Jian Taiyong squatted in the yard and wiped the hatchet that had been used for eight years with a rag.
The gaps on the blade are piled on top of each other, all earned by the ghost market. He didn't bother to put away his knife, so he slashed twice at the remains of the bucket and slashed into the wooden pile - with a pop, the whole root broke in half.
"It's done!" He stood up and dusted off his knees. "The world doesn't want to play, and labor and management don't want to play anymore. From today on, I will be a fisherman in the vegetable market."
The box was tied up in the morning, including two sets of bedding, three pairs of pants, a lighter, and a bottle of pepper spray—this was all his belongings.
