Surviving the Famine Years: One Mall That Sees Through People's Hearts

The yellow earth on the official road had cracked beneath the blazing sun, its fissures spreading like a spiderweb. Hot wind swept coarse sand and gravel across people's skin like a succession of knife cuts. Even breathing meant drawing a mouthful of dust.

The fifth day of their flight from famine.

Shen Zheng followed behind his uncle with his head bowed. To passersby, he was just a boy in a filthy gray cotton jacket, his dry, tangled hair hiding most of his face, so thin it seemed a gust of wind could topple him. But beneath the dust, he was fair-skinned, with regular features. He looked every bit like a young master who had never known hunger, an easy target among the refugees. Anyone would want to snatch a piece of his jacket or whatever he carried. Yet days of hunger and hardship had left a dull haze over him. His skin had once been fine and pale, but now the blazing sun had reddened it, and tiny cuts from flying grit streaked his cheeks and jaw, each oozing a thin trace of blood. Even after being battered by the wind and sand, his natural good looks still showed through. But in a year of famine, that fair, handsome face was no blessing. It was a crime to possess a treasure.

The soles of his straw sandals had long since worn through.

This novel and its characters are entirely fictional. Any resemblance to actual events or people is purely coincidental. Do not imitate.