The old woman's eyes darted around, but before she could say more, Xiangzi spoke up. "Even though you've traded your house to me, we're all from the same village. I'm not the kind of person to leave someone in dire straits. You can stay for a few days while you figure things out. Just let me know when you're ready to leave."
The crowd praised Xiangzi for his kindness, and Zhao Guihua rubbed her eyes, thanking him sincerely.
The old woman's face darkened once more.
As the group dispersed, Zhao Guihua made her way home. Once everyone was gone, she sat down on the kang, her legs giving out beneath her. Tears? She had cried them all already. Her family had once been whole.
She had grandparents, parents, and two younger brothers. She was Zhao Daya, the eldest daughter of the Zhao family. Born in August when the osmanthus flowers were in full bloom, she had been given the formal name Zhao Guihua. But in these times, life was merciless.
