Lin Yuan's hand paused.
Just for a moment.
Then he raised the cleaning hammer and smashed it down.
The first blow made the bird's head flatten.
The second time, the wings were broken.
The third time, the whole body was shattered into a pile of scrap metal.
The old man's wailing did not sound like a human being, but like a wild beast. He struggled desperately under the hands of several people, with soot smeared on his face, and tears streaming down his face.
"Take it away." Lin Yuan said.
He kicked the broken pieces of iron aside and walked out.
When I walked to the door, I heard the old man shouting from behind: "You also had your childhood, didn't you? Didn't you think about it when you were a child?"
Lin Yuan did not look back.
The alley was still so dark. He walked at the front, followed by the cries of the old man and the scolding of the team members. After walking for more than ten steps, the cry was far away, swallowed up by the silence of the night.
The white light of the lighting lamp illuminates the road ahead, the shacks on both sides, and the children rummaging in the cinder pile.
The child was seven or eight years old, as thin as a firewood stick, and was digging in a pile of garbage with his butt sticking out. A section of waste steam pipe was dug out, about half a meter long. It has long been blocked, but the pipe is still a pipe. He raised the pipe, gestured to the sky, and made a "bang bang" sound in his mouth.
Lin Yuan stopped.
