The searchlights of the brick factory sliced the night into a geometric patchwork of light and shadow. Wang Jianguo stood in the darkness cast by a stack of bricks, his Adam’s apple bobbing with difficulty; his fingers, stained by work, subconsciously scratched at the dried mud in the brick seams.
The evening breeze, carrying the lingering heat of the kilns, brushed against his sun-scorched neck. In the distance, the clanging of workers packing up their tools and the laughter of children chasing one another sounded as if muffled by frosted glass.
"Brother Shuzhuo."
Chapter 681