The rain in the south of the Yangtze River always carries a lingering dampness, pattering on the gray tile eaves, forming a thin stream that meanders down the tiles, leaving circles of dark water marks on the muddy ground. The microscopic goose woke up from the cold, not the coldness of the air conditioner when the temperature was set too low, but the dampness and coldness that penetrated the bone marrow, like countless fine needles drilling into the seams of the bones along the pores.
