Chapter 8

The evening sunset bathed the millet fields in a golden glow. The ripe millet, unable to withstand the scorching sun, burst open and quietly leapt, burying itself in the soil.

At the village entrance, the postman's bicycle sped by, stopping at Chen Degong's doorway. At first glance, one could see a man and a woman sitting in the courtyard, with a boy standing beside them, looking as if they were in mourning. Another man stood holding a gleaming sickle in one hand and a dry tobacco pipe in the other, his eyes as red as if he were about to commit murder.

The scene was somewhat frightening.

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