Far from being just a place of dubious repute, it has long been known for its inhabitants who are inhabited by gangsters who live mainly by stealing and committing crimes under the guise of all sorts of self-reliance.

It was a hodgepodge of shacks and huts – some of them built in long and eight short masonry barns, others of old decayed planks – untidyed, most of them just a few metres from the riverbank.

A few broken wooden boats dragged up the river beach were tied to the low wall on the shore, and here and there were oars or a roll of rope scattered here and there, which, at first glance, seemed to suggest that the inhabitants of these humble huts were engaged in some kind of aquatic occupation. However, Kazumi saw that these things were scattered there, no one used them, and passers-by could figure them out without difficulty, and these things were placed there not so much for practical use as for pretense.

In the center of this group of thatched huts, next to the river, stands a large house with several floors hanging over the water. The house used to be a factory that may have provided employment for nearby residents, but it has long since fallen into ruins. Rats, moths, and the erosion of the damp air, the stakes of the houses had rotted, and a large part of the building had sunk into the water, and the rest of the building was crumbling and lying on the dark and dreary current, as if waiting for a proper opportunity to follow the old companions and accept the same fate.

Zhang Fatzi woke up from a nap, he yelled sleepily, and asked what time it was night.

Outwardly, the house was not as good as his old home, but an inferior apartment, poorly furnished and limited in size. Light only came in through a small window* on the roof, next to a narrow, dirty alley. There is no lack of other signs of the gentleman's bad luck of late, the furnishings are so inadequate, the total lack of comfort, and the lack of even such trivial movable property as the change of clothes inside and outside, speak of a state of utter embarrassment.

The fact that the fellow was lying on the bed, with his white coat wrapped around him, his dead gray sick countenance, and his stiff and black beard, which had not been shaved for a week, showed that his whole face had not changed.

The dog crouched beside the bed, glancing sullenly at its master, and when something in the street or downstairs caught its attention, it pricked up its ears and barked in a low voice.

There was a woman sitting by the window, busy making up for him an old vest that he usually wore, her face was pale, she had become very thin because of the care of the sick and the hardships of life, and if it were not for her voice answering the fat man's question, it would have been difficult for people to recognize her as Azhu.

"A little after seven o'clock," said the girl, "what do you think of this evening?" ”

"It's as soft as spit," replied Mr. Zhang, cursing at his eyes, hands and feet. "Here, give us a hand and get me off this damn bed.

Zhang Fatzi didn't get any better because of his illness. The girl lifted him up and carried him towards a chair, where he grunted and scolded her for being clumsy and beat her.

"Crying nose, huh?" Zhang Fatzi said, "Come on." Don't stand there and smoke and snort. If you can't do anything but wipe your nose and tears, then just fuck off. Do you hear that? ”

"I hear," replied the girl, turning her face to the side, with a hard laugh. "Are you thinking nonsense again?"

"Oh. You've figured it out, haven't you? Zhang Fatzi saw tears rolling in her eyes, and roared again. That's going to do you some good, you've figured it out. ”

"You don't really want to be so fierce to me tonight, do you?" The girl said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Isn't it?" Zhang Fatzi shouted, "Why not? ”

"So many nights," said the girl, with a little feminine tenderness, so that even her voice became pleasant. "For so many nights, I have endured it, not getting angry with you, taking care of you, caring for you, as if you were a child, and this is the first time I have seen you like this. If you thought about it, you wouldn't have treated me the way I did, would you? Say, say, say you won't. ”

"Come on, that's it," Mr. Zhang agreed, "I won't." Hmm, fuck, tsk, this girl is crying again. ”

"Nothing," said the girl, leaning down in a chair, "you leave me alone, it will soon pass." ”

"What will pass?" Mr. Zhang asked viciously, "What stupid thing are you doing?" Get up, do your job, and don't bother me with your. ”

At any given time, this reprimand, along with the tone in which it was given, will have the desired effect. But this time, before Mr. Zhang could utter a few decent words of evil words, as is customary on similar occasions, to add some spice to his threat, the girl was so weak and exhausted that she put her head on the back of her chair and fainted.

Mr. Zhang Fatzi didn't know how to deal with such a trivial emergency—because once Azhu's hysteria attacked, it usually came on so quickly that the patient had to fight to the death, and no one else could help him—he tried swearing and found that this treatment had no effect at all, so he had to call for help.