During the vacation, Dong Yi didn't go home and stayed in the dormitory. She rarely made phone calls.
Dong Yi shook her head, "All my loved ones died in the mudslide."
Xiao Qian immediately recorded this important information in her mind.
"How old were you at that time?" Xiao Qian asked in a conversational tone. In fact, the therapy had already begun.
"I was 6 years old. That day was our Xian ethnic group's traditional hair-washing festival. Early in the morning, everyone, young and old, went to the river to wash their hair. I was wearing a silk Chima, which I really liked, but now I can't remember the color of that Chima. I was looking forward to the hair-washing feast at home in the evening, to sing hair-washing songs with my family and to have a sumptuous dinner. But before the night came, the mudslide happened..."
