Oscar Hudson carried his backpack and held two packages in his hand, looking at the scene before him with a sense of temporal dislocation.
He couldn't be sure whether this place had just emerged from a war-torn Afghanistan or was a mountain village in some remote area of China?
It was because of the newly built asphalt road, still marked with tire tracks; because of the electric tricycles that zipped by from time to time; because of the photovoltaic solar panels facing the sunshine by the roadside, and also because of the engineering machinery parked by the road, big letters spelling "Xugong" on its side.
However, whether it was the people riding on electric tricycles or those walking along the road with their heads covered in headscarves, all their faces were unfamiliar, their words and pointing fingers clearly indicating that this was a foreign land.
