Salty.
Fei Changfang licked the hardened dead skin on his dry lips. There was a red sun like a duck egg yolk in the sky, either rising or about to set. He was bored while waiting for the boat on the shore. He had seen this situation countless times in the morning or evening, but today was a little bit special.
Today is the day he deserves to die.
He thought: The taste of death is salty.