Lin Wanxing's hand was pressed on the contract, and his uncle smiled as if he had sold a good pig - Zhang Laosan, a 38-year-old lame man from the next village, was willing to pay the price of three tile-roofed houses to buy her as a fertility tool. There were flowing water mats in the courtyard, and the cheap liquor was so spicy that it choked her eyes. The cripple bared her yellow teeth, and her laughter stuck to her skin, like a poisonous snake that couldn't be shaken off. The moment the master of ceremonies shouted "worship the heaven and the earth", Lin Wanxing overturned the table and the dishes exploded into stars all over the sky. She waved her sickle, took advantage of the chaos to cut the wedding silk, rushed out of the compound, and ran towards Langya Mountain. Snowflakes as big as torn paper money fell on her hot temples and turned into white mist. She didn't know how many miles she ran when her sole slipped and she threw herself into the deep snow. She felt something warm in her palm - there was a man lying in the snow, and his blood dyed the ground dark red. His lips were blue, but his knuckles were tightly clenching a piece of purple grass, as if he was holding his last breath. Lin Wanxing was stunned: he had just escaped from a business, and yet he was still half-dead. She spat out her bad luck, but still dragged the man into the abandoned charcoal kiln, and lit a fire with dead branches. The purple grass flickered faintly in the firelight, revealing two equally embarrassed faces - one was sold cheaply by the world, and the other was chased by death. The snowy night nailed their shadows together, like nailing each other's last bargaining chip.
