Restrictive Zone

RA 4 - Baton

Right as Jiang Chijing finished speaking, the nearest-seated fraudster started to toady up to him, greeting, "Afternoon, sir, afternoon." With the way that he said it, he was just short of offering up a pack of smokes.

In prison, a portion of the inmates would ingratiate themselves with the guards; the fraudster before him was obviously a textbook example.

Jiang Chijing had no personal opinion about such behaviour. He would do favours or make things easy for a few inmates from time to time, but his criteria for that wasn't based on whether the other had sucked up to him, but based on his own unique standard for judging good and evil.

"Open up the prison rulebook in front of you."

Jiang Chijing moved back to the whiteboard, turning over to take a marker and writing on the board in striking letters: 'Obey the Officers.'

Contrary to his soft and delicate appearance, Jiang Chijing's handwriting was bold and vigorous, his strokes beautifully written, causing the words to appear even more imposing. But only Jiang Chijing knew how much effort it was taking him to maintain a calm facade.

That guy named Zheng Mingyi didn't open his book. His two hands remained perched on his legs, his gaze chasing after and never deviating from Jiang Chijing's face.

On the night that he was almost exposed, Jiang Chijing had felt this gaze before, and back then he had managed to hide behind the curtains in time. However, the situation now didn't allow him to evade again.

"1017." Jiang Chijing swept a gaze over the number on Zheng Mingyi's prison uniform. "I asked you to open the book in front of you."

The two men held in a deadlock for a split second that seemed stretched on for an age before Zheng Mingyi finally spoke, not moving a finger. "You read, I'll listen."

It was a flat, even tone, his attitude neither servile nor overbearing, at a pitch slightly deeper than what Jiang Chijing had expected.

Here was the second classic type of inmate, who would place themselves on equal standing as the prison guards.

There were two extremities that those tended to fall into—either they were reasonable and genial, never stirring trouble; else, extremely dangerous and once offended, became wildly unpredictable.

Jiang Chijing was inclined to categorise Zheng Mingyi in the latter, but it wasn't the time now to dwell on this question.

He averted his gaze, using the marker to tap the whiteboard, continuing, "There are three chances in life to receive an education. First, from your family; second, from schooling. If these two chances weren't able to teach you the right path, that's fine. You still have your third chance. Prison."

Most people only had a vague concept of good and evil. They knew what they could and couldn't do, but there was also a murky grey area in between.

But Jiang Chijing had a perfectly cohesive concept of good and evil. Just like how he spied on others without authorisation, he should do some good deeds accordingly to recompense for it. If a convicted felon who had committed a crime didn't show any intention to redress, then he would classify them as wicked.

In a nutshell, the attitude that Jiang Chijing showed the bad eggs was very discourteous.

"Sir." The thug who hadn't said anything until now suddenly pointed to a line in his book. "Help me take a look, what does this mean?"

Faint surprise flashed in Jiang Chijing's eyes. He walked over to him, tilting his head to read what the thug pointed at, only to see that four words were written there plain as day: insult the prison guards.