In the middle of the village, a fragile woman rested in a wheelchair, with an orange towel wrapping her head under the sun, like a withered daisy. She must be the one suff ering from cervical cancer and dying. Mei was awfully saddened by the fact that many villagers had died or were dying from cancer. As long as one became incurable, one would return to the village to be buried where one had belonged. There were at least four people waiting for the mercy of God. No wonder, fewer and fewer people stayed in the village, let alone the young, the children. No wonder, the school was needless.