Ningshan County, Yang Qi's hometown.
The winter sun, pale and weak, shone on the relatively smooth concrete road in front of the courtyard gate.
The usually quiet village road was now exceptionally noisy.
A dark mass of no fewer than twenty people had gathered, clearly divided into two opposing groups. The atmosphere was incredibly tense.
Village Chief Yang Dalin stood with several able-bodied men from the village, forming a human wall that firmly blocked the gate.
Yang Dalin, in his early fifties, was a sturdy man with a square jaw. His face was now taut and livid, a vein throbbing on his forehead.
Opposite them, a stout, brutish man of about forty with a buzz cut and a blindingly fake gold chain was spewing profanities. He jabbed a finger almost into Yang Dalin's nose, spitting as he shouted.
