And below the heimongmong, all along the ground, were weeds already spilling out over the edges, running wild in every direction.

My mother had a look on her face that I'll never forget. It was one of complete despair and horror, for losing Bing, for being so foolish as to think she could use faith to change fate.

To come so far, to lose so much and to find nothing. -Jing-mei

I discovered that maybe it was fate all along, that faith was just an illusion that somehow you're in control.

Yet part of me also thinks the whole idea makes perfect sense. The three of us, leaving our differences behind, stepping on the plane together, sitting side by side, lifting off, moving West to reach the East.

Wise guy, he not go against wind. In Chinese we say, Come from South, blow with wind -- poom! -- North will follow. Strongest wind cannot be seen.

Isn't hate merely the result of wounded love?