"Buddy, you look to be about twenty-five or twenty-six now, you can't say you've spent your life just guarding doors and prison cells, even if your boss wants to promote you, it's just to expand your horizons to guard toilets. Think about it, if you spend your life just flitting between a few gates, aren't you worse off than me? Sure, I'm here to serve time, but you, you're never going to get enough of prison life."
In the gloomy and damp dungeon, Hou Jue sat on a pile of dry straw in a weird posture, his two knees propped against his chest looking like twin peaks, an unsightly sight to the extreme. But far from being ashamed, he rather enjoyed this sitting position and continued to prattle on to the pale-faced soldier:
