Having finally escaped the barking dogs, our group, urged on by A-Wu, continued our journey, stumbling along in the muddy water. We walked for what seemed like forever before finally arriving at a dark, small mountain village. All around was quiet, broken only by the occasional bark of a dog.
A-Wu led us to a shed next to a pigsty. The shed was dilapidated and reeked of a foul odor. He opened the door, pushed us inside, and then slammed it shut with a large padlock.
I looked around. The shed was small and filthy, with some dry grass on the floor and several rats scurrying about in the corners. We were crammed into this small space, exhausted, hungry, and afraid.
Just then, a tall, thin man walked over and shouted in broken Vietnamese, "Listen up, everyone! If you want to eat, work! Tomorrow we'll go pick star anise. If you do well, you'll get food; if you don't, you'll go hungry!" He then turned and left, leaving us looking at each other blankly.
The next morning, before dawn, the tall, thin man woke us up. Still half asleep, we followed him up the mountain. The mountain path was rugged and uneven, the surrounding trees were dense and blocked out the sun, and the occasional strange bird calls made us feel uneasy.
When we reached the star anise grove, the tall, thin man gave each of us a bamboo basket and pointed to the star anise on the trees, saying, "Pick these, and be quick!" I looked up; the star anise trees were laden with bright red star anise. But I had never picked star anise before, and I felt a little hesitant.
There was no other way but to bite the bullet and get to work. I reached out to pick some, but the star anise leaves burned my hand like fire. I quickly pulled my hand back and blew on it, but the pain didn't lessen. Looking at the others, they were all wincing in pain.
But to get food, we couldn't care less and gritted our teeth to keep picking. The sun rose higher, making us dizzy. Sweat streamed down our foreheads, dripping onto our hands, and the spiciness of the leaves made the pain even worse.
Finally, evening arrived, and we carried a full basket of star anise down the mountain. The tall, thin man came over to inspect our baskets, nodded with satisfaction, and said, "Let's go get some food."
We dragged our exhausted bodies to a dilapidated house. An older woman came out, holding several cold, hard cornbreads, and tossed one to each of us, saying, "Eat up, that's all."
I took a cornbread, took a bite, and found it hard and astringent, difficult to swallow. I was so hungry that I could only chew a little at a time, swallowing it down with my saliva.
Back at the shed next to the pigsty that night, exhausted from the day's work, everyone collapsed into bed. But I couldn't sleep. My hands ached terribly, and my mind was filled with thoughts of my mother and sister back home. I wondered how they were doing.
I'd only been in China for two days, and I'd already experienced so much hardship. I felt like a lost lamb in the dark, my future shrouded in uncertainty. But I knew I couldn't give up. I had to persevere; maybe one day things would turn around. I silently vowed to myself that I would work hard, endure this difficult time, send money home, and give them a better life.