Xiao An squatted next to the trash can at the entrance of the alley, holding an unlit cigarette in his mouth, staring at the gate of the foot washing shop opposite.
The wind in September still carries a bit of heat, making people feel sticky. He took the cigarette out of his mouth, rolled it twice between his fingers, and then took it back. He got this cigarette from the mahjong table. It's Chinese and soft-packed. He couldn't bear to smoke it before, but now - it's useless if he doesn't smoke it anyway.
"Brother An, the grandson is out."
The person who spoke was Aqiang, Xiao An's younger brother who had been with him for almost two years. He was as thin as a monkey and had very bright eyes.
