For Survivors of Sichuan Quake, the Hard Lessons of Starting Over

That was not the case for Cheng Xingfeng and her family.

"We don't want to go back to Beichuan. There are still lots of refugees there," said her husband, He, sitting on one of the restaurant's metal stools, which are arrayed around its four tables, covered with simple oilcloths and plastic baskets of disposable chopsticks. "We want to keep having this restaurant, to be honored as Beichuan people," He said.

They don't charge much. The most expensive item on their menu is about $4.50. A bowl of noodles costs 75 cents. Cheng paid about $850 to rent the space for two months; most of that money comes from a government compensation payment made for the loss of her son, plus a loan from He's brother.

But they don't want charity, Cheng quickly added. Soon after they opened the restaurant June 27, one person stopped by to ask if they really were from Beichuan. When Cheng said yes, he left a 50-yuan note on the table, about $7.50, and left without ordering any food. Cheng was upset. "If that kept happening, I couldn't take it," she said.

So when the next person inquired about Beichuan, Cheng lied and said they were from Chongqing, a municipality next to Sichuan that largely escaped damage. Soon, Internet chat rooms exploded with anger, accusing Cheng of being an impostor, cruelly playing on people's sympathies by saying she was from Beichuan to earn a few bucks. Chinese bloggers swarmed the place to find out the truth. On July 12, the graffiti appeared, even though the Internet buzz had calmed after a Chinese journalist did a story confirming Cheng and her husband were Beichuan residents.

There have been other issues. Local representatives of the Commerce and Industrial Bureau have visited the restaurant twice, warning Cheng she must apply for a license to operate and that she has to strike "Beichuan" from the name because regulations forbid place names on restaurant signs and menus. The health department came by last week and said her place was too small and not up to sanitary standards, even though there had been a restaurant operating in this location before.

Pondering these challenges, Cheng grows silent. She hunches over, one arm wrapped around her waist and the other bent on a table, her hand propping up her chin as she gazes at a portrait of herself and her son in a white and gold frame. Tears start.

"We have been through so many hardships these two months," she says softly. "I have to hold on. The earthquake was a huge disaster. We survived that. No matter how hard, I will hold on to the last minute. I want the restaurant to be a success."

Researcher Liu Liu contributed to this report.