Dust in the Broken Light

"I stared at my hand in a daze. It was red, swollen and rough. It really didn't look like what it should be at this age. "Lin Wei." The policeman opposite pushed over a glass of warm water, and the edge of the paper cup was wrinkled by the pads of his fingers. "Tell me, Zhang Hao, Li Ting, Wang Lei, Zhao Peng, why did you kill these four people?" I calmed down and raised my head mechanically. I could see the dark blue under my eyes in the reflection of the glass. I haven't slept for three days. Not because of fear, but because when you close your eyes, you will see grandma. She sat in front of the kitchen door, her wrinkled face reflected in the firelight, holding the cuffs of my school uniform in her hands, sewing the frayed areas stitch by stitch. "Officer," I licked my chapped lips, "do you believe in fate?" He said nothing and paused with his fingertips on the notebook. "I used to believe that." I smiled, my throat tightening, "I always feel that it will be fine if you endure it for a while. Just like the pumpkins planted by grandma, even if the leaves are smashed by heavy rains, the roots are still in the soil, they will always bear fruit." But later I learned that some roots would be uprooted and thrown into the sun to die. "