A biting cold penetrated through the worn linen prison uniform, making his teeth chatter. When he opened his eyes, he saw gray wooden beams and heavy snowflakes floating outside the icy window lattice.
"Are you awake?" A hoarse voice sounded next to him, "It's hard to survive. The one who got kicked yesterday would have died long ago."
Liang Daye turned around and saw a young man with frostbite on his face, huddled in the corner and chewing on a piece of frozen hard wheat cake. The crumbs of the cake fell into the haystack, but he didn't forget to pick it up and stuff it in his mouth.
This is not his office with a view of the night view of the CBD, nor is it a rental house where he can lie down after working overtime. The memory stayed in yesterday afternoon - he had just finished editing the third version of the WeChat tweet, and was scolding the planning department at the computer for being brain-dead. Suddenly, the world started to spin, and when he opened his eyes again, he was shoved into this hellish place. Before he could understand the situation, he was kicked by a soldier with a rough face because of "disrespectful eyes", and he fainted.
