In a remote mountain hollow stood a tiny village called Qingping Village. Its houses were scattered far apart, all of them ramshackle earthen huts leaning at crooked angles, as if the slightest gust might blow them down. Li Yang was born there, into a family so poor they had nothing but bare walls.
Since he was little, Li Yang had rarely known the feeling of a full stomach. His family was so poor they could barely keep food on the table, and going hungry for two out of every three days was nothing unusual.
