Old Luo turned around and saw Little Tao sprawled on the ground, clutching his lower back and groaning. He immediately cursed, "It's the first day of the New Year. You haven't had dumplings or dishes, so what drunken madness are you putting on? Get up, we still have to open the gates."
Though Old Luo cursed viciously, he stepped forward and bent down with Liang Little Four on the other side to help Little Tao up. He nagged as he turned his head, and they slowly walked forward, slowly rounding the corner.
After only a few steps, Little Tao's legs suddenly went limp, and he sank downward.
Neither Old Luo nor Liang Little Four could hold him up, and Little Tao fell to the ground again.
Old Luo yanked hard on Little Tao's arm and cursed, "What madness are you up to now? You're holding us up..."
Old Luo noticed Little Tao staring straight ahead, his face blank and his eyes full of terror. He hurriedly turned to look toward the city gate.
Strips of white cloth hung from the city wall, and beneath each strip dangled a dead person with a purple-black face.
Some had had half their necks strangled away, their frozen wounds resembling muddy paths crushed beneath cartwheels.
The hanged dead stood in a single row.
On the wall beside the corpses, huge blood-red characters lay frozen.
Old Luo's scalp went numb.
"Th-thirty..." Liang Little Four muttered.
"Quick, quick, report this to the yamen..." Old Luo said, trembling. Yet none of the three moved. They all looked down at their feet.
Their six legs shook like dogs flinging off water.
At daybreak, an unbelievable piece of news spread through the entire city.
Thirty people had hanged themselves inside each of Far-Reaching City's east, west, south, and north