The village night was accompanied by the chirping of insects and frogs, the air lingering with the fresh scent of rice paddies, and, of course, the faint, underlying odor of pig manure.
The middle-aged woman carried her empty manure bucket, the fierce expression on her heavily fleshed face still not fading. Wu Ming stood shirtless, gripping the manure ladle tightly. Had he not forcefully wrested the ladle from her and kicked over her "ammunition depot," he wouldn't have been the only one covered from head to toe in pig manure right now.
"Don't think I'll accept an apology just like that!"
Chapter 70