Trash Island didn't always have that name.
It used to be called Xijia Island.
Located dead center in the disputed waters between the Republic of Silverlight and the Empire of Auten, the island sat just beyond both countries' borders. Both nations claimed absolute, non-negotiable sovereignty over the surrounding sea.
Warships from each side regularly squared off, locked in a pointless standoff, burning through military budgets that could've funded a century's worth of fisheries.
No benefits. No compromise.
Then someone came up with a genius idea.
Build a prison on the island.
Send the worst criminals from both countries there.
The proposal had three major advantages:
Cut spending.
Protect government reputation.
Make escapes impossible.
Because of civil rights laws protecting prisoners, both governments had been sinking massive amounts of money into prison infrastructure—and fending off sneaky reporters determined to expose inhumane treatment.
Xijia Island, being completely isolated, solved that problem. No journalist could set foot there without clearance. No one would ever find out what went on.
The two nations quickly reached an agreement. They pulled back their warships, issued a joint statement, and ordered all fishing vessels to operate only near their respective shores.
And thus, Xijia Island began its transformation… into a nightmare.
"So, why did it become a nightmare?" Zhang Chi asked.
The plane hit turbulence, followed by a distinct drop—it was descending.
Zhou Ke gripped the armrest, then motioned for Zhang Chi to lean in.
She complied. He whispered, almost inaudibly:
"Because no one has ever been released from Trash Island."
"Huh?"
Zhou Ke gave her a look like how do you not get this yet?
"No one knows if the people sent there are alive or dead."
Zhang Chi glanced at the patrolling flight marshal. "Do you think we're going to die?"
The engine noise roared so loud it devoured half their words. If they hadn't been so close, Zhou Ke wouldn't have understood her at all.
He paused. "Hard to say."
Just then, the marshal passed by. He didn't even glance their way—Zhou Ke and the girl were practically invisible among the hardened criminals on board.
Far too unremarkable.
When morning came, Zhou Ke finally broke his silence and started a conversation with Zhang Chi.
The longer you stayed on this plane, the more powerless you felt. Like a man drowning, you'd grab at any floating straw—not because it made sense, but because it was something.
A strange little sheep was still better than a pack of bloodthirsty wolves.
To his surprise, she didn't act like a criminal at all. She was polite, soft-spoken, even a little… bureaucratic. Always vague.
After the marshal passed by, Zhou Ke asked, "So, how'd you end up here?"
Zhang Chi froze.
"I mean, what did you do?"
She glanced at his right arm—specifically, his mechanical hand. "You first."
Zhou Ke replied, "I was selling serum on the black market."
She said nothing.
Zhou Ke smirked. "Shocking, right?"
She raised an eyebrow.
"I stole it from the company I worked for," he admitted.
"That's a serious crime…"
"I know."
He lifted his prosthetic hand and stared at it. "But what else could I do? My maintenance coverage expired. I couldn't just wait for nerve death."
Zhang Chi noted that the prosthetic looked nearly brand new and moved with remarkable precision—its balance almost as steady as a natural limb.
"How much did it cost?" she asked.
Money was a taboo topic with strangers.
But in a place like this, facing danger together, people got closer.
"Fifty thousand yuan," he said. Then turned to watch her reaction.
Zhang Chi's mouth parted slightly, delayed shock registering across her face.
Zhou Ke chuckled. "Yeah, I know. Expensive." He added, "That's why I started dealing serum. I'm not part of any gang. No middlemen. I was just doing it for myself. But I got caught after only a few sales. Really bad luck."
He tucked the prosthetic back into his sleeve.
"I don't think it was a buyer who ratted me out," he muttered. "I think it was someone from the underground network."
Zhang Chi tilted her head. "Because you cut into their business?"
Zhou Ke nodded. "They're huge. Rumor has it even the cops protect them."
"They turned you in?"
"I don't know. But I was the only one who got busted."
"Sometimes it's your own kind who come after you hardest," Zhang Chi said.
The words hit Zhou Ke square in the chest. His lips twisted in a bitter grimace.
"Gotta make an example. Once they see what happened to me, no one will dare mess with them again."
After a pause, he asked, "And you?"
"What about me?"
"How'd you end up here?"
Zhang Chi stayed silent.
Zhou Ke tried guessing. "Murdered your husband?"
Zhang Chi: "…"
"No? Then… child torture?"
Zhang Chi: "…"
"Armed robbery? A big heist?" He looked her up and down. "Though you don't really seem like the type."
Zhang Chi cut him off. "Same as you."
"What?"
"Selling serum."
Zhou Ke's eyes widened. "Seriously?"
She didn't confirm. But she didn't deny it either.
"I thought I was the only lunatic bold enough," Zhou Ke said. "Were you that strapped for cash?"
"Who isn't?" she replied.
"There are other ways to make money."
"This way pays more."
"Where'd you get your supply?"
Zhang Chi put a finger to her lips. "Secret."
"…Fair enough," Zhou Ke said. His curiosity now burning. "Why were you so desperate for money?"
"Guess," she said.
"Student loans?"
A flash of confusion crossed her face. Zhou Ke caught it immediately.
"Guess not," he said. "I figured only crippling debt could push a girl like you over the edge."
The phrase a girl like you made her want to laugh.
"Aren't you a good kid?" she asked.
Zhou Ke bared his teeth in a grin. "Hell no. I never went to college. Taught myself everything."
Suddenly, the intercom buzzed.
"Attention. Attention. Approaching landing. Attention. Attention. Approaching landing…"
It was a standard passenger announcement—but clearly directed at the crew.
Before the broadcast even ended, a unit of armed guards stormed out from the far end of the plane.
They'd been hidden this whole time.
Several passengers' expressions soured instantly.
Even an idiot could guess: the best time to escape a flight was either at takeoff—or landing.
The marshal at the front sneered from the doorway.
"Looks like some of you just had your little plans crushed."
His laugh was mocking.
Like a cat refusing to kill a mouse, just so it could keep playing with the tail.
The plane touched down with a screeching thud-thud-thud.
Once the cabin doors opened, the marshal whistled.
"Congratulations, scumbags. Time to greet your new life."
Upon disembarking, each prisoner had a black hood thrown over their head.
They were herded into vehicles, twisting through endless turns and roundabouts. The drive took nearly two hours.
When they finally arrived, the prisoners were arranged into groups. Each one was bound with a chain-link system: individual cuffs clipped into one large loop, connecting them all.
The spacing was precise—just long enough to walk, but not enough to break away.
The sound of metal clanking echoed like someone banging cymbals right next to your ears.
Deafening. Nerve-racking.
Zhang Chi was at the head of the group. A guard held her chain and called out instructions every time they turned.
After about fifteen minutes, the ground beneath her feet changed.
Wet. Slippery.
A chill crawled up her spine.
Rumble—
The roar of a heavy truck.
Everyone stopped, boarding one by one. Jammed together in the back like livestock headed to market.
The truck started. Cold wind slammed into them. A chorus of sharp inhales—hsss.
The black hoods kept their faces hidden, but they could feel each other's body heat.
That sticky, gross heat that only comes from strangers.
Shoulder to shoulder in the cold, trying to stay upright on the rattling metal floor.
And so they were driven deeper, and deeper… into the unknown.