Once the figures of the village chief and the others had disappeared, Li Hua walked back to the courtyard where their garden lay.
She stood there for a moment, the memories again resurfacing. The day they dug this garden and planted the first seeds remained vivid in her mind—her mother's gentle hands guiding her own through the soil, her father's quiet pride as he watched them work together. The garden had been her responsibility and her sanctuary, a place where she was able to cultivate life rather than death.