The temperature had already risen. I'd quit smoking for a while, but now I couldn't resist lighting up again. The sun was rising, and the dew and stifling heat made me feel restless. Smoking calmed me down. Maybe he'd already left. Fatty was smoking beside me too. You know his temper-we're just too honest, always getting tricked by the old man. So he's completely crossed me now. I considered it-it wasn't impossible. But I didn't know whether I should be angry or happy for him if it were true. Pan Zi's gravestone gradually came into focus in the morning light. The once-faded engraving, each stroke and edge familiar to me, was my own handiwork. The red outline paint had long since flaked off.
