Ji Mao huddled like a cat in the corner of the balcony and peeked out through the curtains. He didn't dare to look for a long time. He took one glance and immediately retracted. After a while, if he didn't give up, he would take another look, and then another, and then another, endlessly. I saw that he was shaking all over. I don't know if he was frightened by the scene outside the window, or because he was crying, or maybe both. In the plastic bucket held in my arms, tears turned into ice beads and crackled down, and the 25-kilogram capacity plastic bucket was filled right before my eyes...