Looking up again toward the front, on the wall by the dirt road there was a line of very new, half-finished slogan.
"Implement it through action"
The other half was just whitewashed, not yet written.
Following that wall forward, he could still see some other big-character slogans.
"Prepare for war, prepare for famine, for the people."
"Never forget class struggle."
Wen Yan walked along the road; by the roadside he could see piles of cow dung and little pellets of sheep droppings.
He had only gone a few steps when he saw a man carrying a shoulder pole come out from a nearby alley.
The man saw Wen Yan, his steps paused, and he turned around to leave.
A thought flashed through Wen Yan's mind, and he switched to the local dialect.
"Uncle, how do I get to Old Wang's Home, you know the way?"
When the man heard this, he stopped, sized Wen Yan up and down, a trace of wariness in his eyes.
"Which Old Wang? Where are you from?"
"My old home's in Camp Village."
