Under the guidance of the little boy, Wang Zhifan followed the path into the dark mountains, winding through the rugged mountain roads for half an hour until they reached the destination, Xiaohe Village.
Xiaohe Village is a small village built on a hilltop, with houses ranging from brick and tile to thatched huts. There are about fifty households in total, and the overall appearance is small and shabby, exuding a dark and desolate atmosphere.
As Wang Zhifan stepped into the muddy and rocky entrance of Xiaohe Village, he noticed several villagers standing at their doorsteps casting indifferent yet somewhat curious glances at him.
It was a rather contradictory feeling. Although these villagers seemed surprised by his arrival, there was undisguised resistance or hostility in their eyes.
"Xiaoqiang, are there only elderly and children in your village? Where have the younger people gone?"
