That afternoon, Xiao Chen followed Li Hang to the place where Dong Zhi was detained.
Standing outside the high walls, looking at this place completely wrapped in barbed wire, Xiao Chen's inner rage was furiously burning.
Just because Dong Zhi stood up for him and merely slapped Hai Xi, he ended up in such a pitiful state.
Xiao Chen didn't know how Dong Zhi was doing.
The iron gate opened.
Xiao Chen walked in, and the people inside respectfully showed him the way.
Within the high walls, a skinny Dong Zhi, reduced to just skin and bones, numbly engraved marks on the wall.
Those scratches had become too numerous to count.
He did one every day to precisely calculate how long he had been inside.
Fate was too unjust towards him, yet he could only accept it.
The reason he hadn't died yet was only because he worried about his parents.
His parents were already getting old, both in their fifties; he really didn't know how many more years they had.
