2. Mao Yin

The sun began to set, coloring the sky a spectacular mix of pinks and oranges. Just like that, yet another uneventful day had passed for Mao Yin. Everyday was the same to him. Early in the morning he would wake and drag his small body to the fields to work.

Both of Mao Yin's parents had passed away about two years ago, so he was left alone to fend for himself. Mao Yin was at the tender age of eight years old, so he wasn't able to find a proper job. Thankfully one of the older village ladies took pity on him and hired him to work in the fields in place of her son, who had left the village to pursue his studies. He was able to support himself, and therefore didn't complain.

Late in the evening, he would come back home and rest early for the next day only to repeat the cycle all over again.

One specific night as he lay, about to fall asleep, he had a thought which made him sit up and lose his drowsiness. He rubbed the sleep from his eyes and hugged his knees to his chest.

"Is this all that my life will be?"

He felt quite disturbed by the thought. He certainly didn't want to live like this for the rest of his life. But if not this, then what? What other alternative did he have?

He laid back down on his side and pondered for a bit as he hugged his dusty and worn quilt.

What should he do to change things?

He thought and thought but couldn't think of anything useful.

"Ah, if only I was rich. Then I would never worry about work anymore. The bottom corners of his small mouth tugged downwards as he sniffled. He suddenly felt the urge to cry.

He missed his mother, he missed his father, he missed being doted upon, he missed their warmth, he missed having people to talk to, care for, and rely on. He cried quietly with his face buried in his quilt for a long time before drifting off to sleep. I'm… so tired, he thought as his mind drifted off.