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Just when I was about to have some thoughts about my wife, the phone rang. I cursed my mother. I took the phone and it was Wang. He immediately turned on the bedside lamp, straightened his body posture, lifted one of his wife's white arms that was wrapped around him, and pressed the call button: "County Magistrate, do you have a mission?" The voice on the other end looked very tired: "Well... It's not a mission... My father just left, you're right now When I got to the People's Hospital, I had to go to the funeral home quickly. "My wife pinched my thigh under the quilt, and I pretended to be in pain, but my voice was very sincere: "Okay, I'll be there soon." When Wang hung up, I looked at the time on my phone, and it happened to be two o'clock in the morning. Wang is what we call Wang Wu in private: first, his surname is Wang; second, he is the executive deputy county magistrate, specifically in charge of the county's financial power. These days, there is nothing more worthy of being called "king" than power and money.

When the sun touched the mountain, Xiang Suolong threw the bowl and chopsticks into the pot, took a flashlight from the pillow beside the bed, inserted it into his pants pocket, and walked out quickly. The setting sun shot down from the mountain col to the west, pulling his short body out of a long shadow, swaying staggeringly on the field ridge. He is going to sing night songs. In the middle of the afternoon, when the village chief's cousin sent a message to Julong saying that Laifu from Shanshan had called, his father, the fourth old man, was officially depressed at noon. The four old men told him many times during his lifetime that after his death he did not need to attend the ashram or invite the band, but he must accompany the letter to Gelang.

I am almost 50 years old, my face is as wrinkled as a ginger bowl, my hair is like chopped cotton gauze, my eyelids are always covering my eyeballs like rags, and my three teeth are like vegetables that have been shoveled by a hoe, wobbling and trying to fall over. I will sleep with the King of Hell at any time any day. Even if I am missed by the father of hell, will it be interesting to live another 10 or 20 years? The government despises me, the cadres despise me, the neighbors despise me, and the relatives despise me. They sing about my complaints, read my bits and pieces, and talk about my empty words. What have I become? It has become a stinking piece of shit that everyone hates, and a rotten intestinal plague that you can avoid whenever you encounter it. I have been a disabled person since I was 36 years old. Doesn't a woman become useless without a man? Doesn't it mean that a good woman is a waste when she is paired with a useless man? As the saying goes, you are not afraid of dry weather, as long as the earth is moist. Without a man, what's the point of moistening my land? Neither sorghum nor rice can grow, nor can red flowers or green leaves grow. If the ground is moist, only weeds can grow, and if the ground is wet, only leeches can grow.

After hanging up the last piece of clothing, Jin Zhi felt a little tired, so he slumped down on the sofa, motionless and petrified, staring blankly at the box. The empty box was spread out, like an animal with all its internal organs eviscerated, exposed in the center of the living room. Suddenly, Jin Zhi was startled by a rushing sound outside the door. The sound of rapid footsteps, as fast as the dragging of a half-empty box, and the sound of rapid breathing. These voices came roaring and suddenly stopped at the door. Then, there was the sound of a key turning in the lock.