In the early morning, a group of three to five-year-old children, wearing tattered clothes patched with scraps and straw sandals, caught Ping'an's attention in the village canteen.
He curiously widened his eyes, watching the children scramble for food, cry, and fight. He listened to the adults scolding the children, heard the sound of adults smacking them hard.
All of this was so novel to Ping'an. He held onto the table corner tightly, refusing to leave. Wherever cries came from, he would stare intently. Wherever the children stopped crying, his face showed obvious disappointment.
As breakfast ended and people gradually left, women began wrapping bean buns on a large wooden platter on the canteen tables, drawing his full attention again, as there were big jars lined up in the front yard.
