It rained for three whole days.
The dark alleys of Longcheng are like soaked wounds, with dirty water wrapped in rotten vegetable leaves and worse things pouring into the sewer mouth. Ember Crow squatted under the rain eaves at the back door of a gambling house, his hood pulled down low, revealing half of his chin with gray stubble. He held half a piece of hard scallion pancake in his hand and chewed each bite for a long time, as if he was counting how many bites he had left in his life.
He quit three years ago.
