At five hundred meters to the south, outside the Kang Clan, dual-colored birds—white and pink—wheeled above a vast, ordered farmland.
The morning sun's first rays stretched across the neat, fifty-row lines of pineapples to the left, painting the dew on their spiky leaves in gold.
A sharp, frantic sound cut through the cool and clean, ripe fruit air as boots pounded hard on the soil.
A lady with a curvy form sprinted across the field, her breath coming in ragged gasps, while her breasts jiggled like rubber.
She skidded to a halt, bent forward, braced her hands on her knees, and screamed. "He's awake!"
From every corner of the field—between rows of crops, from the already open doors of tool sheds, and from the shaded porch of the main farmhouse—people erupted.
Men, women, and children who wore soil-dusted cloths dropped hoes and baskets and ran after the grey-haired lady.
