The twenty-third day of the twelfth lunar month, the Little New Year. The north wind howled, cutting into people's bones like knives. Beneath the old locust tree at the entrance to Locust Tree Village sat a little girl as exquisite as a carved figurine. Her cheeks were red with cold, and frost clung to her eyelashes. Yet she quietly sucked on a cartoon baby bottle, her big, grape-like eyes darting as she watched people coming and going.
She didn't cry or fuss, as if she weren't the one who'd been abandoned there.
"Oh my, who left a child here?" Auntie Wang exclaimed as she passed by and came closer for a look. The little girl flashed her a grin and said in a babyish voice, "Auntie,"
