The night blurred the outlines of distant mountains and forests.
The gentle evening breeze blew, wafting the thin mist of the minefield, brushing against the canteen roof.
Two foxes lay crouched on the tiles, their large tails raised, eyes fixed inside.
Is this all of them?
Aren't any more people coming?
When do we make a move?
...
The atmosphere inside the canteen was very strange.
Mo Dashan sat by the dining table, smiling as he looked at another person.
"This boss, where do you make your fortune?"
He was a young man in his thirties, wearing glasses, also full of smiles.
He held a bright red talisman in his hand, tapping it on the table, ready to spring into action at any moment.
"Not a boss, nor made a fortune. Real estate agent, I ride a small electric scooter every day, taking people to see houses."
The third person at the table was a young, black, and chubby man.
"I work as a supervisor on a construction site.
