The picture gave off a tragic atmosphere!
Zhang Ye’s foot was cuffed and he had reached out, using a small stone to write the last period for “Prisoner’s Song” on the wall. In front of him, none of the text of “Prisoner’s Song” was blocked. It was presented clearly, and with the dim lighting, and that empty, small, dark room, the entire atmosphere matched that poem perfectly!
“They still haven’t released him?”
“This is too infuriating! This is too infuriating!”
“What a good ‘Prisoner’s Song’! What a good shall live with fire and warm blood ever after!”