudden death must have hit her just as unexpectedly. Even her succession had been rushed.
Sure enough, the warden’s eyes clouded with confusion at his words.
It revealed her underlying unease about her current situation.
Suddenly inheriting her father’s position, drifting alone in space with a prison full of ruthless criminals—this couldn’t have been part of her career plan.
The massive prison was already a complex web of factions, and its unique existence meant constant external pressure. Now, with the crown prince imprisoned, the storm of political strife had swept her up too.
Lu Yu was certain her composure was just a facade.
And indeed, after being reminded that her pain and predicament all stemmed from her father’s abrupt passing, the warden finally took a deep breath and asked, "How did you get through that day?"
Lu Yu lowered his gaze, his tone still even, but Shen Ying could clearly sense the loneliness woven into it.
"At first, I wasn’t even that sad—just shocked. How could someone who’d been yelling at me with so much energy just days ago be gone?"
"We didn’t spend much time together, so the house didn’t feel much emptier without him. But then I’d see his toothbrush cup while brushing my teeth and wonder whether to keep it or throw it away. The cheap liquor he left unfinished never seemed to diminish no matter how many mornings passed. And every time I filled out a job application, I’d automatically write his number in the emergency contact before realizing my mistake."
"These little things kept ambushing me, each one carving out a piece of me. Eventually, the numbness sets in, and you move on."
Lu Yu’s deep brown eyes seemed to pierce straight into Shen Ying’s heart, guiding her toward a future where, at the very least, she had someone who understood her pain.
Just as he expected, the warden reached out and ran her fingers over the assembled storage desk in front of her, her expression a mix of confusion and complexity—as if she could see her father working in this room for years, perhaps pausing just like this, touching old furniture and reminiscing about its place in their home.
Then the warden spoke, and Lu Yu almost knew what she’d say.
This was enough for today. The warden probably needed space, and he was patient.
But what she said next froze Lu Yu’s composed expression in shock.
Because the warden said, "What a kind and thoughtful man you are, Lu. Even a scumbag like that could have so many redeeming qualities in your eyes."
"Huh?" Half feigned confusion, half genuine surprise.
Shen Ying met his gaze, equally taken aback. "Isn’t that the case?"
"If I’m not mistaken, your father was a greedy, cold-hearted bastard, wasn’t he?"
She leaned over the desk, looking down at Lu Yu as he sanded the surface. "A man like that wouldn’t provide for his family, let alone skip meals for two months to buy his son a terminal."
"If he’d really cared for you that much, why would he sell you—after you’d secured a job interview and a chance to leave the junk planet—to an underground organization, where you were brutally remade into a plaything?"
Lu Yu’s face twisted violently. His life had been a series of ups and downs, and that bastard had been the weight crushing him and his mother throughout his wretched childhood.
At sixteen, when he’d finally clawed his way to the edge of escape, that man had shoved him into the abyss.
In just a few years, he’d gone from a commodity to a ruthless underground leader, his hands stained with blood.
The man who’d suddenly vanished one day—only to be dragged before his mother’s corpse and flayed alive—wasn’t even worth mentioning in his ledger of sins.
Not even the crimes he’d been charged with included that. No one knew what Lu Yu had been before becoming "Boss Lu."
The only one in this prison who knew anything about his past was that fool Bat—and not only would he never betray him, but even if he wanted to, he hadn’t had the chance.
How did the warden know about his past?
Lu Yu’s heart pounded violently. If she had known all along, then everything he had just said must have seemed like a clown’s performance in her eyes—and she had even played along.
But as someone who had risen to lead countless ruthless criminals, Lu Yu’s mental fortitude was far beyond ordinary.
Even now, exposed, his expression remained unshaken. The sense of crisis only sharpened his calm.
Meeting the warden’s gaze, he smiled faintly. "My biological father certainly didn’t set a good example for my life."
"But the role of ‘father’ in my eyes was never his to claim."
This was the truth. As a child, Lu Yu had a scumbag for a father and a gravely ill mother. Without occasional acts of kindness, survival would have been impossible.
There was an old man who ran a mechanical repair shop below his apartment—stingy and cantankerous, but at least he occasionally tossed expired nutrient supplements Lu Yu’s way and turned a blind eye to him loitering in the shop.
That was how Lu Yu had picked up his mechanical repair skills.
Yet Warden Shen Ying merely nodded. "Then the man who died when you were ten somehow lived another six years in your world."
At this, Lu Yu’s pupils constricted sharply, his composure nearly cracking.
Even Bat didn’t know about this. How could she?
Shen Ying, as if reading his mind, said, "You’ve had terrible luck with elders. Every ‘parental figure’ who entered your life after you turned ten had nothing but ill intentions."
A flicker of acknowledgment passed through Lu Yu’s eyes. She wasn’t wrong. After the old man died, he’d rarely encountered kindness.
He’d been a pretty child, and at ten, still young—but just the right age for certain predators. Without the old man’s protection, more than one adult had eyed him with vile intentions.
Fortunately, he’d escaped unscathed—until his own father sold him off. A powerful figure took notice, ordering his transformation into what he was now.
Every person of that ‘parental’ age who had sought to exploit or trample him had ended up dead by his hand.
These memories no longer shook Lu Yu’s heart. What unsettled him was the warden’s omniscience about his past.
He had believed himself the one in control, the one dissecting her psyche and pulling the strings with ease.
Now, it seemed the opposite was true.
Yet the warden abruptly shifted topics, showing no intention of punishing his lies.
Instead, she dragged a hand across the surface of a nearby table and frowned. "Hey. This isn’t smooth enough."
"And here—the restored pattern clearly has flaws."
Her dark eyes fixed on him. "Small talk is one thing, but negligence in your duties? That’s unforgivable."
"Or is your carpentry not as impressive as you’ve boasted?"
In one swift motion, Shen Ying seized Lu Yu’s antlers, her voice laced with danger. "In my domain, cutting corners leads to dire consequences."
The moment her fingers closed around his antlers, a jolt of electricity shot through Lu Yu’s scalp. A flush spread across his face, and his sensitive deer ears twitched instinctively.
Though his antlers had fully ossified, the modifications done to him—intended for commercial purposes—had heightened their sensitivity.
No one had ever dared to touch them before.
(
