The emptiness gradually filled Mei with restlessness. It was a change, a depressing change. The difference between now and then engulfed her. She stood looking at the charcoal-burning stove with everything around it dusty. She touched the dust on the handle of a cooking shovel. She removed the wooden lid from an enormous pan and found the pan decaying with rust. She took a long look at a well next to a ditch and discovered the well was completely dry with spider webs. She then stared at a red wine pot with elegant patterns and suddenly felt a tender pity for every object that was abandoned. Her mind reeled at her nostalgia. A train of thought overwhelmed her. The animation of her childhood life scenes with lively voices contrasted sharply with the terror of her dying village.