On the twenty-sixth day of the twelfth lunar month, Lao Scar came out of his cell.
There was less than 200 yuan in his pocket, and the scar on his face was still there.
When I got home and opened the door, the wooden box on the kang was pried open.
The golden Buddha his mother left behind is gone.
The twelve-year-old daughter is gone too.
There is a note under the Kang mat: I want to see your daughter on the twenty-eighth day of the twelfth lunar month, in the abandoned kiln factory in Jiangbei.
Some people want to see him sink until he sinks into the mud and never gets up again.
Lao Scar put the note into his arms and grinned.
He has experienced ups and downs in his life, but he has never accepted his fate.
One river, one city, twenty years.
Some people float, some people sink.
Lao Scar clutched the iron wrench and stood on the frozen river.
Snow is coming.
