Three hours in the morning, three hours in the afternoon, every prisoner in the Special Prison had to ensure six hours of labor daily.
Except for the A-level prisoners, whose only task was to stay in their own ten-square-meter small rooms to silently reflect. Occasionally, if the prison guards were in a good mood, they might bring them some small trinkets to pass the time.
After crossing off another day's time, Jiang Shu followed Clo back to the dormitory, where they sat on the edge of the bed, one folding paper, the other watching the paper folding.
A square sheet of paper, Clo was folding leisurely, each step simple and effortlessly graceful, but from somewhere along the steps, Jiang Shu suddenly could not understand anymore.
"See, quantitative change can lead to qualitative change," Clo remarked with a light chuckle, noticing Jiang Shu's bewildered look.
"Shut up," said Jiang Shu, looking over at Clo's bedside table.
