Chapter Seven: I Am So Handsome

"Hey, kid, you really lucked out. That electric chair hasn't malfunctioned once in decades, but when your turn came, it broke."
The newly transferred middle-aged prison guard seemed to be quite the chatterbox, and during the morning rounds, he lingered to say a few extra words to Shenxiu Zhong.
Upon hearing this, Shenxiu Zhong imitated the Westerners, exclaiming, "Oh~ thank God, oh~ my goodness..."
Only then did the guard leave, satisfied.
In truth, Shenxiu Zhong had anticipated the electric chair might break. The system had promised him three extra weeks to live.
At that time, he suspected the electric chair would malfunction at the moment of his execution.
The law in New York is nothing if not intricate; when the electric chair of a death row inmate fails, it isn't simply repaired and used again.
Instead, it must be reported, reviewed by various judicial bodies, and only after thorough examination can the execution be rescheduled.
The time lost in this process amounts to roughly three weeks...
This hard-won reprieve was not something Shenxiu Zhong intended to waste.
First, as planned... he needed to tidy himself up.
Standing before the sheet metal mirror welded to the wall, Shenxiu Zhong, after days of traversing worlds, examined his appearance for the first time.
His original self seemed to be a Chinese-American hybrid.
His skin was a cool ivory tinged with wheat, pores nearly invisible, and his jet-black brows required no grooming, sharp and defined—what would be called "sword-like" in ancient times.
European-style double eyelids and a high, straight nose lent him a refined Asian elegance, distinct from the broad features of Westerners.
His irises were a pale blue, clear as an unblemished sky, and even the tough buzz cut—a style that demands a handsome face—suited him effortlessly.
He couldn't help but admit:
I am truly handsome.
Even Shenxiu Zhong, a man of unwavering masculinity, couldn't help but marvel inwardly as he studied his own features.
The only thing marring this image was the untidy stubble.
Once he handled that, his looks would be nothing short of model caliber.
He searched the sink for a razor.
As expected, there was none—razor blades are tightly controlled in prison.
Even the toothbrush was only as long as a finger, lest inmates turn it into a weapon.
With no other options, Shenxiu Zhong resorted to his last trick:
He plucked the hairs by hand!
Each pulled whisker revealed a tiny follicle at its root.

Though painful, he had no choice; for the sake of his next plan, he needed to look as striking as possible.
—
Today, the recreation yard was particularly desolate, with only small groups of inmates huddling together for warmth, most wrapped in bandages and covered in medicated patches.
The infirmary nearby was the opposite—crowded to the brim. Dr. Jinsha, clad in a white coat, rushed back and forth, hardly resting for a moment.
It was unsurprising.
After the recent gang battle, nearly seventy percent of the inmates were injured, some severely enough to be sent to New York's main hospital for emergency treatment—White among them.
The lightly wounded remained in prison for treatment, causing the infirmary's workload to skyrocket.
With only two rotating attending physicians, the rest were interns.
Most interns were beginners, unused to such chaos, so Dr. Jinsha, on duty today, was exceptionally busy.
Shenxiu Zhong wanted to get into the infirmary.
It was now the place with the most wounded in the prison.
Where there are wounded, there are opportunities—opportunities to raise his overall rating, to complete side quests.
For example, most Americans know how to shoot; if any inmates were skilled in boxing, lock-picking, or possessed unique abilities,
all the better—his combat power would soar.
And his overall rating would certainly improve.
His plan:
Enter the infirmary, use "Medical Mastery" as a cover, and while treating the injured, discreetly cast "Mutant Healing" to draw abilities from them.
Even if none of these abilities appeared, he could still complete side quests. With his current rate of mental energy recovery, in twelve days, he could finish both side quests one and two:
Using Healing for 50 seconds and 100 seconds, respectively.
The 50-second quest required 3 points of mental energy—not a big deal. The 100-second quest offered a random passive ability.
If Shenxiu Zhong received a combat-related passive, his fighting prowess would increase dramatically.
He stroked his freshly plucked cheeks, but getting into the infirmary was no easy feat.
After all, he was merely an inmate, without any medical credentials.
If he simply told the guards he wanted to enter the infirmary, he’d be dismissed as a fool.
Applying to the warden... he would need to meet the warden first.
So he needed another approach.

Dr. Jinsha was his target.
During the three-hour recreation period, Shenxiu Zhong searched the gravel for a flat stone, its thinnest point sharpened to a small edge.
He held it in his palm, hidden from view.
When recreation ended, and the guards began herding the inmates to the prison cafeteria,
they passed through the electrified wire gates and down a broad corridor lined with various rooms.
Guard stations, and—importantly—the infirmary!
As they neared the infirmary, Shenxiu Zhong calmly folded his hands together,
and with his right hand, pressed the sharpest tip of the stone against the pad of his left thumb.
His Medical Mastery made him intimately familiar with the body’s arteries.
Within the thumb’s flesh lies a branch of the radial artery—
easy to reach, not too large, carrying enough blood to be dramatic.
Severing it wouldn’t be fatal, but the arterial pressure would produce a striking spray of blood.
So, steeling himself, Shenxiu Zhong slashed hard with his right hand.
Crimson spurted from the pad of his thumb.
He immediately clenched the stone in his right hand, hiding it again.
His left arm tensed, increasing arterial pressure for an even more impressive effect.
He then raised his left hand high, displaying the fountain of blood prominently.
He howled like a slaughtered pig: "Oh my God! My wound’s split open again!"
The commotion drew the attention of inmates and guards alike.
They stopped, turned, and looked at Shenxiu Zhong with contempt—
as if to say: What sort of grown man screams like that?
Shenxiu Zhong paid them no mind.
He kept up his act—
Sure enough, before long, the fish he’d hoped to catch arrived.
Dr. Jinsha, hearing the cries, emerged from the infirmary. Her emerald eyes landed on Shenxiu Zhong’s hand, gushing blood like a miniature fountain.