The radiation dust in the lower city is like endless gray snowflakes, floating lazily.
The signboard of "Qingqiu Waste Recycling Station" was corroded by acid rain and hung crookedly on a creaking iron door, looking like an old man who was about to expire.
Inside the door, Tushan Jiujiu was lying on a rocking chair converted from an abandoned suspension car seat, dangling half-dead.
The large men's work jacket she was wearing had bulging pockets, and she didn't know if they were being poked by wrenches or screws. Under the ripped jeans, a pair of flip-flops rested on the ground, revealing a few fairly white toes. Three fluffy fox tails emerged restlessly from the cracks of the rocking chair. The tip of one of the tails was still stained with black engine oil. It swayed to the rhythm of the rocking chair, sweeping up a burst of dust.
