Meanwhile, the commune members of Shishanling crowded onto the brigade's sunning-ground. A large group stood there in the pouring rain. The men's eyes were bloodshot as they stared at the homes and fields destroyed by the landslide, wanting to cry but having no tears left. The women slapped their thighs and wailed in despair...
The children, usually so lively and mischievous, now huddled against their parents and older siblings, their faces streaked with tears.
Tears still clung to Captain Zhou's face, which was as wrinkled as elm bark. He was filled with a mix of emotions. He was thankful that when the disaster struck, everyone had been in the brigade's drying house, cleaning mushrooms. Otherwise, there was no telling how many casualties there would have been.
