In the following three years, a great many workers and soldiers were dispatched by the local government to the region to transport the burned trees.
"Many trees in the burnt area were still alive after the fire. And as it was spring when the fire broke out, many trees were germinating, and in spite of being burnt a little by the fire, they continued to grow. But experts from the Beijing Forestry University suggested all the burnt trees be transported elsewhere, because according to them, even if those trees were able to live on, plant diseases might spread in the forest later," an official of the Xilinji Forestry Bureau recalls.

Their advice was heeded, and a massive effort to remove burned trees began. "Some of the burnt trees that escaped being cut have been growing well. Time has proven that we should have chosen a different path," says a retired official, adding that both the fire and the wide-scale cutting down of burnt trees were two unprecedented disasters for the forest.

During the cutting, over eight million cubic meters of timber was logged each year, twice the normal annual volume. As more and more timber went into the market, timber prices began dropping.

In response to contractors' desire to log good timber, some government officials made big profits by renting areas with good timber to them. But with too much timber piling up in storage and waiting for sale, forest farms couldn't pay their workers on time. "The fire brought fortune to the government officials, but caused misery to the workers," says a worker of one forest farm.

Locals had began leaving the area en masse since the early 1990s. "Form the most northern Heilongjiang province to the most southern Hainan province, Daxing'an people can be found everywhere," says Zhang Fujiang, a retired official.

No one knows exactly how many people had left the area. "Anyone who could find a way left. If they were admitted to university, or had relatives elsewhere, or had some connections, or were simply rich enough, they left, " says Zhang.

Thanks to the harsh climate—winter lasts eight months every year--and the barren soil there, the only crops that can be cultivated are potatoes and beans. The cold weather, the coarse living condition, and the areas over-reliance on one industry drove locals away.

By 1997, the accumulative stumpage of the Daxing'an Mountain had dropped from 570 million cubic meters to 170 million cubic meters. Meanwhile, the Daxing'an Forestry Corporation lost a total 120 million yuan, and owed a debt of 2.4 billion yuan, among which 400 million was still owed to unpaid workers.

Locals who had built their livelihoods on logging were helpless. As China had begun embracing market-oriented economic reforms, many small collective companies, which had long clung to big state-owned enterprises, were going bankrupt. Then came the layoffs.

"The 540,000 people in Daxing'an were confronted with the question of survival. And the only thing that occurred to them was logging," Zuo recalls.

But some had to stay, including the above-mentioned Wang Zaikun, a 63-year-old man who used to work for the Hedong Forest Farm.

After several difficult years, the farm shifted its attention onto the Fuke Mountain, which is 150 kilometers away.

In 2002, almost whole farm began moving to downtown Mohe, only leaving behind three households, one of which being Wang and his family's. "Had I moved downtown, I would have had to buy a new house, which I couldn't afford at all. Besides, I'm used to life here and don't want to change," he says.

After the farm moved out, there was no more power or water supply, or shuttles to downtown. A radio is the only electric appliance in his house. His three kids are all away from home, and he survives on his 900 yuan monthly pension.