A Mud Horse Crossing Beijing

2004, Autumn. Shenjia Village. The tire of the Audi 100 ran over a sharp stone, emitting a cloud of acrid white smoke. This smell of industrial civilization made Shen Laowen'er sneeze under the old locust tree. He squinted his eyes and looked at the black car. He suddenly felt that it was not a car, but a giant black beast from the capital, walking slowly through the mud of the village. A mud horse crosses Beijing. Shen Bo sat in the car, tapping his fingertips on the leather armrest. These four words were written with burnt charcoal on the mottled wall in that drafty adobe house when he was fifteen years old. At that time, he was called a "bastard" and his mother, Zhang Dinghan, was called a "vixen". Today, the ink has long since peeled off with the wind and rain, but these four words have been carved into his bones. The car door opened and Shen Bo stepped out. He did not immediately fix his hair that was messed up by the wind, but turned back first and helped Zhang Dinghan get out of the car with his own hands. The beauty from the capital city who once fell in the mud and was covered with injuries now has not even the soles of her shoes stained with dust. "Mother," Shen Bo whispered, "I brought back those four words you taught me back then." Zhang Dinghan looked at the familiar yet unfamiliar village in front of him. There was no hatred in his eyes, only a dead indifference: "Well, Bo'er, this mud horse... Has a steady footing."