​​After two earthquakes in Beijing in 1976, my aunt, at the age of 11, took the train to Hefei alone to join her family:
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"It was raining heavily that day, and I was soaked even in a raincoat and with an umbrella. Dad took me to the train, told the conductor to take care of me, and instructed me never to give up my seat or have to stand for a whole day. Refugees quickly crammed the train. An older man was eating a rotten peach next to me. The juice dripped down his arm onto my pants, but I dared not to speak or move. As I waited for the connecting train, groups of children were begging for food. They all stared at me as I took out dad's hard-boiled egg. I was so nervous, I dropped the unpeeled egg after just one bite. Many children instantly threw themselves over the egg and fought to shove it in their mouths. Other children gathered around me and reached out their dirty hands to my chin while desperately staring at me. I was terrified. I tightly held onto my travel bag and closed my eyes until they left. As the train passed by the flooded area, I saw disaster victims in water, on rooftops, and tree branches, waiting for rescue. Countless victims were begging alongside the train tracks, and many of us threw down all the food we had."

In the evening, my then 8-year-old mom was more than delighted than ever to finally see her sister.