The moment I was pulled into the room, I collapsed.
As I gasped for air, all kinds of thoughts flashed through my mind. The most persistent one, though, was why did Father Dahai help me?
I lay flat on the ground, conscious that my back was now covered in dust.
It was extremely uncomfortable but I did not care.
I was so tired and my arms were trembling. I was totally out of strength.
Dahai watched me for a few seconds as I struggled for breath before switching his mobile light off.
The room was completely dark and all I could hear was my own ragged pants.
"Ask," Dahai prompted.
"Why... so many.. uniforms?" I managed.
"Passed down from each generation."
"Ancestors? Are they Chinese or the war devils?" I asked.
The moment I let that question slipped, I knew I had done wrong.
I'd been too direct.
"Chinese, of course.
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