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It was a moment of kids hurrying home after school before the New Year of 2014. And the school was badly located outside Chaozhou City in Guangdong. People preferred to send their kids to study there, no matter how inconvenient, as long as it was good, popularly good.
A moment earlier the parents and grandparents had come to pick up the children with scooters or cars. There had been a lot of noisy talk, sweet smiles, some emotional indiff erence and some hidden thoughts in their looks, all messily penetrating the threads of the falling rain. And right in the middle of the crowd, across from the school gate, there was a white car slowly moving forward, angrily blowing its horn, as if it didn’t like the rhythm and pace of how people normally moved. So whether the car was forced or made a choice to drive on the wrong side of the road remained uncertain. There was absolutely no doubt that the driver didn’t like the crowds, didn’t like to stop or slow down and didn’t like to wait, not even for a second. More obviously and likely, the driver didn’t want to get out of the car. Unlike the other drivers, who would in turn pull their cars over, wait on the side, and even actually come out with an umbrella, looking with searching eyes for the one to be picked up, the driver of the white car didn’t show any sign of doing those things. It seemed as if the driver happened to be there only because the car was in the wrong place from the very beginning.

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