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Schools Fell While Other Buildings Held
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In the days since the quake, Fuxin has become a town divided.
Those who lost a child -- their only, because of China's one-child policy -- have bonded together and kept a constant vigil at the school.
Those whose children survived have avoided the school and, in some cases, have decided it is best to act as though nothing ever happened.
On Tuesday, for instance, while Liu was on her way back home from visiting the spot where her son, Xingpeng, has been buried, a neighbor whose daughter survived told her she had heard the semester's exams would be postponed as a result of the quake. Did Liu know anything about that?
Liu politely shook her head and continued home, where she finds comfort in her son's things.
There are the goldfish and turtles her husband gave Xingpeng a few days before the quake. There's the loquat tree that he had been so eager to eat from that he counted the pieces of fruit each day. And then there are the best things, Liu said, the signs of his mischief: the stickers of pop stars on the walls, the broken decorations, the ruined potatoes he pulled out from the ground before they were ready to be eaten.
Researcher Crissie Ding contributed to this report.
