Synopsis
Yang Lei turned his back. That was when it happened — brick hitting skull, no warning, just the sound of air moving and then nothing making sense anymore. Blood ran down over his eyes. Half-blinded, he could still make out the figure standing over him. Tall, lean, calm-faced. No expression at all while he raised a second brick and brought it down. Years later, what Yang Lei kept coming back to wasn't the pain. It was the shirt. White dress shirt, clean like the man had just put it on, no wrinkles, no stains. You didn't see fighters dressed like…
