Before the sun had even risen, the family compound of the Capital Machinery Factory, still veiled in a thin morning mist, was already bustling with life. The rhythmic rasp of brooms against slate, the crisp chime of a newspaper delivery man’s bicycle bell, and the clatter of pots and pans from kitchens converged into the symphony of daily existence.
Elder Sister Bai, who worked at the state-run barbershop, had just locked her door when a neighbor called out to her. The neighbor wondered why she was leaving so early, given that she usually started her shift at nine. A single sentence from the hearty woman was all it took for the neighbor to understand. Her voice was raspy and coarse, and she seemed to have difficulty swallowing—she was clearly feeling under the weather.
The reality was exactly as the neighbor had guessed.
Chapter 222