At four o'clock in the morning on Qingnan Road, the rustle of a broom across the ground startled the night herons flying from the locust trees. When Lin Mo bent down to pick up the cigarette box, the shredded tobacco he ran over with his fingertips suddenly ignited without any wind, and the ashes gathered into a small vortex in his palm. The girl in a floral skirt squatted on the bus stop holding a drawing board, the tip of her pencil trembling - she clearly saw the sanitation worker in orange overalls, using a broom handle to lift the beer bottle waved by the drunken man in the alley, and stopped it in mid-air.
From then on, a mysterious figure appeared in Su Wanxing's sketchbook. This sweeping monk who always appeared at dawn could cut through heavy rain with his broom and crush a thief's switchblade with his iron-like hands. But when she fainted due to hypoglycemia, he would take out a fruit candy wrapped in rough paper from his arms. When the shadow of serial robberies shrouded the entire city, she discovered that the courier who escorted the elderly living alone home every night, the proprietress who accurately spotted counterfeit banknotes at the night market stall, and even the mute shoe repairman at the gate of the community all looked at Lin Mo with the same kind of awe.
"They all call me master." On a rainy night, Lin Mo used a broom to hold up a small space without rain for her. The vortex in his palm was sucking away the mud and water from the corner of her skirt. "But I want to be your umbrella even more."
