On the Road from Famine, the Space I Found Can Grow Crops

The sky was grayish yellow, like a dusty rag hanging overhead, pressing down so heavily that it was hard to breathe. The earth was cracked, split by deep fissures that greedily swallowed the last traces of moisture, along with people's hopes. My name is Liu Sanniang, or at least that's what everyone calls me. In this famine, when human lives are as worthless as grass, a name no longer matters. Carrying my younger brother, Xiao Shitou, on my back, I trudged after the stream of refugees, one step sinking deep, the next barely landing, heading toward the unknown south, where they said there might still be a glimmer of hope. Our parents didn't survive the winter. Last autumn's harvest