The late afternoon rain knocked on the dome of the Starlight Theatre, like countless fingers knocking on the door. When Li Xiangyu stepped through the stagnant water and crossed the cordon, he heard the faint singing voice for the seventh time. It was babbling, as if it came from an old record from the Republic of China.
Ma Guangsheng was squatting in the center of the stage. The beam of the flashlight pierced the thick darkness and illuminated the broken lenses on the ground. Each lens reflected a small patch of scarlet, and the pieced together looked like a torn bloody map.
