In this village, there probably wasn't any need for alarms, as from around three or four o'clock in the morning, the crowing of roosters would start to resonate, a cacophony swelling and fading in turns.
Many elderly folks would wake up at this time, brewing porridge and steaming buns, heading out to water and fertilize the vegetable fields.
On the leaves of vegetables in the crisp morning, glistening dewdrops still clung, making them the most delicious when picked and stir-fried at this hour.
A bit later, around six or seven, daylight would break, and the village would fully awaken.
From each household, wisps of cooking smoke rose up, the elders would sit at their doorsteps on small stools, nodding and greeting neighbors passing by with heavy loads, chatting about household trifles.
Little yellow dogs would roll on the ground on their backs, occasionally wagging their tails and barking once or twice, at which point the children would share some of their snacks with them.
