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The night was endless, as if Confucius would never be born throughout the aeons.
Ganhua Alley.
Yunhu stood alone on the street, surrounded by red-brick tile-roofed houses of varying heights.
Shell casings and parts were scattered on the ground, and remnants of flesh and blood were embedded in the uneven asphalt granules, already dried.
He shivered as he exhaled a breath, his fingers picking up a bloodstained duckbill cap before turning to leave.
...
At dusk past the western market, I return alone with tears streaming down my face.
The market folk all jest and laugh, who knows my heart is in sorrow!
— "Passing by the Vegetable Market" by Xu Chengyao
The sky was covered with a layer of milky hue, the sunlight hazy, yet it couldn't penetrate the dark clouds.
Butchering pigs is menial, killing people is a noble art!
Liu Zi, I should have known to have you carry the knife handle, Jia Er, that damn kid, was truly a dawdler. A pack of pickles, taken to his grandma's house?
