Chapter 1: Reincarnation in Prison

  Early winter, Shangrao ancient city.

  The sky is bright, the orange sunrise rises slowly from the distant mountain top in the east, and the mottled light shines through the thin fog that has dispersed, illuminating the earth.

  Warm sunlight passes through the narrow ventilation opening high on the prison stone wall, spilling into the dark and damp official prison cell. The prisoners who have been silent for a night gradually wake up. Several dirty and lousy prisoners subconsciously lift their heads, half-opening their turbid eyes, staring blankly at the dazzling light beam that shoots in from the ventilation opening.

  The iron gate at the entrance of the corridor outside the cell block creaked open with a piercing metallic screech, and all the clamor ceased, filling the entire space that was filled with mold and stench with an eerie silence.

  The footsteps of two young prison guards approached from afar, while a middle-aged guard slowly made his way in, carrying two wooden buckets that swayed back and forth. The dirty wooden buckets filled with thin gruel were roughly placed in front of the iron bars of two cells. The prisoners inside, who looked like starving ghosts, began to stir restlessly. Pairs of eyes with different expressions suddenly gleamed with a green light, all focusing on the wooden buckets that still emitted hot steam outside the iron bars. However, under the disgusted gaze of the two young guards, no one dared to make any sudden movements.

  Finally, the two young prison guards who had been yelling and scolding turned to leave. The nearly hundred prisoners in the two cells couldn't wait any longer and surged forward, their arms, covered in grime, squeezed through the iron bars that had been polished until they shone, each one stretching out a broken bowl.

  "Get out of here!"

  "Ahhh... Owwww..."

  "Shut up, you son of a bitch... I'll beat you to death..."

  The sound of beating, the cry of pain, and the voice of begging kept ringing out. The middle-aged prison guard who delivered food was deaf to it all, his hands busy clattering with the long-handled wooden ladle and bucket, as he distributed the thin gruel filled with rotten vegetable leaves and rice bran into each bowl.

  Those who got the rice porridge with vegetable leaves quickly retreated, getting away from the crowd of people fighting over food. Those who didn't get any porridge could only look on with pleading eyes, pitifully watching the prison elder distributing the food.

  Half a time unit had passed, the prisoners who should be making trouble were making trouble, those who should be lying down were lying down, several fierce heavy-duty prisoners finished their thin porridge, and contentedly dragged their long chains back and forth, all around them coughing sounds and spitting sounds continued without end, in this way a new day began in the prison cell.

  In the second cell to the right of the stone wall, a young prisoner finally woke up from his torpor, lying on the filthy straw. His swollen eye sockets were like heavy iron curtains that could hardly be opened, and the scabbed blood stuck his eyelashes together. Lice crawled incessantly around his collar.

  "Didn't die?"

  "Still alive, tough life..."

  The bespectacled man carefully wiped the blood stains and wounds on the young man's face with a handkerchief, occasionally sighing pitifully. Another strong young man picked up half a bowl of thin porridge hidden in the straw pile and slowly fed it into the half-dead young man's mouth.

  In the damp and gloomy cell of early winter, the prisoners were scattered all over, shivering on the moldy-smelling straw, their tattered clothes fluttering in the wind. Those leaning against the wall hung their heads low, occasionally exchanging a few words while tremblingly turning up their pants to catch lice, and with each catch, they would send it into their mouths, biting the tiny lice with a crunching sound, their expressions as comfortable as chewing fennel seeds.

  The sunlight that had been slanting in through the high ventilation window and illuminating the dark and gloomy prison cell was gradually fading, and it was now possible to make out objects clearly.

  A middle-aged man wearing a pair of black-rimmed glasses bent down, carefully examining the bandages wrapped around the young man's broken arm. He patted his hands to tidy himself up, noticing that his long shirt was now shorter by a large margin. Letting out a deep sigh, he leaned against the wall behind him and gazed out at the iron bars, shaking his head at the sight of an old wooden bucket lying on its side and the messy scene before him.

  On the other side, a burly man with a thick beard and rough skin picked up a handful of straw, carefully placed it under the young prisoner's head, straightened his two curled legs, looked around and then stepped over the young prisoner's body, sat down beside the scholar with a thud.

  "This young man's life is big, last night when he was thrown back by the prison guard, his left arm was broken, not to mention that there were four holes opened on his head, more air came out than went in, and his pulse could hardly be felt. I thought he wouldn't make it through the night, but unexpectedly he's still alive today, not only has his pulse become much stronger, but his breathing has also slowed down and become even. What a strange thing! This kind of hard bone is rarely seen, maybe he's... "

  The middle-aged scholar waved his hand and looked at the young man who was breathing evenly, saying in a low voice: "Qing Song, when Old Chen Shu comes in to clean up later, please ask him to find out the identity of this young man, what crime he committed to be locked up? Where is he from? The more detailed the better."

  "Alright."

  Qing Song's voice was low: "Right, Mr. Zhang, Old Uncle Chen said that Yiyang is already under our team's control, I wonder when it will be our turn to fight?"

  Mr. Zhang glanced around and leaned in close to Qing Song, speaking in a low voice: "The workers' and peasants' armed forces led by Secretary Fang have grown rapidly, and it's only a matter of time before they capture the entire Zhejiang-Gansu border region, starting from Shangrao. Next, they will surely join forces with the main troops of Jiangxi, Guangdong, and Fujian. Alas! If we hadn't been captured by mistake, who knows, we might have already returned to Yiyang and led our troops to attack cities and seize strongholds together with Secretary Fang."

  Qingsong excitedly rubbed his big hands, and after a while, he comforted Mr. Zhang instead: "Don't worry, sir! In my opinion, the comrades from Zhejiang-Gansu Special Committee and Yiyang County Committee must have received news of our capture and will definitely think of ways to rescue us."

  Mr. Zhang helplessly adjusted his glasses: "It's all because I wasn't vigilant enough, the liaison station was destroyed and we didn't discover anything unusual in time, which got you and me stuck in this prison cell together."

  "No! To think of it, I'm the one who's most at fault. I was too careless, and Little Horse died unjustly!" Qing Song's eyes turned red.

  "Shh... be quiet!"

  Mr. Zhang looked around at the surrounding prisoners, adjusted his glasses and leaned back against the mottled stone wall, closing his eyes to rest for a moment before opening them again: "Fortunately, our identities have not been exposed. If Old Uncle Chen's information is correct, Secretary Fang's troops will definitely attack within these two days. The top priority now is to contact Secretary Fang as soon as possible and obtain the exact time of their attack on Shangrao. At the same time, we must also make preparations, intensify our connections and mobilize the reliable class brothers in prison, telling everyone that rather than lingering on in a daze waiting for death, it's better to unite and take a chance. As long as we can escape from this prison, we can go out and vigorously participate in the revolution, dividing up land and engaging in revolutionary activities."

  "I understand."

  Qing Song finished speaking and turned around, quietly moving to the edge of the iron railing, silently watching the middle-aged prison guard who was collecting empty wooden buckets outside the iron railing.

  The middle-aged prison guard seemed to be unaware, picked up the wooden bucket outside the adjacent cell and hung it on the carrying pole, only then slowly turned around, taking the opportunity to squat down and collect the wooden bucket, and whispered with Qing Song through the iron bars. After the middle-aged prison guard left, Qing Song returned to Mr. Zhang's side and reported in a low voice.

  As the sun sets, the light in the cell gradually darkens. The iron gate outside the cell opens again and a middle-aged prison guard slowly walks in with two buckets of rice bran vegetable peels porridge. The scene of prisoners wailing, scolding, and fighting for food is replayed once more.

  After the commotion, the cell gradually quieted down again as it had in the morning. Under Mr. Zhang's careful care, the young prisoner struggled to drink a bowl of hot porridge and finally opened his swollen eyelids, making a hoarse voice: "Thank you..."

  Mr. Zhang was taken aback, and immediately helped the young man who was about to get up: "No need to thank me, we're all fellow drifters, haha! It's good that you're awake, it's good that you're awake!"

  On the other side, Qing Song picked up a bowl of murky soup from the edge and handed it to the young man with enthusiasm: "Drink up, little brother, this is specially left for you. You're weak, drink up and rest well, I reckon you'll feel better tomorrow."

  Young man, after drinking more than half a bowl of still warm vegetable and rice soup, was pressed down by Mr. Zhang to lie on the straw: "Little brother, your surname is Wu, and you live in Wujiacun Village, Huanggu Town, Chengbei, right?"

  The young man stared blankly at Mr. Zhang's gentle face, unable to utter a single word in response.

  Mr. Zhang smiled kindly and said, "Don't panic, I just heard about your situation, I know you're an oppressed poor brother, because you offended the local tyrants in Huanggu Town, so you were framed and put in prison, only, I don't know what Wu brother's name is?"

  "My name is Wu Ming."

  Young people often answer almost subconsciously.

  Mr. Zhang was taken aback for a moment: "Nameless? Oh, your surname is Wu, this name has meaning, it's the bright 'ming' right?"

  "Remembering 'engraving'."

  Wu Ming finished speaking and immediately felt that something was wrong. In his panic, he wanted to sit up, but as soon as he moved slightly, the pain from all over his body made him shudder uncontrollably.

  Mr. Zhang hastily bent down to support Wu Ming, leaning against the wall and sitting properly, and carefully placed a small bundle of straw from his side on his waist: "Little brother, I've never heard that Huanggu Town has **, even in the whole Shangrao area, I haven't heard that anywhere **made revolution, but you were imprisoned for committing a crime with the Communist Party, which shouldn't be the case. What's going on? Can you tell me?"

  Wu Ming struggled to sort out the chaotic memories that had been flooding his mind since he woke up, and it was hard for him to believe the unbelievable scene in front of him. This was completely different from the prison where he was previously detained, but he didn't know how to explain everything in front of him.

  He was too rigid, or so to speak, cautious, and refused to sign the supervision report of the project, which angered the powerful corrupt group and was framed and imprisoned. However, when he was first taken away by the police car to be detained, it was called Pan Yang Detention Center, not this dirty cell!

  In his memory, the Pan Yang detention center had simple facilities, but the walls of the cells were made of mud and embedded with ceramic tiles. The cold iron bars were of good quality, surveillance cameras were installed on the walls, explosion-proof lamps were installed on the ceiling, and rough toilets and faucets were in the corner... Ah! And those several inmates who beat themselves up every day, as well as the corrupt police officers who occasionally appeared outside the iron window with a cold gaze. But it was not this dirty cell that looked like a pigsty, nor was there such a large group of shabbily dressed prisoners.

  Everything before his eyes made Wu Ming, who had just woken up, shocked and confused, thinking hard but not knowing how to face it, finally closing his eyes painfully, lying on the straw and moaning helplessly.

  "Alas! The wound is quite deep."

  Mr. Zhang sighed and could only give up, using a piece of cloth with Qing Song to carefully wipe the wound that was bleeding from Wu Ming's "faint".

  。。。。。。

  The next morning, the prisoners in the cell were still asleep, while Wu Ming, who had woken up early, stared blankly at the dark ceiling, deep in painful thought, completely unaware that Mr. Zhang and Qing Song, lying beside him, hadn't slept all night, anxiously waiting for a dramatic change.

  The first cry of the cock had just stopped, and distant shots came from afar. In less than half a bowl of tea time, the sound of guns suddenly rang out outside the prison cell, five terrified jailers holding lanterns rushed in, amidst the terrified cries of the prisoners, they pulled the gun bolts, scaring the prisoners into a chaotic mess.

  "Boom——"

  A deafening explosion shook the corridor as a grenade went off, followed by intense flashes of light. Nearly half of the prisoners were knocked to the ground, screaming in terror. Amidst the sound of gunfire and explosions, several torches flew into the corridor. In an instant, more than half of the guards who had been resisting were shot down, but two of the attackers were also hit by the guards' return fire. The stray bullets ricocheted off the stone walls of the cells, sparking a flurry of sparks.

  In the chaos, a batch of straw in the first cell was ignited, and the entire space was suddenly illuminated. A remaining prison guard retreated to the iron bars in front of the second cell, frantically opening the gun bolt and quickly loading bullets.

  The green pine that had been crouching beside Wu Ming suddenly sprang up, pouncing on the prison guard who was about to shoot through the iron bars. Two black hands passed through the gap in the iron bars, grasping the neck of the resisting guard, letting out a loud roar and exerting great force, tearing the guard's head off with a fierce motion.

  Two jets of blood shot out from the bloody neck, "puchi puchi" and splashed Wu Ming's head and face, who was already terrified...

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