During the holidays, Dong Yi didn't go home but stayed in her dormitory, and she seldom made phone calls.
Dong Yi shook her head, "My relatives all died in the mudslide."
Qian immediately noted this important information in her mind.
"How old were you then?" Qian asked in a conversational tone, though the therapy had already begun.
"I was 6 years old. That day happened to be our ethnic traditional Hair Washing Festival. In the morning, all the men, women, old people, and children went to the river to wash their hair. I wore a silk qima that I loved, but now I can't remember its color. I looked forward to the hair washing banquet at home in the evening, wanting to sing hair washing songs with my family and enjoy a sumptuous dinner, but before evening came, the mudslide erupted..."
