In the dim, damp prison, several villagers from Panshan Village, including Qin Wu, lay in despair, waiting for fate to decide their lot.
"Brother Wu, do you think we can still go home?" A young man in his twenties asked, his eyes lifeless as he lay on the cold ground, blankly staring at the small window on the prison wall.
Qin Wu's face was stern, his lips pursed; he didn't speak.
The young man suddenly laughed foolishly: "Yu Niang is still waiting at home for me to return. I wonder if she's gotten used to living with us since she just married into our family?"
At those words, a guilty conscience appeared on Qin Wu's face.
"Stop talking, Thirteen!"
Someone spoke up to stop him. The more Qin Thirteen said, the more they all suffered, the more they longed to return home.
After a while, a slightly older and larger man moved next to Qin Wu: "Old Wu, do you think Xiaoliu can come up with a way to save us?"
