"Fourth Brother."
Chen Shaohu didn't know what Fourth Brother was thinking. He knocked off the last piece of ore and tossed it into the bamboo basket. Struggling to stand, he tilted his head to look up at Chen Jichuan.
This sixteen-year-old boy ultimately lacked the strength of Chen Jichuan.
"Come."
Chen Jichuan snapped out of his thoughts. He held the bamboo basket with both hands and pulled it up, allowing Chen Shaohu to borrow his strength and finally stand upright.
The two brothers moved in tandem.
Chen Shaohu walked ahead, Chen Jichuan followed behind, helping to steady Old Fifth's bamboo basket as they headed toward the overseer's office.
Along the way.
It wasn't just Chen Jichuan or Chen Shaohu.
Other miners were there too.
Some carried their baskets alone, others shouldered loads, and still others worked in pairs to lift their burdens.
"Fourth!"
"Fifth!"
Several familiar miners greeted the brothers with smiles when they saw them.
They were all miners.
The same stench, the same dusty grime.
No one looked down on anyone.
"Uncle Wang."
"Brother Zhao."
Chen Jichuan replied to each greeting with a smile.
The days in the "Black Prison" were indeed miserable, but after so many years, most miners had grown accustomed to it.
Life had to go on.
One couldn't live bitterly all day.
Besides.
The adults outside the "Black Prison" had granted a glimmer of hope—
If you worked for ten full years,
and your monthly performance didn't fall below two thousand pounds of ore,
you could be released from the Black Prison.
Ten years was a long time.
But it was still something to strive for.
For miners like Chen Jichuan and Chen Shaohu, who were among the first to arrive, that goal was now within sight.
Because of this.
Most miners now fervently hoped the Black Prison wouldn't change leadership again. If new "adults" arrived, who knew if this rule would still apply?
Ironically—
Chen Jichuan found himself thinking the same thing.
...
The overseer's office was located in the northern mining depot.
After a full day of work, going back and forth twice, each brother carried two hundred and ten pounds of ore, successfully completing the day's quota. The ten extra pounds added up over time, and whether used for rest or exchanged at the mining supervision office for food, vegetables, oil, salt, or even some meat, it was invaluable.
With the bamboo tokens in hand.
The brothers hurried back, discussing the overseer's words from earlier along the way.
"Fourth Brother."
"Why would we be suddenly moved to another mine when this one still has ore?"
Chen Shaohu sounded puzzled.
The mine they were in now was mostly an open-pit mine. It was easy to exploit and didn't have risks like cave-ins. It was considered good work.
Being transferred to another mine didn't necessarily mean safety.
Chen Jichuan also found it strange.
The overseer didn't explain, only instructed the miners from the northern area of Mine No. 19 to gather early the next morning and move to a new mine together.
"Maybe new arrivals are coming, and they need space."
Chen Jichuan couldn't think of any other reason.
In the "Black Prison," most mined the foul-smelling "Iron-repellent Ore." According to rumors from previous newcomers, this ore could be refined into "Iron-repellent" material—a substance overly rigid yet ideal for crafting arrowheads and spear tips.
In the Black Prison.
Aside from Iron-repellent Ore, they hadn't seen normal iron ore, silver ore, or gold ore—
Maybe there were other types of mines.
But Chen Jichuan hadn't seen any, or maybe the adults outside the Black Prison weren't interested in mining them.
So.
The possibility of switching ore types was unlikely.
In this case.
Shifting mines was most likely to make room for new arrivals.
Over the past six years.
Even though Chen Jichuan had been in the Black Prison, unaware of external events, he knew the chaos was ongoing. Order had not been fully restored, and large-scale wars occurred frequently. With each conflict, prisoners of war were captured, and many were sentenced to labor in the Black Prison.
Open-pit mines were easier to exploit.
Newcomers often started in open-pit mines, as they were easy to adapt to and minimized casualties.
"Newcomers?"
"Could it be that the Black Prison might change leadership again?"
Chen Shaohu suddenly froze, looking worriedly at his Fourth Brother.
"It's useless to worry about that."
Chen Jichuan shook his head and glanced at Chen Shaohu's slightly hunched figure, his old-looking face: "Go back and pack your things. Remember, tomorrow, no matter which mine they assign us to or what happens, do not stand out."
"I understand."
"The tallest nail gets hammered down first."
Chen Shaohu nodded in agreement, then winked mischievously at his Fourth Brother, whispering, "You need a life to look forward to anything, right?"
At this, Chen Jichuan couldn't help but laugh.
Old Fifth had been born into a corrupt clerk's family and grew up in the desolate despair of the Black Prison, watching one relative after another pass away. If left to his own devices, he would undoubtedly harbor a dark heart and despair of life.
Luckily.
Chen Jichuan, in his past life, had read countless Immortal Hero and fantasy stories, and over the years, he had tirelessly shared them with Chen Shaohu.
Within those fantastical tales, he sprinkled bits of personal "philosophy"—
Guiding him toward kindness, shaping his worldview.
He deliberately portrayed the protagonists as locals born amidst suffering, enduring countless hardships yet resilient, ultimately finding fortune and seizing their destiny.
Many of these protagonists didn't rise until their thirties or forties.
Some even waited until their seventies or eighties.
This was to leave sufficient time for "opportunities" and "destiny," ensuring that Chen Shaohu, regardless of age, would never fall into hopelessness.
And as reality proved.
His efforts bore fruit.
Even within the Black Prison, Chen Shaohu held onto hope, dreaming of a life akin to those protagonists—emerging from tribulations to shine brightly.
He saw the hardships as a form of tempering.
And.
Not only Chen Shaohu.
These fictional stories also inspired Chen Jichuan, benefiting him no less than they did Shaohu.
Shaohu's advantage lay in his limited exposure, leaving him easily persuaded, molded, and motivated.
While Chen Jichuan—
Harnessed such motivation because he was someone who had actually "reincarnated."
"Surviving leads to triumph."
"Living is hope!"
Chen Jichuan, as if encouraging Chen Shaohu, or perhaps reminding himself, forced himself upright, his jet-black eyes flashing with light: "Flowing water doesn't strive for the lead—it persists endlessly!"