If there were a road to heaven, who would choose to struggle in hell? Xiangxiang lay on a straw mat woven from sorghum stalks, staring blankly at the sky with vacant eyes. Her cracked, pale lips moved, and her hands, dry as twigs, clawed at the air.
A vicious voice came from the courtyard: “Spray some insecticide. The flies are everywhere, and in this heat the room will be crawling with maggots!”
“Mother! Don’t begrudge it. My father is waiting for you in heaven!”
Xiangxiang could not speak, though her mind was clear. Memories flashed before her one after another, like scenes in a film...
