Before long, she pedaled into a lane. There weren’t any sharp bends or big vehicles. No people crowded her way. It was so far an easy ride. Within five minutes, she had passed a snack shop, a primary school and a deserted onestoried black-tiled house, where her parents-in-law had spent half their life in poverty. The lane penetrated between two symmetrical rows of houses with the front gates mostly closed and the front walls painted white or dotted with colorful marble. Some of them looked fancier, some seemed more interesting with a garden, some were rebuilt and to be rebuilt, some only steel skeletons and some just concrete.