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Zhao Xuequan, an old man at the north end of Zhaojia Village, has added four new graves in three years. Zhao Zitao and Jiang Yihan sat face to face next to the new graves of their third son and sister-in-law Wang Mei. They looked at each other with red and swollen eyes, but could not say a word. In the howling autumn wind, the withered yellow leaves on the trees fell one after another. It slowly and slowly fell to the ground, making a bleak "rustling" sound. Autumn dusk always comes quickly, before the water vapor evaporated by the sun on the mountains and fields has dissipated. The sun has not yet disappeared, and the shadow of the moon has dimly reflected in the sky. Then, the wild wind in the valley carried a strong coolness and drove the white mist towards them. Zhao Zitao said to Jiang Yihan in a hoarse voice: "Let's go back. You are pregnant with a child. Don't dare to sit in the wild for too long. Be careful."