Qi Tongwei was sentenced to death.
Everyone was waiting for him to die.
At a celebratory banquet, his political rival raised a glass: "He brought this on himself. He has no one to blame but himself."
His former classmate lay paralyzed in a hospital room, and his first love had been crying for him for thirty years.
No one thought he had any chance of turning things around.
Until six days before his execution.
In his cell, he used a ballpoint pen to draw up 120 pages of blueprints.
A gun.
A gun unlike anything this world had ever seen.
Its accuracy outclassed anything in active service. Its silencer was world-class. It could fire at minus forty degrees. Pull it out of a mud pit, and it would shoot right away.
After testing it on the range, the military evaluator's hands were shaking.
"General... this gun is insane."
"Who designed it?"
"A... death row inmate."
"What did he do?"
"Embezzlement, and... murder."
Narrative writing is more like an outline