Early in the morning, when the sky was only just beginning to lighten, Wu Da removed the shutters from his steamed-bun shop as usual.
In fact, he had risen during the pre-dawn hours to knead dough, work the dough, let it rise, shape the buns, heat the pot, and set them to steam...
By the time the first steamer of buns was ready, the residents of Dongxing District were coming out to begin work.
"Big brother, two steamed buns!"
"Three buns—two with pickled vegetables, one with fried dough."
"I want five."
Wu Da answered as he deftly filled the buns and took their money.
Steamer after steamer of buns sold out. As the sun rose, all the customers had passed through.
Wu Da tidied up the counter, then carried out a stool and sat at the entrance. He took the two remaining buns as breakfast, slowly chewing them bite by bite.
Though not yet thirty, the man's hair had already turned streaked with gray, and his dark face was covered in wrinkles.
His eyes were numb and lifeless, making him look like a man in his forties or fifties.
This little steamed-bun shop had been passed down through Wu Da's ancestors. It had once supported a whole large family.
Now, only Wu Da and his son remained.
Years ago, his parents had returned to their hometown to visit relatives, only to encounter Evil Spirits. Everyone in the village had perished.
His younger brother, Erlang, had been forcibly conscripted and sent to guard the northwestern frontier. There had been no word from him for three or four years.
Nine times out of ten, he was gone too.
His wife had died two years ago, when she had been three months pregnant.
Wu Da had dearly wanted to go with her.
But