Yan Fei lay on the chilly ground, not caring that his new clothes were getting grimy.
He kept holding his stomach and making slurping sounds, lifted his hat with his hand, and pretended to wipe sweat off his face. He smeared his face with the dust on his hand until it was dirty.
Soon, people started gathering around him. Two police officers, as if on command, rushed over.
Several big shots who had been in the car, didn't speak a word. They received criticisms from the surrounding crowd when they disembarked.
Yan Fei's face, which bore the gene of Yan blacksmith's family of honest and innocent boys, stirred even more compassion from the onlookers.
"Is there a doctor? Is there one? Please, come take a look at this young man," yelled the cops as soon as they arrived on the scene.
