The wind in late August blows through the leaves of the ancient locust trees, bringing the first hint of coolness in early autumn. Chen Dashan stood on the millstone at the entrance of the village, sweat dripping from his dark face, but he looked across the fields to the sky in the distance that was reddened by gunfire.
"The little devil has arrived at the door."
His voice was not loud, but it struck everyone's heart like a hammer. Surrounding the millstone are Lin Shuisheng, Wang Tiezhu, Huang Shitou and Zhang Changshun - the five brothers from Chenjiacun, who grew up wearing a pair of trousers.
Lin Shuisheng wiped his face. He had just turned seventeen and was the youngest of the five. His voice still had the clearness of a young man: "Yesterday, the messenger from the neighboring village said that Hexi Village was gone, and no one was left." His hands were shaking, whether it was anger or fear.
