Driving to the county seat of Fufeng, Linxie insists on getting off the bus. A person walking in the cold street, there is a month but hidden into the cloud, walking, aimless. This road is right or wrong, maybe there is no right or wrong, it depends on how you go. It's like a knife, in the hands of murderers, it's a murder weapon; in the hands of chivalrous people, it has the good name of a sword; in the hands of national heroes, it's even more sacred.

there is no mistake in the way, only the person who is on that way. Thinking of walking, unconsciously, he went to...