Restrictive Zone

RA 8 - Pleasant

***

Despite that being the case, Jiang Chijing still tossed and turned in bed that night because of the situation involving Zheng Mingyi, only just barely managing to fall asleep late into the night.

The next morning, in a rare instance of oversleeping, he hastily spread strawberry jam on a slice of bread and drove madly the rest of the way to the prison with it jammed in his mouth.

When he was done delivering the mail, he was finally able to relax from the panicked morning. But just as Jiang Chijing was dozing off in his seat, Luo Hai suddenly appeared at the library door, knocking on the wood as he said, "Do me a favor."

"What?" Jiang Chijing raised his head in bafflement.

As soon as the words left his mouth, a figure in a prison uniform appeared behind Luo Hai. If Jiang Chijing's memory wasn't failing him, this man should still be in confinement with two other people.

"I need him to take a psych eval." Luo Hai pointed at Zheng Mingyi with his thumb. "But someone at the sewing factory sewed their finger. I have to go over and deal with it for a bit and really don't have the time now to conduct it for him."

For some inmates who potentially had mental disorders, the prison would preemptively conduct psychological assessments to prevent serious violent and bloody incidents in the future.

The sorry state that Zheng Mingyi beat Old Nine into yesterday prompted the prison to look into his mental condition and risk level.

"Can't you print out the questions and get him to fill them out and hand it to you?" Jiang Chijing said with slight grudging in his tone, reluctant to needlessly give himself more work.

"Not possible." Luo Hai wagged his finger helplessly. "He has dyslexia."

"Dys...Lexia?" Bemused, Jiang Chijing swept a glance at Zheng Mingyi, who was standing bored on one side, then said to Luo Hai, "You mean you want me to read to him?"

"That's right, so long as you understand." With that, Luo Hai turned over and stuffed a tablet into Zheng Mingyi's hand before saying to Jiang Chijing, "I still have to deal with that injured guy. I'll leave him to you, then."

"Hey, wait!"

Jiang Chijing lifted his chin to call Luo Hai back, but the man disappeared in a flash at the door, whereas Zheng Mingyi had already walked over with the tablet, handcuffs still on his wrists.

"Where should I put this?" Zheng Mingyi asked.

Exasperated, Jiang Chijing took the tablet from Zheng Mingyi's hands, using his chin to point toward the nearest table to his office desk. He said, "Take a seat there."

Zheng Mingyi quickly went over and sat down. He looked fixedly at Jiang Chijing, but his gaze didn't hold the same provocation as it had before, like he was simply waiting for Jiang Chijing to speak.

"You can't read?" Jiang Chijing asked.

Come to think of it, this was the first time that he was speaking to Zheng Mingyi alone. What he hadn't dared to do in the past was now something trivial and mundane.

"I can," Zheng Minyi said. "I'm only dyslexic."

Dyslexia could be classified into two categories; the first was dyslexia as a result of low intellect, while the other was conversely dyslexia as a result of extremely high IQ.

Many geniuses in history were considered as 'academically poor' in their childhood, but later studies revealed that these people exhibited classic cases of dyslexia.