The air in the cell at Zhongjiang Prison was so damp it felt as if water might drip from it.
Shen Lian stood just inside the iron door, his prison uniform still carrying the musty smell of the warehouse. His hands hung at his sides, fingertips trembling slightly. It was grief and indignation, repressed to the breaking point, searching for a way out.
The prisoners around him were like sharks that had caught the scent of blood. Their eyes roamed over him, full of undisguised malice. Some whistled, some chuckled under their breath, and most simply watched coldly, waiting to see how this place would swallow the newcomer.
Shen Lian lowered his eyes.
The face of his younger sister, Song Xue, flashed through his mind. Her sixteen-year-old face still held the trusting affection she had for her brother. His parents’ memorial portraits stood in the mourning hall, their smiles blurred by the smoke from the incense and candles.
Everything was ruined.
And he was still alive, locked in this cage, without even the right to seek justice for his family.
“New guy, get over here.”
A hoarse voice cut through Shen Lian’s thoughts.
In the prison cafeteria, the inmates sat in clusters with their trays. Shen Lian walked in carrying his own, and instantly felt dozens of eyes turn toward him.
