At the village's edge, in a dilapidated grass temple, a woman with washed-out clothes patched countless times stood behind the stove, wielding a chipped spatula.,The woman leaned over to her son, whispered a word toward the door, and then brought to the table the freshly cooked vegetables and four steamed buns.,Thinking about it, Yan Xiaosi had no choice but to often go to the pond a mile away from the village to catch fish and roast them for eating. So he ran out of the village.。