I bought a prison in the United States.

6:25 a.m.

"Ding ding ding—!"

The dull sound of copper bells bounced back and forth between the concrete walls, signaling the start of a workday.

This time, Wade will add three words after it: "Everyone".

When Hamon told him about it yesterday, his first reaction was the same as Hamon's – disbelief.

It sounds simple to make all prisoners work by force, but how could the prison guards possibly manage so many people?

To get them to work, the incentive of points is actually greater, because it's a positive motivator.

But not all prisoners are enthusiastic; often, the only way to get them to work is with a whip!

But inside, there's a ferocious tiger that you can't fight...

Through the iron bars, Wade saw that Ghost Fang was still lying on the lower bunk, facing the wall.

The blanket was crumpled up and piled at his feet, and the pillow was askew to one side. He could tell at a glance that Guiya's breathing was unusually steady.

A person who is truly asleep will have subtle fluctuations in their breathing, rather than breathing in a uniform way that seems to be deliberately simulating the state of "sleeping".

Wade took a deep breath and walked to Ghost Fang's cell.

"Rivera!"

The ghost tooth didn't budge. Wade wrote the letter P on the board and continued walking forward.

His steps didn't falter, and his expression remained unchanged, but only he knew that his hands had been trembling.

No one noticed this detail.

In prison, noticing details that shouldn't be noticed is a dangerous talent.

The roll call lasted about ten minutes, with 63 names called and 61 responses. Afterwards, the students were sent to the cafeteria for a meal.

As Wade passed by the exercise yard, he saw several sparrows fighting over a piece of bread on the concrete ground.

The bread crust had been pecked to pieces, but the sparrows were still fighting over it.

In prison, anything edible is worth fighting for.

Jerome came to the cafeteria today, his first time in six days.

He sat in the corner with a bowl of oatmeal in front of him, and his fingers were no longer trembling as they had been a few days ago.

Tommy took his coffee cup and sat down opposite Jerome.

How are you feeling today?

"I'm feeling better." Jerome's complexion had returned to normal. "I didn't dream last night."

"That's fine."

Tommy didn't ask anything more; in prison, not asking is a deeper form of concern.

Because asking a question means the other person has to answer it, and answering it means bringing up things that they don't want to touch on again.

Not asking gives the other party the right to keep those things buried.

Jerome lowered his head, looked at the grayish-white oatmeal in the bowl, and suddenly said:

"Marianna used to cook oatmeal porridge in the mornings, but she didn't cook it like this."

"She said oatmeal porridge shouldn't just consist of oats and water, otherwise it will taste like chewing cardboard."

"You actually picked one?"

Tommy wondered if Jerome wanted to work in the kitchen.

"No, what I meant was that I thought she was too picky back then. Oatmeal is just oatmeal; as long as it fills your stomach, that's fine."

"Now I understand, she wasn't being particular, she was just living life as it is."

Jerome's voice trailed off, "But I didn't understand back then."

At the other end of the cafeteria, the "mayor" sat in his usual spot. He had finished his breakfast, his tray was pushed aside, and the book "The Shining" was open in front of him.

Although he was facing the book, his peripheral vision seemed to be scanning a radar screen that only he could see.

He was staring at the people with Ghost Fang.

The three dogs ate their breakfast quietly, but perhaps a little too quietly.

The marks on Xiao Dao's neck from when Carlos choked him that day were still there; a purplish-red bruise stretched from his Adam's apple all the way up to his collarbone.

His right hand remained under the table.

Marcus's gaze lingered on that spot for a moment, and he tapped the cover of The Shining lightly twice with his fingers.

Then he closed the book, stood up, and carried the tray to the recycling window.

He stopped as he passed Wade.

"Third floor of Sector D... Someone might need to go to the medical room today."

Wade didn't turn his head, nor did he make any expression indicating that he had heard.

He simply switched the coffee cup from his hand to his left, a seemingly unintentional action that, among the veteran prison guards, was a signal:

"Received, I will keep that in mind."

Marcus continued walking forward, placed the tray in the recycling window, and then walked back to the cell block.

Breakfast ended at 7:30.

The prisoners began to leave the canteen in batches.

The factory group went to the factory, the kitchen group went to the kitchen, and the regular group went back to their cells or to the exercise yard.

The process of diverting prisoners is a designed assembly line that moves each prisoner to a predetermined location at a predetermined time.

This is the essence of prison management: turning human behavior into a predictable process.

A predictable prisoner is just a cog in a machine, but an unpredictable prisoner can be a rat that chews through electrical wires.

Wade stood at the entrance of the cafeteria, watching the flow of people pass by him.

His gaze lingered on each prisoner for no more than two seconds.

But in those two seconds, there are many things to consider.

Is this person walking the same way as yesterday? Where are their hands placed? What are their eyes looking at?

He wished everything could be the same as yesterday, but today three people were walking strangely.

Xiao Dao always drags his feet when he walks, and the soles of his shoes make a rustling sound as they rub against the ground.

But today, he and the two behind him walked even lighter, landing on their heels first.

This is the pace of a person who is ready to change direction or accelerate at any time.

The steps of someone preparing for a fight.

Carlos, one of Blue Snake's henchmen, has changed his walking posture today.

He usually walks with his head held high and his chin slightly raised, like a rooster ready to fight.

But today he deliberately bent over with his hands in his pockets, which made people wonder if he had something in his pockets.

The third person with a different gait was Jerome.

He usually walks with his head down and shoulders tucked in, trying to make himself as small as possible so that no one will notice him.

Although he kept his head down today, he took larger steps than usual, but these can still be explained.

A person who has just recovered from a long period of torment begins to relearn how to occupy a place in the world.

Wade kept all of this in mind, but didn't write it down on the whiteboard.

Some information is not suitable for being recorded in writing.

He stored them in a certain part of his brain, along with similar information accumulated over the past eight years.

When Guiya walked out of the cafeteria, his steps were exactly the same as yesterday, and he looked harmless. He even gave Wade a smile as he passed by.

Wade watched Ghost Fang disappear into the shadows at the end of the corridor.

Then he picked up his coffee cup, took a sip, and found it very bitter.