The neon lights on Guijie Street were leaking electricity, making Li Yuanchao's Elantra as shiny and slippery as fried liver. He rolled down the window, and the cigarette ashes bounced into the boiling spicy smell of Guijie. The peace charm hanging on the rearview mirror made it spin in circles in the wind - it was left by the Lama Lama last time.
