There have been heavy rains in the small town of Yingkou for days. The men in the wine shop whispered: I saw a giant claw hidden in the clouds. Someone answered: The golden eyes drooped, and the tail shadow stretched dozens of feet. In the shadow of the corner, I held the jade pendant tightly, and the door panel was suddenly knocked open. Two people stepped in through the rain. The middle-aged man with long eyebrows shook off his raincoat and said: Shopkeeper, warm up a pot of wine. I recognized that face. Uncle Jiu. He suddenly looked sideways at me, his eyes like daggers. Thunder outside the window tore through the sky again. What is supposed to come will always come.
