After Jiang Ning crushed the Ultraman toy, he got on the motorcycle and boldly headed towards South Lake.
Once out of the village, the smooth cement ground turned into a dirt road. It was the dead of winter, with a bone-chilling cold permeating the air, and the ground was frozen hard. As the wheels rolled over, the fine ice cracked with a "crash" sound.
He headed south, parallel to the ditch along the dirt road.
The winter morning wilderness was silent and vast, as if shrouded in a faint morning mist, with wisps of wandering spirits, desolate and lonely.
Jiang Ning was not as fearful as he was in his childhood, of this barren and uninhabited place. He only felt somewhat wistful.
Born in the countryside, during Jiang Ning's childhood, his parents followed the trend of the times and became two of the numerous rural migrant workers reported in the news. Yet a grain of sand from the era, when it fell on his family, was a huge mountain.
