Qingming Festival

The alleys of urban villages are like soaked kelp, sticky and wrapped around the edge of the city. Lin Che stepped on the stagnant water and ran towards the rental house. The legs of her trousers were rolled up to her knees, and her exposed calves were still stained with the motor oil she rubbed at the scrapyard in the afternoon. The WeChat message sent by the landlady in the evening was still on the screen: "The rent will increase by 300 from next month. If you don't pay, you'll be thrown out of bed."