The Mountain is Silent

About This Novel

He stared at his brother's dark, thin and stubborn face for more than ten seconds, and then looked at his mountain shoes, which seemed to have snow powder that had not been stamped cleanly. Then he rushed into the left wing where his brother was sleeping. The double-barreled shotgun still hung on the blackened pine wall. He grabbed it impatiently, quickly put the muzzle of the gun close to his nose, and after just a slight sniff, he fell unconscious on the bed. The gun smelled fresh and pungent. Niu Guoli took a deep breath. He stretched out his right fist, and if his brother was still sitting across from him, he probably would have feinted two more punches in front of his face. He couldn't tell why he wanted to fight, but he thought it was probably out of gratitude. Outside the house, he saw cascading mountains standing silently in the snowy fields.

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