冬季,最难熬的数九天,灰暗的天空死样的阴沉。天才干巴亮,村庄还残留着硝烟的味道。人们像约好似的往同一个方向跑。有提着棍子,有拿着铲子,还有举着扫把。他,被逼进了村头的废猪圈,蜷缩在墙角瑟瑟发抖。求求你们,是这样……打死他,莫听他瞎说……不知谁大吼了一声。红眼的群众把他踩在脚下,拳脚如雨般落在他身上。一根碗口粗的棍子撇开众人砸在他腿上。啊……惨叫声震得天上的雪落了一地。那年瞎子还没瞎,腿也没残,十五岁的 Winter, the most difficult number of nine days, dead gloomy sky gloomy. The genius of dry and light, the village still residual smell of smoke. People run in the same direction as if they were about to do so. With sticks, shovels, and brooms. He was forced into the village of waste pigsty, curled up in the corner shivering. I beg you, so ... kill him, listen to him nonsense ... I do not know who roared. The red-eyed masses put him on his feet and fists fell on him. A thick stick out of the mouth of everyone smashed in his lap. Ah ... screams of snow fell in the sky fell to the ground. That year the blind man was not blind, his leg was not disabled, and was fifteen years old