At the crack of dawn, the old man got up and even roused the three of them as well.
"Time to get up, time to get up, time to work. Don't say I didn't warn you. Those people aren't to be trifled with. If you don't work, you might not eat."
The old man went to stir up the fire; it looked like he was going to make breakfast.
But at the moment, no one was thinking of eating.
Song Moting, Jiang Xiaoxiao, and Zhang Baocheng all got up, but none went to wash their face.
Everyone knew the filthier they looked, the more it served as camouflage. If they washed up, it would be obvious they weren't typical villagers, who didn't look like them.
The villagers, exposed to the elements, were weatherworn and dark.
Among the three of them, only Zhang Baocheng, due to driving a tractor daily and being exposed to the elements, indeed looked like a real rural person.
