"Sleep," Ling Heng said. Tu Laoyao couldn't see anything anymore, his eyes filled only with the blinding, hazy light; in the light, there was a bright figure, with a red birthmark on the side of her neck, like droplet of weeping blood. Sleep…this voice of Ling Heng's, it was truly fucking pleasant to listen to. Tu Laoyao spat out a mouthful of blood, and wanted to ask her, what about Li Shiyi? Had Li Shiyi, who had, just then, been beaten such that she could only breathe in and couldn't breathe out, died? Ah, it was said that in Sijiucheng, the tobacco stand's proprietor was thin and frail, dispirited and washed out in appearance, her hair cut short, unable to cover her neck, with bangs that seemed to have been gnawed by a dog, long here and short there, concealing her heavy eyelids, an antiquated guapi hat atop her head, looking somewhat comical. Her surname was Li, and had always looked like this, neither a man nor a woman; she didn't have a name, and sh...