They came out into the streets. It was a disappointing morning, with strong rain and clouds, as if a storm was coming. The rain fell heavily during the night, and numerous puddles of water were piled up on the road, and the ditches were full.

A faint glimmer of light in the sky heralded the dawn of a new day, which, instead of lessening it, intensified the darkness of the scene, pale the light from the streetlights, and did not cast a trace of warm, bright color on the wet rooftops and bleak streets.

No one seemed to have gotten out of bed in the area, the windows of the houses were all tightly closed, and the streets they passed through were silent and empty.

It wasn't until they turned onto Esfield Avenue that it finally dawned. Most of the lights had been extinguished, and several country cars were slowly moving towards them, and sometimes a mud-stained public carriage clattered past, and when the handlebars came to the front, they always had to whip the dumb bus owner in a punitive manner, who had taken the wrong lane, and was likely to cause him to arrive more than ten seconds later than the allotted time.

Taverns lit with kerosene lamps have opened, other shops have opened one after another, and there are scattered pedestrians on the road.

Then, there was a steady stream of workers going to work, men and women with fish baskets on their heads, donkey carts loaded with various vegetables, and two-wheeled wagons loaded with live animals or slaughtered whole pigs and sheep.

A steady stream of people carrying all kinds of food is struggling to move to the eastern suburbs. In the vicinity of the central business district, the noise and the traffic of vehicles and pedestrians have increased.

When Zhang Fatzi pulled Yongchang through the streets between the vegetable markets, this scene of busy traffic finally converged into a hustle and bustle.

It was already completely light, no different from the previous days, and it would probably continue until night came again. Half of the citizens of Conch City ushered in their busy mornings.

This morning coincided with the market. The ground was covered with muddy water almost up to the ankles, and the thick vapor of the water rose from the freshly slaughtered animals, mixed with the fog that seemed to reside on the chimney tops, and hung heavily over the market.

In the centre of this large flat field, all the corrals, together with the many makeshift sheds that could be squeezed into the clearing, were filled with sheep, and three or four rows of vegetable and bullock were tied to the stakes by the ditch.

Countrymen, butchers, street vendors, naughty thieves, spectators, and hooligans at the bottom of society, all huddled together.

The peddler whistles, the dog barks, the bull roars with his hooves, the sheep bleats, and the pig hums; the cries of the hawkers, the shouts, the cursing, the quarrelling; The bells are ringing in the taverns, and the voices of people are noisy; crowded pushing and pulling, chasing, beating, shouting, shouting; This deafening noise reverberates in every corner of the market.

Some unkempt and ragged characters are constantly running in and out of the crowd, appearing and disappearing, all of which constitute a dizzying and helpless scene of distraction.

Zhang Fatzi dragged Yongchang forward, he used his elbow to make a way out of the dense crowd, and he didn't care about the scenes and sounds that Yongchang was so amazed about.

Two or three times he nodded to his friends whom he had met by chance, turned down all the invitations for an early morning drink, and walked forward without looking back until they were out of the whirlpool.

"Hey, little one," said the fat man, looking up at the church bell, "it's almost seven o'clock." You have to go fast. Go, don't be left behind, lazy. ”

As he spoke, Zhang Fatzi twisted his little friend's wrist fiercely, and Yongchang quickened his pace, turning into a kind of trot between brisk walking and galloping, trying his best to keep up with this striding bandit.

They kept pace all the way, waiting for a horse-drawn cart not far behind them to catch up. Zhang Fatzi tried his best to pretend to be polite, and asked if the handlebar style could help with a foot.

"Come on," said the handlebar, "is this your son?" ”

"Yes, it's my son." Zhang Fatzi's eyes were staring at Yongchang as he spoke, and one hand was subconsciously inserted into the pocket of the pistol.

"Your dad is walking a little too fast, isn't he, boy?" Seeing that he was so tired that he couldn't breathe, he asked.

"No," Zhang chimed in, "he's used to it." Come, take hold of my hand, and go up. ”

Zhang Fat said this, helped Yongchang into the carriage, pointed to a pile of sacks, and asked him to lie down there and rest for a while.

The carriage drove past one sign after another, and Yongchang became more and more puzzled, not knowing where his companions were going to take him, but the carriage still carried them forward unhurriedly, as if they had just begun the journey.

At last they came to a tavern, and after a short walk they were about to turn onto another road, when the carriage stopped.

Zhang Fatzi jumped out of the carriage recklessly, still holding Yongchang's hand, and then picked him up and put him on the ground, and at the same time threw a cruel look, and slapped his fist on the side pocket twice meaningfully.

"Goodbye, kid." Handlebar type said.

"He's making a fuss," Zhang Fatzi shook Yongchang and replied, "It's awkward." This bitch. Don't be surprised. ”

"I'm not good." The man said as he climbed into the carriage. "In a word, the weather is not bad." He drove away.

Zhang Fatzi saw that the carriage was going away, and then told Yongchang that he could look back and forth, left and right, and if he was interested, he would lead him on the road again.

After a short pass of the hotel, they turned to the left and onto the right, and walked for a long time, leaving behind the many large gardens and luxurious residences on either side of the road, stopping only occasionally for a drink.

Oliver saw that there was a house that stood out. They wandered into the wilderness for several hours, and finally returned to an old inn and restaurant, where the sign hung in front of the store was unrecognizable, and they asked the kitchen to fry a few dishes and eat them by the stove.

The kitchen was an old, low-ceilinged room, with a huge beam running through the middle of the ceiling, and beside the stove lay a few tall green benches, where reckless men in long smocks were sitting drinking and smoking.

They looked at Zhang Fatzi slightly, they didn't look at Yongchang at all, seeing that Sykes didn't pay attention to them, he and his little friend sat down in a corner, and they didn't feel inconvenienced by the presence of someone.

They ate some noodles for dinner, and sat for a long time after the meal, and the fat man was so happy that he smoked four pipes, and Yongchang decided that they would never go again. He got up early in the morning and walked so far that he was so tired that at first he was just napping, and then he was subdued by fatigue and the smell of tobacco, and fell asleep unconsciously.

When Fat Zhang woke him up, it was already dark. He drove away his sleepiness, sat up, looked around, and saw that the well-known man and a man who looked like a farmer were drinking and talking speculatively.

"So, you're going to Zhengjiaqiao, aren't you?" Zhang Fatzi asked.

"yes, here goes," the man seemed to be a little drunk, but probably more energetic because of it. "It's not much slower. My horse went back to pull the empty cart, not as heavy as when I came out in the morning, and it was not good to be like this all the time. What a good animal. ”

"Can you take me and this kid along the way?" Zhang Fatzi asked, pushing the wine in front of his new friend.

"If you're going to go at once, I'll take it," replied the man, looking at him from behind the vat. "Are you going to Zhengjiaqiao?"

"Hmm." Zhang Fatzi replied.

"I will go this way, though you tell me," replied another, "and settle accounts?" ”

"The accounts have been settled, and they are the accounts of the gentleman." The proprietress responded.

"I said," said the man with drunken solemnity, "that is not going to work.

"Why not?" Zhang Fatzi replied, "You helped us, why don't you ask me to invite you to drink a pot of wine or something, to show your heart?" ”

The stranger put on a look of old and serious, scrutinized the sentence for a moment, and then, he grabbed Zhang Fatzi's hand and said that he was really a friend. Zhang Fatzi replied that the other party was joking, because, unless he was drunk, he had a reason to prove that he was telling a joke.

The two exchanged a few more polite words, said goodnight to the other guests, and walked out. The proprietress took advantage of this to put away the cups, plates and bowls, and with her hands full, she walked to the door and watched them leave.

Zhang Fatzi and Yongchang were no longer polite, and got into the carriage. The owner of the horse wandered around for a minute or two, saying that he was "cheering him on", and at the same time demonstrated to the innkeeper and the whole world, and they could not find the same horse, so they got into the car.

Then the mule groom was ordered to relax the horse. The stiff rope was loosened, but the horse used the reins to a very nasty use: he threw the reins into the air with a big grin, and flew straight into the window of the reception room across the road. When the stunt was finished, the horse took off again with its front hooves, stood upright for a moment, and then ran like a gallop, and the carriage clicked out of the city.

The night was eerily dark, and a wet mist rose from the river, from the surrounding marshes, and spread over the silent field. The chill was unexpected, and everything looked gloomy and gloomy.

No one said a word on the way, the handlebar kept dozing, and Zhang Fatzi didn't have the heart to lead him to talk.

Yongchang huddled in the corner of the cart, his heart full of fear and doubt, thinking that there must be some monster among the dead trees, and the branches of the trees shook viciously, as if he was indescribably happy in the face of this bleak scene.

As they walked past the church, the clock struck exactly seven o'clock. A light came from the window of the opposite ferry, and the light crossed the road, casting the swarthy cedar trees into a darker shadow along with the graves beneath them.

Not far away, there was the sound of running water, and the leaves of old trees fluttering slightly in the evening breeze, and the scene really looked like the silent music of the dust.

After walking a few more miles, the carriage stopped. Two people jumped out of the car. Zhang Fatzi grabbed Yongchang's hand and walked forward on foot again.

They took advantage of the darkness of the night to wade through the mud and continue on, into the dark path, over the cold and vast wilderness, until they could see the lights not far ahead. Yongchang probe took a closer look and found that there was a river below, and they were walking towards the bridge pier.

The fat man walked without looking back, and when he saw that he was about to reach the bridge, he suddenly turned to the left and walked down towards the riverbank.

"There's a river over there." A thought flashed through Yongchang's mind, and his head was so frightened that his head was big. "He took me to this place where no one was there because he wanted to kill me."

He was about to lie down on the ground, struggling to save his life, only to find a lonely house in front of them. The house was staggered and dilapidated. The gate was crumbling, with a window on each side and a floor above, but there was no light to be seen. The inside of the house was pitch black and empty, and no trace of inhabitation could be found no matter how you looked at it.

Zhang Fatzi still held Yongchang's hand tightly, gently approached the low porch, and lifted the latch.

The door opened, and they walked in together.