They relied on my medicine to survive, but in an instant they used reports to pin me on the pillar of shame of fake medicine. Ten years in prison have wiped out the last of my goodwill. The day I was released from prison, the wind was biting. The family members of the patients who reported me back then organized a group to pick me up, their faces full of flattery, "Brother, it was our fault back then. But now we are sick again, do you still have the medicine?" I looked at their sallow faces and smiled. He took out a handful of vitamin tablets from his bag and sprinkled them on the ground. "Kneel down and pick it up. This time, I want to watch you crawl."
