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One late autumn night eight years ago, the ground was filled with moonlight. Huang Dafa went to catch weasels in the cemetery in the south of the village. On the way, he picked up a child. A child who was not yet one month old, pink and chubby, curled up in a ball in his swaddling clothes and fell asleep. This is a boy. The only drawback is that he has a "hare lip". Whose child is this? Why was he thrown away? None of this is important to Huang Dafa. What is important is that he is almost 50 years old and has been a bachelor, but this time he picked up a son for nothing. What could make him happier than this? It was time to give this child a name. Huang Dafa thought and thought, and spent three days giving him a name: Mancang.