When Lu Zao was pushed out of the door, half the bag of compressed biscuits in his arms fell to the ground first.
"Take it away."
The man inside the door threw out a steel pipe with a broken tip, without even bothering to look at him.
"Don't take advantage of the rations if you're useless."
Lu Zao bent down, picked up the biscuit bag, dusted it off, and paused with his fingers at the mouth of the bag.
That's all that's left.
Not anymore.
The door rang again.
"And that kitchen knife."
Lu Zao raised his head.
A hand stretched out from the crack in the door, grasped the handle of the knife, and pulled it out forcefully.
"What does the cook do with the knife? It's a waste to keep it."
Lu Zao didn't let go.
