The driver braked with one foot and, if it weren't for the seat belt, I almost landed on the front windshield.

I took a closer look at the woman standing in front of the car. She was in ragged clothes. It was already spring. She was still wearing a thick cotton jacket. The cotton jacket was very old and dirty and black. Some of the cotton fell out. The woman was dressed up as a village woman with a headscarf, but her face was so dirty that she couldn't even see her face.

She seemed a little confused, stopped the car, refused to go away, and she was still babbling...