South of Daowai: Jiao Yuannan

In Daowai’s snowy streets, I gripped half a metal fork and was ready to risk my life against Cao San for my little brother. I was sixteen that year. I had no idea this street would give me twelve brothers, or that I’d watch them die one by one. It wasn’t until the day Li San stabbed Da Wu to death that I understood: the wine of the underworld is brewed from blood and tears. If this story doesn’t become a hit, you can call me big brother.