On January 19, before the sky had fully brightened, many people had already taken to the streets.
Their faces all bore the same delight, shock, and longing.
They were like prisoners emerging from years in a deep dungeon into the open sky of freedom, desperate to release every breath trapped in their chests.
Some laughed, some cried, some stood dazed, and some paced in circles...
The first group had already left. They began returning to the homes they had not visited in so long, the homes they had once believed they no longer had any right to disturb.
The second group was thinking. They analyzed the mission while planning the road ahead.
The third group was lost. They looked at this familiar city, yet could only sit on the roadside at street corners, staring at the gloomy sky, unsure where to go.
Kangming Village had a name that promised modest prosperity, yet it was a tiny village with few inhabitants and extreme poverty.
The times changed so quickly, but it seemed to have been put on pause twenty years ago.
Brick-and-tile houses were scarce throughout the village. Most homes were made of earth, and when the wind swept up the yellow dust from the ground, it nearly buried the little settlement.
The yellow dirt path leading out of the village had no tire tracks, only the hoofprints left by the animals pulling ox carts and horse-drawn wagons.
Gao Meixiang was the person who often kept watch along this dirt path, the village's only link to the outside world.
She was seventy-six that year. Time had long since bent her back, and she could no longer straighten it.
The yellow dust and fierce winds had dried out the flesh of her face. With her back hunched, she had to wrap