It was always the darkest before dawn. The wind during the transitory period between late spring and early summer was fairly cold still. Pedestrians who still thronged the streets were more often than not the poor folks. Night watchmen strolled the streets while coachmen of donkey-drawn carriages rushed from house to house to pick up night soil.
The disgusting smell of the night soul drifted from behind the carriage but Old Jiang was used to it. He chugged cheap wine to expel the cold from his body and quietly sang a tune as he steadily maneuvered the old donkey.
Suddenly, his vision turned bleary as if a figure had flashed past him. Thinking that he had encountered a ghost, he could not help but shudder.
Blinking, he stared in the direction the figure took and discovered a yellow paper pasted on the corner wall of the street.
