"What kind of brain do you have? My voice could pass for your grandma's, couldn't it? You can't even tell?" Aunt Wang became increasingly convinced that participating in the test was a mistake; the things young people liked these days were just too bizarre.
Heavy footsteps caused Aunt Wang to close her mouth. The room door in front of her was yanked open, and standing amidst a pile of old belongings was an unusually burly young man.
The bare top of his head bore ugly scars, and a fire had consumed nearly half of his face. The young man was wearing a tattered sweater, holding a broken radio in his arms. A glass bead filled his left eye socket, and only his right eye was intact.
The young man was very tall, and his face carried a silly smile. He would have been considered handsome, had it not been for the scars left by the fire. When he smiled, it tugged on the scars on his forehead and face, making it truly terrifying.
