(Thanks for everyone's suggestions, I'll keep working hard to write.)
(Starting today, the plot enters the climax chapter.)
"Fuck..."
A white GAC van weaves through the traffic on the streets of Yangon.
Brother Mumbai sticks his head out of the window.
He watches a green Suzuki motorcycle racing past, less than fifteen centimeters from his side mirror, spewing a stream of profanities mixed with English, Burmese, and Hindi.
Unlike the age of sixteen in the United States, Myanmar allows you to take a driving test at eighteen, but the traffic cops on the roads basically don't care.
The motorcycle ownership here is very high, with various teenagers weaving through the streets and alleys, either running errands for their families or just commuting on bikes wearing flip-flops.
Yangon is considered a very well-managed international metropolitan area in Myanmar, with many foreign tourists from Dongxia, Japan, Singapore, and Europe and America.
