*SCREECH—!!!*
The decrepit Flying Pigeon bicycle jerked to a halt at the gaping maw of the tenement block’s stairwell. Rusted brakes shrieked like tortured metal.
Yang Xiaochuan braced one leg on the cracked asphalt, half-slouched on the unforgiving metal saddle. Fresh from the county town, his faded work jacket—cuffs frayed to gossamer threads—was dust-choked. Sweat plastered the coarse fabric to his spine. Mud-spattered, cracked rubber boots, edges crusted with dried earth and brittle grass blades, anchored him to the grimy ground. Head bowed, he fumbled with the coarse hemp rope securing a bulging kraft envelope stamped "Qingshan County Health Bureau" to the rear rack.
The dying sun’s feeble rays clawed into the narrow stairwell, casting grotesque, elongated shadows on walls
