The gray-white sky is like a dirty rag, making people breathless. Su Wan squatted in the rubble and traced the silver crack that only she could see with her fingers. It hung in the air, as thin as a hair, but the edge shone with a dangerous light. Wanwan! Why are you dawdling there? Lao Chentou yelled at the top of his lungs, with a strong northeastern accent floating in the wind, "If you don't come, you won't get a share of today's rations!" She responded and gently tapped the slit with her right index finger. There was a cold touch on my fingertips, like touching the iron railings in winter. The silver light climbed up along her skin and penetrated into her blood vessels. It was unclear whether the feeling was pain or numbness. The cracks began to heal, shrinking from the two ends to the middle, and finally disappeared without a trace. There was a buzz in my head. What did you have for dinner last night? Corn mush? No, it looks like mashed potatoes. She frowned and stood up holding on to the rusty steel bars. This problem is becoming more and more frequent. Every time I repair the cracks, I always forget something trivial. The settlement square was crowded with people. The stove made of iron buckets was emitting black smoke, and a paste with no visible raw materials was boiling in the large pot. Su Wan reached the end of the queue, and the two women in front were talking in low voices. Did you hear that? Three more people are missing from the eastern outpost. Is it the crack again? Who knows? As we were walking, there were no more people, not even a scream. Su Wan tightened her clothes. She looked down at her hands. There was still a subtle silver light in the lines on her palms, like broken glass embedded in them. This ability was left to her by her grandma
