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The eldest son was first given a suspended death sentence, but the sentence was commuted to life in the fall of the following year. In fact, he only spent twenty years in prison in Xinjiang. Since you asked about his current situation, let me tell you. After he was released from prison, he became a taxi driver in our hometown. He was driving a white "Jetta" sedan. A large piece of paint fell off the rear door on the left side of the car, which looked like a sore from a distance. The spring on the passenger seat was broken, and the bent wire pierced the wrapping cloth like nails. Anyone who takes a taxi will be startled when they open the door. The boss thinks this is just right. He didn't like people sitting next to him because they were always asking questions. In your memory, the boss must still be a fashionable young man with long hair, wearing bell-bottom pants, surrounded by several brothers, and wandering around the streets all day long.

It rained heavily that night when my father ran away from home. Dull thunder rolled from the sky and suddenly exploded overhead. I vaguely heard my mother and father arguing in the bedroom again. Although I couldn't hear what the quarrel was about, I could definitely feel the terrifying atmosphere where they wanted to strangle each other to death. I pushed my brother. He slept like a little dead pig, snoring lightly. Through the lightning that lit up from time to time through the window, I saw a stream of saliva flowing from his mouth to the pillow, and the left side of his cheek was soaked in saliva. I pushed him hard, and when the snoring stopped, he raised his leg and kicked me hard. I lay in his ear and said: Mom is quarreling with dad. He still had his eyes closed: Noise, don't bother me, I was eating candy just now. I said: Go out and take a look. As long as he shows up, he will definitely make mother and father feel a little guilty. My brother stared at me: Why don't you go?