At the mouth of the small road leading to the shoe factory.
On one side was the shoe factory; on the other, a rice paddy.
At this time of year, the rice had already been harvested.
But the paddy was low-lying, about thirty to forty centimeters below the road. If someone were to lie down in it, a person driving by in a sedan, with its low line of sight, probably wouldn't see them.
"It's December. How are there still mosquitoes?"
Zhang Ning, lying prone in the rice paddy, gently slapped his own face and grumbled.
"Captain Zhang, it could be worse. Take a look over there. Captain Qian and his team have it rougher than us." A team member beside him jutted his chin towards the other side.
Across the way, Deputy Captain Qian was hiding with a portion of the team in a patch of grass.
In a patch of weeds half a man's height, there were bound to be countless mosquitoes.
