Triumph

The welts on his arms sting even when the chains are not cutting into his flesh. His throat scorches and a burning itch builds in his lungs and around the sockets of his eyes. It is the Mint Tea at work and Yong refuses to give into the urge to gasp for a breath while the insufferable old man watches with his greedy, beady eyes. 

Instead, Yong glares the man down - biting the inside of his cheek to keep his mouth from twitching as he imagined all sorts of revenge he would extract on the man and his spawns given chance. Betrayal, disloyalty does not sit well with him, he learns as the innocent herb which is strangely poisonous to him makes its course through his circulation.