In another corner of the building, an old man who had been watching from his window muttered to himself, "That young man was always going to end badly."
His wife glanced at him. "You knew him?"
"No, but I know that type."
She did not ask more.
That was how it went with a lot of the neighbors now. They did not know the details. They only knew enough to form a judgment. Hu Xuecheng had been loud. He had carried a gun. He had aimed it at somebody from a balcony like he thought the world was still his to bully. And now he was on the ground below, splattered in blood. It was hard not to connect those dots, even if the full truth was still hidden.
