The heavy shackles dragged on the hard ground and across the books, making a clattering sound. The musty smell of Xia Tian hadn't yet dissipated, and the damp corridor had become unbearably cold. The early north wind howled in through the square holes in the corridor walls, chilling Zhao Pengcheng's thin frame and making him shiver.
Although the prison had issued winter uniforms, they only provided the outerwear, not what you wore underneath. The clothes were very thin and couldn't withstand the harsh winter cold. Zhao Pengcheng had no family to send him warm clothes, nor did he have the money to buy any. The guards reported his situation, and according to regulations, he was eligible for assistance. The prison leadership reviewed Zhao Pengcheng's documents, knowing he was an educated man and a former excellent surgeon, and asked him to write an application for assistance along with a statement of repentance.
This is a huge opportunity for an inmate. Being asked to write a confession often means a reduced sentence. If the confession is well-written, the prison may even make the inmate a model prisoner and grant him many preferential treatments.
Zhao Pengcheng was a top student and had worked in a major hospital for many years. Writing a confession or even a thesis would be a piece of cake for him, let alone just writing a confession. But he was reluctant to do it. Confess? Confess to what? And he didn't care much about whether his sentence would be reduced. How many years could it be reduced by? Just from a suspended death sentence to life imprisonment.
Seeing his attitude, the warden was both anxious and angry, and scolded him with a hint of disappointment, "Is it really that hard to type a few words on the computer?"
When Zhao Pengcheng heard that he could use a computer to write the report, his attitude immediately changed 180 degrees, and he readily agreed. So he followed the guard, dragging his heavy shackles, through the corridor he had never walked before, toward the prison's computer room.
The computer room is newly built. Wuzhong Prison is piloting reforms to keep the prison up with the times, provide inmates with modern education, and allow those with the means to use computers for learning. Unlike the old computer labs, where inmates were generally not allowed to operate the equipment, or if they did, it was strictly according to procedures, the computer room is a place where inmates can use computers independently.
According to the prison's plan, future labor reform will also include some work in this area, instead of just sewing buttons and clothes. For example, prisoners could be involved in games, writing novels, ghostwriting, or posting on forums. It is said that some places are already doing this.
Now that the computer room was built, it couldn't be wasted. Wealthy prisoners could pay to use the computers, just like in an internet cafe. Of course, the prison computer room couldn't access the external network freely; they could only access the prison's intranet. The intranet's speed was very slow. Apart from some legal education videos and text materials that were publicly available, they could only chat and exchange reform experiences on the internal forum. But even that, everyone enjoyed it. As for secretly playing Minesweeper and Super Mario on the computers in the corner, that was another, much more profound subject of computer science and moral conduct.
Zhao Pengcheng entered the computer room and saw a few people sitting sparsely inside. The room was guarded by prison guards; the warden spoke a few words to one of the guards and then left. The guard then led Zhao Pengcheng to a computer, had him sit down, and asked:
Do you know how to use a computer?
"Yes." Zhao Pengcheng nodded.
The prison guard said, "You're only here to write reports. You haven't paid for internet access, so you can only write reports, you can't do anything else, do you hear me!"
"Yes, Instructor," Zhao Pengcheng replied, then expertly turned on the computer. While waiting for it to boot up, he casually asked, "Is there internet access here?"
He thought the prison guard wouldn't answer, or would impatiently scold him, but to his surprise, the guard was very patient and said kindly, "Yes, you can access it as long as you pay, but only the internal network."
How much does it cost?
"Fifty yuan an hour."
The blue progress bar on the monitor finally finished, and I entered the familiar Windows desktop. Although the desktop was clean with only two icons, it still felt welcoming.
"It costs several hundred yuan for just half a day, that's a bit expensive!" Zhao Peng said while operating the computer.
The prison guard wasn't annoyed, and said with a smile, "Well, it's only because you officers are capable of letting you out for so long!"
Zhao Pengcheng thought about it and agreed, so he stopped asking questions and created a new WPS document to start writing the application report and repentance materials.
Seeing that he was very skilled at using the computer and didn't seem to want to pay for internet access, the prison guard gave him a few instructions and left.
Zhao Pengcheng was writing his report very carefully, typing each word one by one, pausing from time to time to think. At first, the prison guards would occasionally come over and glance at it, but later, as the document became longer, he simply stopped bothering to look at it.
The application for winter clothing and a statement of repentance would normally only take two or three pages, but Zhao Pengcheng wasn't in a hurry to finish them.
He was waiting.
Although he himself didn't really know what he was waiting for.
Every detail of his meeting with Qingmu still lingers in Zhao Pengcheng's mind. Having lived two lives, he can no longer figure out who he truly is, or which world is real. The present him, the past him, the him in his dreams, the him in his dreams within dreams, and the him before he became Zhao Pengcheng —which one is the real him?
Zhao Pengcheng agreed to Qingmu's cooperation proposal. In the instant that prison guard collapsed and died, there was no turning back.
Of course, cooperation doesn't mean he's a traitor or that he has to help humanity. He has his own plans. Now, he's learned to hide his thoughts from both humanity and the organization.
As for Qingmu, he had considered that since it was a collaboration, he should be selective in telling him, and there had to be at least an equivalent exchange. Of course, he understood that with Qingmu's strength, the chances of him being on equal footing with him were slim, but he trusted him. Moreover, it was precisely because he had such a powerful partner that he had the confidence to confront other powerful beings and to think about things he had never dared to even consider before.
Zhao Pengcheng is now increasingly able to understand Qingmu and what he said—this world is a mystery, and they live to unravel the mystery, not to live for any particular race.
Under the circumstances, although they reached a consensus on the intention to cooperate, they did not have time to discuss specific plans. Qingmu only gave him some vague hints, such as how to contact him in the future. This was for the best; Zhao Pengcheng had his own ideas and did not want to be controlled by others at every turn.
Just as he was writing on the fifth line of the fifth page of his report, something strange happened.
The cursor on the WPS document suddenly started blinking, and then it began to automatically type text. Zhao Pengcheng was quite certain that he was in a pause to think at that moment, and his fingers were not touching the keyboard.
At first, he thought there was something wrong with the computer. However, when the automatically entered text formed the first complete sentence, he immediately realized what had happened.
He quickly put his hands back on the keyboard, moving his fingers left and right to match the increasing text on the document, pretending to type.