I bought a prison in the United States.

This is the root of their conflict.

"Blue Snake" still has powerful backers in prison, but "Ghost Fang" does not.

"Blue Snake" knows that even if he stays here for the rest of his life, the organization will take care of his family.

But the 18th Street Gang wouldn't keep his place for "Ghost Fang." He had already been replaced by someone else, and no one outside was waiting for him to return.

One is someone who still has things to lose, and the other is someone who has nothing left to lose.

The conflict between them was destined from the very beginning.

"Ghost Fang" turned his gaze away from the water tower, turned around, and looked at the other prisoners in the exercise yard.

The three dogs were squatting not far away, drawing something on the ground with a twig.

Several Latino prisoners were smoking and chatting on the other side of the barbed wire fence.

Two Black men were doing push-ups in a corner.

An elderly white man sat in the sun against the wall, even though there was no sun at all today.

No one dared to approach "Ghost Fang".

They all knew that what happened this morning was not over yet.

Whatever the content of what "Blue Snake" said at the cafeteria entrance was, it was definitely a provocation.

The silence of "Ghost Fang" is not a retreat, but rather an accumulation of strength.

The storm has not yet arrived.

The "mayor" stood in the corridor of the prison ward, leaning against the wall, holding a half-open copy of "The Shining".

His attention wasn't on the pages of the book, but rather on the crowds coming and going in the corridor.

After breakfast, most of the prisoners were taken to the workshop or exercise yard, which made the cell block empty.

But some people remain here, some are sick, or some are in confinement.

"Oh, thank you!"

"Fuck you!"

An argument could be heard coming from the end of the corridor.

Marcus closed the book, his face showing no surprise, and walked toward the direction of the sound.

The altercation occurred near cell number 28, which is also "Demon Fang's" cell.

The two prisoners stood facing each other, so close they were almost touching.

One of them is "Ghost Fang," the youngest of the three dogs, nicknamed "Little Knife."

The other one is "Blue Snake," a bald man named Carlos.

They were fighting over a pack of cigarettes.

Smoking is prohibited in prisons, but cigarettes have never been truly banned.

They entered through various channels: smuggled in during visits, sold privately by prison guards, and even thrown over barbed wire from the outside.

A pack of Marlboro cigarettes that sells for 120 cents outside can fetch $10 inside, sometimes even more.

Cigarettes are the hard currency in prison, more practical than points and more immediate than sentence reduction.

Only a very small portion of the money in the hands of prisoners comes from their labor wages; most of it comes from remittances from their families outside the prison.

Most of those imprisoned here come from ordinary families with limited disposable income. Cigarettes are in high demand and short supply here, making them a luxury item in prison.

"Little Knife" shouted, his neck turning bright red:

"Get lost, you idiot! I got this pack of cigarettes first!"

Carlos was equally unyielding:

"My people paid first, go cry to your mother!"

Neither of them was willing to back down, and a dozen or so prisoners had already gathered around to watch the spectacle.

As Marcus approached, the crowd automatically parted to make way for him.

The prisoners knew that when he came over, it meant the matter was over.

"What happened?"

Marcus's deep voice was clearly audible to everyone present.

"mayor……"

"Little Knife" and Carlos spoke at the same time, each vying to explain their version to him.

"Alright!"

Marcus raised a hand, and the two of them fell silent at the same time.

He glanced at the bag of Marlboro cigarettes, which was crumpled from being squeezed so tightly. The red wrapper had a tear, revealing the white cigarettes inside.

"How much is this pack of cigarettes?"

"Ten yuan."

Carlos said.

"I paid twelve dollars!"

"Little Knife" immediately retorted.

Marcus pondered for a moment, then extended his hand:

Give me the cigarette.

The two hesitated for a moment, then "Little Knife" let go first, and Carlos followed suit.

Marcus took the crumpled bag of Marlboro cigarettes in his hand and turned it over to look at the bottom.

"This pack of cigarettes is fake."

He held up his cigarette so that people around him could see the stamped logo on the bottom.

"The stamp on genuine Marlboro cigarettes is raised, but this one is printed on."

"The cigarettes inside aren't Marlboro; they're loose cigarettes rolled in bulk, repackaged in genuine packaging boxes."

"Outside, these fake cigarettes sell for a maximum of 80 cents. Some people sell them as real cigarettes, and some people buy them as real cigarettes."

"You two have both been fooled."

"Little Knife" and Carlos looked at each other in bewilderment.

Marcus threw the cigarettes back to them.

"If you want to fight over a pack of fake cigarettes, that's your business."

"But if you start fighting, the prison guards will lock down the entire cell block for three days."

"No fresh air for three days, no canteen for three days, food is delivered to the cell."

"Ask the people around you if they'd be willing to spend three days in jail because of you two idiots and a pack of fake cigarettes."

Someone in the crowd chimed in agreement.

The two looked at each other, their eyes filled with hesitation and helplessness.

They didn't actually want to fight, but under the watchful eyes of their respective leaders, they had to put on a tough front.

Now Marcus has given them a way out, a reason to back down without losing face.

"Take the matter with the cigarette seller yourselves, and don't cause trouble here!"

After Marcus finished speaking, he turned and left.

The crowd gradually dispersed.

"Little Knife" and Carlos walked in different directions, neither of them glancing at the other again.

The crumpled bag of counterfeit Marlboro cigarettes was left on the ground, lying forlornly in the pale white light cast by the fluorescent lamp.

Marcus walked back to where he had been standing, leaned against the wall again, and opened The Shining.

He turned to the page he had read before, but did not continue reading.

This matter is not over yet.

The conflict between "Little Knife" and Carlos is just a symptom, like Foster's leg that aches when the weather changes.

The real problem lies deeper, in the conflict between the interests represented by "Ghost Fang" and "Blue Snake".

Today it might be a pack of counterfeit cigarettes, tomorrow it could be a sharp knife, a sharpened toothbrush handle, or a bed sheet tightly bound in the exercise yard.

He might be able to stop it the first time, but he might not be able to stop it the second time. However, if he sees it, he still has to step in and act as a peacemaker.

This was certainly not because he had any affection for the prison, nor because he wanted to curry favor with the guards in exchange for a reduced sentence.

His sentence is 15 years, he has already served 6 years, and has 9 years left.

As long as he doesn't cause any major trouble, he can apply for parole in four years.

All he needed to do was make sure the prison didn't blow up in front of him for the next four years.

The "mayor" lowered his head and resumed reading.

Stephen King wrote in the book:

"Sometimes, survival itself is a victory."