Police tape was stretched across the woods.
Several floodlights illuminated a ten-meter radius, bright as day.
The topsoil had already been removed. Du Xin Kai and his assistant, Yu Peixin, were carefully clearing away the final layer of earth.
Outside the tape, Shen Xin and the others waited for the results, some sitting, some standing.
Zhao Tianxing slapped his arm with a SMACK. "It's December," he griped, "and there are still mosquitoes."
It seemed to be a warm winter this year; the weather wasn't that cold.
Shen Xin also swatted the back of his neck. He looked at his open palm—it was smeared with blood.
He had no idea whose it was.
Beside him, Ding Yuwei handed over a few leaves.
"What's this for?"
Shen Xin asked, confused.
Ding Yuwei said, "Crush them and rub them on your skin."
Shen Xin glanced at the leaves, having no clue where Ding Yuwei had plucked them from.
"You might as well have gone down the mountain to buy some mosquito repellent and coils."
