When I was young, I lived next to a road that led to the sea. In front of the building, there is a wide asphalt road and an intersection.

Behind the building, there is a now-defunct coal factory, and from my window, I can see the hills of coal in the yard.

Every morning and evening, there are many large trucks, pulling black coal back and forth.

This happened when I was in elementary school. At that time, the driver drove wild and drunk greedily, and he did not slow down from the factory yard to the highway. Every day from the upper floor, you can hear the roar of the engine speeding up.

That day, when I came back from school, I saw a crowd of spectators on the road from a distance, and I couldn't help but lean forward to take a look:

It turned out that it was the coal mill's truck that knocked over an old-fashioned tripod that looked like a green-skinned mouse and was crushed to death on the road.

By the time I arrived, the accident had been roughly dealt with. The truck was driven away, the driver was detained, and the body was transported elsewhere. So what I saw was only the "after-scene" of the accident. I heard others say that on the three jumps, all five people died.

Still, I saw what had not yet had time to be disposed of—blood all over the ground, so much that it almost evenly stained most of the center of the road; I never thought that the blood of five people could be so much. In the pool of blood, there were a few yellow and white things, and at first I didn't understand what they were, but then I thought - it was the human brain.

However, the most unforgettable thing is something other than the blood brain - it is an old-fashioned tin toy pistol, which looks like a box cannon in an anti-Japanese drama; Due to the huge force of impact, the structure was completely destroyed, and the barrel and body were twisted at incredible angles.

It just like that, lying quietly in the sea of blood, like a boat with a strange shape, drifting ownerlessly. Its owner must be a child, and that child's life naturally ended at this crossroads at that moment.

Many years later, a man who was half a hundred years old was hacked to death with an axe at this intersection.

The world is small.

More and more years later (at this time, the coal products factory has been photographed dead on the beach in the tide of reform and opening up, the enterprise went bankrupt, the vehicle was sold, and the factory was demolished, leaving only a white land, which is still barren and overgrown with artemisia grass that can be too tall and tall), in a chat with a customer, I happened to talk about my place of residence, and he mentioned that in a certain year and month, his brother and sister-in-law and nephew and others died in a car accident here - the time, place, people, things and many other elements are consistent with what I saw; I learned that the owner of the gun was a young boy, and if he lived to this day, he would probably be in his 30s, and he should have a family, a job, and maybe a wife and children......

After learning to drive, I often glanced at the steering wheel with intertwined rings in my hand before hitting the road, because it looked like a cross at an intersection - I myself became a five or six-year-old child, standing at the intersection, looking at the dazzling lights on the front of the cars coming from four directions, covering my face......