Zhang Ziwen, who had been holed up in a small solitary cell for nearly three days after the riot, felt an alienation when he returned to the surface. The joy of treating prison as a vacation was no longer there. He was filled with self-deprecating, absurd self-comfort.
The weather was bleak that day. The sky was grey and the ground was piled with snow from a blizzard. Everywhere was blanketed in white, from rooftops to treetops. Zhang Ziwen inhaled deeply the cold air that felt refreshing and invigorating. He was free, for now. The enormous iron gates of the federal prison opened one after another under the escort of two prison officers. Was this the last gate? Zhang Ziwen's heartbeat started to race. Would the beautiful Tang Ying be waiting for him outside?
