The days of winter always seem so short. It's only around 5:30, but the sky has already pulled up a curtain of darkness. This forced Old Zhao to turn on the high beams of the Jianghuai vehicle to see the terrible road conditions leading into the village.
The village was eerily silent, unlike yesterday. Now, it feels like an isolated deserted island; the welcoming party that greeted Old Zhao and his group into the village yesterday is nowhere to be found.
But this is undoubtedly a great boon for the survivors, and those welcoming folk are likely on their way to the forge of hell for transformation.
The high beams of the Jianghuai vehicle roamed the village like two real ghost flames, finally choosing a courtyard surrounded by mud walls as its destination.
Before Old Zhao could stabilize the car, Wang Qiang jumped out first. Although being idle along the way was comfortable, the bumpy road had abused his backside quite a bit.
