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Lao Qian left his post at one o'clock in the morning every day, patrolled the streets alone for a while, and went to the other two posts to check on the guards to see if the person on duty was there and whether he had slept. This process takes about an hour or so. The street is an alley behind the pedestrian street. It is winding and more than 600 meters long. There are small restaurants, inns, barber shops, beauty salons, copy shops, etc. Everything is quiet now. The whole alley was deserted. There was a street lamp standing far away, emitting a pale white light. The road was dark, dirty, greasy and slippery, and you could encounter a pile of garbage at almost every corner. Lao Qian had one foot high and one foot low. He walked a little hastily, not as slowly and leisurely as usual.

Compared with ten years ago, Ma Youfu's life has hardly changed. He lives in a bungalow in the factory's family area, and everything is as it was when his wife left him. The factory has been closed for three or four years. And his hair is getting thinner, especially in the middle of his head, where a circle of short, sparse hair surrounds a palm-sized open space, exposing his ocher-red scalp. He bought a baseball cap and put it on. This makes him appear younger than his actual age. However, it is incongruous in the end, because after all, he is a quiet and dull person. After his wife left, he and Ma Li lived together. But Ma Li disappeared more than a month ago. After all, she is more than ten years old, and she is also an old woman. Five years ago, he discovered that Ma Li was drinking secretly. Every day before dinner, he would pour himself a small glass of white wine, and when he turned around, the glass would be empty.

Recently, Lao Huang always likes to stand on the balcony for a while. The building he lives in is at the end of the family area, close to the wall. There is a railway outside the wall, which used to be a dedicated line for several factories along the line. Nowadays, these factories have been moved from place to place, and the railways have long been abandoned, and the rails are gradually rusting. Beyond the railway, there is a large wasteland with some temporary vegetable gardens and a few small ponds. Except for a few limited vegetable gardens and ponds, the wasteland is covered with wormwood that is half as tall as a man. Past the wasteland is a newly built community for farmers to return home, with some dense buildings. Lao Huang lives on the sixth floor and has a wide view. When the weather is good, he can see the people in that community moving like match heads. Lao Huang got tired of standing on the balcony and liked to light a cigarette. Especially after dinner, I would stand for an hour or two, burning four or five cigarettes.

The body was discovered by a sheepherder named Ding Laosi in the village. Ding Laosi screamed inwardly at that time, and like a Peking Opera martial artist, he fell upside down on the rock. The dry bag in his hand was thrown a dozen meters away, and the sparks splashed into a pile of dewy bat grass. Ding Laosi fell off the rock and rolled all the way down the mountain. His clothes were torn to pieces and hung in pieces here and there. There were bloody gashes on his arms, hands, legs and knees. He rolled to the middle of the mountain before getting up, and ran desperately towards the village. When he reached the entrance of the village, he shouted: Kill... Kill... Kill! Beishan is also called Qiao Mountain. The mountain is not high, but steep and stretches for hundreds of miles. There are rugged rocks on the mountain. Except for nests of stones, the entire mountain was covered with wormwood and shrubs. The mountain has always been a place where people are buried, and the graves are sparsely hidden in the bushes.