Zhou Li stood at the edge of the rooftop, leaning over to look down.
Fixed to the glazed roof tiles was a small, tilted satellite dish; one had to lean out quite a bit to see the road below.
In the increasingly dim light, the white cement road, reflecting what little light remained, was the most eye-catching, its brightness almost unnatural. A dog trotted cheerfully across it and then headed down the street. Several elderly women were sitting and chatting under the eaves of the house diagonally opposite. A middle-aged man was also walking down the street, smoking. In the darkness, the crimson tip of his cigarette could be seen, glowing brighter as he inhaled, then dimming again in an instant. When he met an acquaintance, he would stop to greet them, his voice carrying loudly.
The streetlight opposite was on, with moths fluttering around it.
This was a rural summer.
