Hitting A Dead End

Walking along the stone road along the mountain all the way back to his ancestral home, Zhang Lisheng did not encounter any fellow villages on the dim mountain road.

When he came to stand in front of the square lock made of brass on his old house, he touched the heavy wooden door for a while, before finally taking out a key from his pocket to open it. After he walked into the courtyard, he latched the wooden door firmly using two heavy bolts, just like how he did it last time.

The scenery in the yard was exactly the same as when the young man left a few years ago. The broken wells, the messy kitchen, and the house that was still gloomy and cold in the midsummer.