The wire stretched, drawing an invisible edge track in the blue sky dotted with white clouds. The end of the road was still a road. Wu Xuanlu forgot the old man's warning and sat on the threshold of his home, lazily eating the rice from the bowl. The sparrows on the telephone pole were chirping. In the dull afternoon, she thought of those distant yet clear memories, and she couldn't help but feel pain.
This novel and its characters are purely fictitious. Any similarity is purely coincidental and should not be imitated.
