"Who is it? ...You motherfucker, why aren't you opening the door? Standing there looking for death?"
With that impatient voice, the door clicked open from the inside.
The woman in front stood thin and small, her years of ceaseless toil and inadequate food and clothing had turned her hair half grey, and she looked worn down like an old person over fifty, though she was just in her early forties. At this moment, the situation was even more dreadful due to a smashed bottle on her forehead, a large cut oozing bright red blood, about to spread to her left eye.
Qi Lihong's tears came pouring out. She hurriedly took a handkerchief from her pocket and pressed it against her mother's forehead, her lips tightly sealed, not uttering a word.
Her mother was not born mute; she could hear, otherwise, the neighborhood office would not have agreed to hire her as a sanitation worker.
"Yo, who's this?"
