Blossoming flowers spun in the air at the front of the giant black iron gate carrying the Qing's name.
Dust welled up as the tires of the black BMW slowly came to a halt. The sun's rays shone on its top as the vehicle stood there as if waiting for permission.
As the gate opened, the engine hummed back to life, then slowly drove forward.
Inside, men in slightly dirty clothes stood at the entrance to Qing's farmland, arms folded on their chests, watching the vehicle pass.
A small boy with long, untrimmed hair walked over to the man in the blue short-sleeve shirt, glancing nervously at both the approaching car and his father, then called out. "Dad."
"Son." The man crouched to his son's level, brushing rice from his lips. "Are you done eating?"
"Yes." A smile tore across the boy's face as he answered. "I want to eat that kind of food every day. It's really good."
