A massive fist hammered heavily against the glass wall, producing booming thuds. Jiang Hao's cell was separated from The Rock's by only a passageway, less than ten feet away. He could hear it clearly, and watching the glass wall darken, he felt it tremble with every blow.
After nearly half an hour of thrashing, it finally stopped. He had probably run out of strength, and only then did things grow quiet.
Jiang Hao returned to his bed and lay down. Other than eating, all he did now was sit around with nothing to do. Cultivation had become his best weapon for passing the time.
In his daze, Jiang Hao heard a string of knocks. They were not loud, but he heard them clearly.
"Tap tap tap~tap, tap tap~tap tap."
After listening for a few beats, Jiang Hao froze slightly. He was very familiar with that rhythm: Morse code, the plain code used for telegraphs. He had learned it in another world. Jiang Hao listened closely, and his mind automatically translated the signals into words.
"Tap~tap tap~tap, tap~tap tap tap."
"I Want to Live With You, in some little town, sharing endless dusks and the ceaseless ringing of bells. In an inn in that little town—the faint sound of an ancient clock chiming, like time gently falling drop by drop..."
It was a poem. Jiang Hao knew it—one by the Russian poet Tsvetaeva, titled I Want to Live With You. Beautiful, with a faint touch of sorrow.
The darkness filled The Rock with a deep, instinctive fear. Though he had been through countless things, he still hated the dark. His fist slammed against the glass wall again and again, but the thick, sturdy glass did not suffer the slightest damage.
After an unknown amount of time, The Rock was panting from