The Journey of an Ou

The young man named Heath turned pale, helplessly leaning his broom against the wall and brushing dust off his hands before walking into the house. The lyrics he hummed also changed.,“Holding a steamed bun in my hands… There's not a drop of oil in the vegetables…”,The menacing muzzle of the gun pointed straight at Jack's red, bloated nose. The old man immediately raised his hands in surrender.。