In the setting sun of late autumn, the blood-like afterglow splashed on the bluestone-paved Linjiang Pier. The evening breeze carried a desolate coolness, carrying the dust and the fishy smell of the river, and wreaked havoc among the streets and lanes. The streets and alleys are dilapidated, with broken walls and ruins scattered here and there. Withered and yellow weeds stubbornly emerge from the cracks in the stones, and are crushed by the autumn wind. Everywhere you look is a withered and depressed scene. There are poor people in ragged clothes walking around, all of them are sallow and thin, and they are walking slowly. They are struggling to survive for three meals a day. The streets are full of embarrassment of struggling to survive, and there is no warmth from the fireworks.
