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happy, I woke up in tears and the truth came out: “I want to go home. Please take me back home!”
    I begged and begged until the father took me home on the backseat of his bike. It was a thirty-minute ride in the darkness, and to a child, it was like coming back from another world. The man was not happy, but I could not endure my own misery any longer to please him and his family.
    When we arrived at the military compound, the man knocked on our neighbor’s door and woke them up to open our house for me. The home that had been filled with warmth and people when I left was now dark and empty; everyone was gone. A curious neighbor saw the open door and stopped by to ask if I’d like to stay with her family. When I said no, she asked why I wanted to stay in the house when my family was all gone. I forced a smile and said, “Just being in my own room already makes me feel better.” She shook her head with confusion and tucked me into bed. As I was lying in the dark, I heard the neighbor say to someone else, “That poor child. She feels better by just looking at her room.” Tears came to my eyes as I held my pillow close to my chest and clutched my favorite blanket. The familiar smell and feel of the fabric comforted me. I missed my parents terribly.
    When my father came home a few days later, he was understandably upset. “You are such an irresponsible kid! How could you quit like this? If you were in the army, you could be kicked out and locked up for punishment. Don’t you know your mom and I go out to help the poor and the peasants? It is a very important job, and it is our duty as military doctors. That’s why we can’t stay with you all the time. You are not just anyone’s daughter; you are the daughter of two PLA doctors. If you don’t ask yourself to behave better than other kids, how can I trust you and give you more responsibilities in the future? What a hopeless thing. You will not amount to anything worthwhile!”
    Dad’s words of disappointment crushed me. How I wished I could be a good little trouper and please him. But I was only five. Later, my dad said, “What a shame. We just gave them a whole bag of grain,” which in those days was like a bag of gold.
    “Can we ask for it back?” I asked carefully.
    “Of course not!”
    Now I felt even worse. As a PLA kid, I bore special responsibilities. There was no place for personal sentiment or emotion. My parents’ work was more important than my needs, and my irresponsibility had caused a terrible waste. But what was done was done. I could only try harder to redeem myself in the future to earn my father’s trust and respect.
    That opportunity arrived five years later, at the time of the Tangshan earthquake, which struck in the early morning hours of July 28, 1976, measuring 7.5 on the Richter scale and killing or injuring more than 240,000 people. That night after dinner, when I slipped out to play with my friends, I overheard an announcement on the military base: “Emergency! Assembling! Ready to move out.”
    When I came home and casually mentioned to my dad what I had heard, his countenance fell and he became serious. Dropping the dinner dishes he had been washing, he dried his hands and went outside. When he returned a few minutes later, he told my mom, “Pack up; the army is being sent on a rescue mission.”
    Within half an hour, my parents emerged in full uniform with supply belts, water bottles—the whole package. After giving me a few instructions about how to use our ration cards to buy flour, rice, and cooking oil; where to take my siblings to kindergarten; and how to send letters to update them on family affairs, my parents walked out the front door and joined the assembling troops in the darkness.
    After watching them march out the front gate and disappear into the night, I walked home slowly. There, in the dim candlelight—there was no electricity that night—I saw my six-year-old sister, my four-year-old brother, and my ancient