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.,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.,The thin young man was beaten, his head bloodied. He lay on the ground, curled up, clutching his head and trembling violently.。