The Devil Comes Knocking

At three in the morning, bartender Shu Chong headed home after work. There was hardly any traffic, and the breeze coming through the car window was cool. His thoughts were a little muddled. When he reached an intersection, a police cordon had been put up ahead. A traffic officer stood there, along with a few onlookers. Someone had been driving drunk and killed a person. Blood stained the ground beside the dead girl’s body. As they lifted her onto a stretcher, her right hand suddenly slipped off. Shu Chong saw a cloisonne bracelet on her wrist. The traffic lights flashed as he drove away.