>Heavy rain washes away the sins of Kowloon Walled City,
>I scrubbed the brains in the cracks of the floor tiles with bleach.
>The system counts down blood red on the retina:
>[Cleaning remaining: 11 minutes and 47 seconds]
>There was a sudden scratching sound from the refrigerator behind me.
>And Sangbiao's fire ax is hanging above my head.
The cold rain covered Chen Xiaodao's face like a shroud. He huddled behind a trash can in the back alley of the "Fu Shou Quan" funeral home. His cheap jacket was soaked and clinging to his rugged ribs, giving him a suffocating feeling of drowning. The dim yellow street lamp at the entrance of the alley was dimmed into a blurry ball of light in the pouring rain, illuminating the mottled red-painted characters on the wall that read "Debts must be paid" - it was the masterpiece of his debt collection last week. The air is filled with the sour smell of rotting garbage and the lingering earthy smell that rises after the rain wets the dust.
