At 1:30 in the morning, the city's neon lights were brilliant, but they couldn't illuminate the black and blue under Chen Ping's eyes.
He parked his car at the entrance of the alley in the early morning. This was his "temporary canteen".
He took out a steamed bun wrapped twice in a plastic bag from the storage compartment. It was already as cold as stone.
He drank bottled water and gnawed hard, the rough crumbs scratching his esophagus.
Outside the car window, occasionally a drunkard returning from the night stumbled by, his laughter piercing the silence sharply.
The car is filled with a complex smell that has persisted for many years and cannot be dissipated by the air-conditioning warm air - the smell of sweat, cheap detergent, and the vague residue of tobacco.
The phone screen suddenly lit up, and the dazzling light illuminated his bloodshot eyes.
The word "Mom" made his heart sink suddenly, and the unswallowed buns in his stomach seemed to turn into lead.
He quickly swallowed the food, opened his mouth to answer the call, and tried to keep his voice steady: "Mom, it's so late..."
"Ping!" His mother's cry-like, trembling voice burst out from the receiver, instantly squeezing his heart. "During the day... Those people came again during the day! At home... On the door of the house, big words were sprayed with red paint...'Pay back debts'... Wuwu... When your dad saw it this afternoon, he was so angry... His hands were shaking with anger, and he almost knocked over the medicine..."
Chen Ping closed his eyes and gripped the steering wheel tightly with one hand, his nails digging into the leather.
