Qin Dynasty: Who offended my frail and sickly minister?

The youngest child had endured for an unknown amount of time when he heard a jumble of footsteps overhead, along with the rough, hoarse sounds of the villains arguing.

The stone slab, which originally had only a single ventilation gap, was suddenly moved to the side, making the gap much wider.

The blinding sunlight poured down, piercing the darkness of the cellar and falling on the children's dusty, tear-streaked faces, causing everyone to close their eyes and turn their heads away.

The youngest child was also startled and closed his eyes, but soon stubbornly tried to squint a crack, held his breath, and pricked up his ears to catch every sound above.

The leader of the thugs kicked the earthen wall beside him, his rough voice revealing undisguised ferocity as he sternly rebuked his accomplices:

"Hurry up, all of you! Don't dawdle. This batch of goods has to be sold off as soon as the time is up. If you delay things, you'll be in big trouble!"

A man next to him immediately echoed with a fawning smile, spitting hard into his palm while clutching the rough hemp rope in his hand:

"Don't worry, boss. These little brats have been starving for days. They're so weak they don't even have the strength to cry. They won't dare to make a fuss. Just bring them up one by one!"

As soon as the words were spoken, several large, dusty hands with rough knuckles rushed down into the cellar, their fingertips carrying a chilling dampness. Like young animals being dragged to slaughter, they grabbed the children's arms or the back of their necks and roughly pulled them upwards.

The child, who was being held, burst into tears, flailing his little hands in a desperate struggle. But he was no match for the strength of the adult man and was quickly lifted out of the cellar and slammed onto the hard ground.

Before they could get up, the thugs had already unfurled the thick hemp ropes they had prepared beforehand, pressed down on the children's thin shoulders with one hand, and with a flick of their wrists, ruthlessly bound the children's hands and feet tightly.

The knot was tied so tightly that it seemed to be embedded in their tender flesh, causing them pain and making it impossible for them to move an inch.

The bound children, like piled-up objects, were carelessly tossed onto the empty ground next to the stove, huddled together, trembling, and sobbing in suppressed spitting.

The first ones to be dragged up were all children that the thugs had repeatedly picked over in the past few days. They were children with regular features, young age, and the best price to be sold, and they were all vying for "ownership" of them.

As soon as a thug with a fierce face threw the tied-up boy to his feet, another tall, thin man immediately stepped forward, grabbed the boy by the collar, and tried to drag him behind him.

The thug with the fierce face immediately objected, his eyes widening, and he reached out to grab the child's foot:

"Hey! What are you doing! Put him down, this boy is mine!"

"Why should I? Because I personally abducted this boy, dragged him into the alley from the street, so he rightfully belongs to me!" The tall, thin man gripped the knot tightly, refusing to budge an inch, and retorted sharply.

The little boy was being pulled around by them, feeling both pain and fear. He cried loudly and struggled desperately, twisting his body, but to no avail. He was completely ignored.

"Bullshit!" The burly thug shoved the tall, thin man hard, nearly knocking him over. "If I hadn't deliberately bumped into the kid's parents, leading that stupid couple in the opposite direction, would you have been able to take him away so easily? You would have been caught in the street long ago! I deserve most of the credit for this kid's success!"

"Why should I? I've been watching this kid for three whole days before I found the right moment to strike. It's not your place to steal the credit!" The tall, thin man steadied himself, clenched his fists, and growled defiantly.

The two pushed and shoved each other, and it looked like they were about to start fighting.

The boy was finally thrown to the ground, but he couldn't even cry anymore, only gasping for breath.

Seeing this, another short, fat thug stepped forward, grabbed the boy, glanced at him, and then, feigning to break up the fight, shouted about dividing the loot:

"Alright, alright, stop arguing! Once we've sold these kids and made some money, we'll split it equally among ourselves. Let's tie up the rest first, so we don't delay our business!"

"Split it evenly? Bah!" The burly man spat immediately, his eyes sweeping over the other man with disdain, his face full of contempt. "You were just keeping watch outside the whole time, you didn't even touch the goods, and you dare to dream of splitting the money evenly? Dream on!"

The argument escalated, with the group pushing, shoving, and hurling insults at each other, their spittle flying everywhere. They were so focused on vying for credit and dividing the children among themselves that they failed to notice the already loosely covered stone slab, which was further warped by their movements, widening the gap at the cellar entrance.

But the youngest child, who had been staring intently at the crack, noticed.

A glimmer of light suddenly appeared in her dry eyes, and her small body trembled slightly uncontrollably.

The youngest child quietly stood up, bracing himself against the cold earthen wall. He tiptoed onto the old stone trough at the bottom, tilted his head back, and desperately stretched out his little hand toward the light.

She desperately tiptoed, her fingertips barely touching the edge of the stone slab, brushing off some dust, but she couldn't get a grip. She slipped several times, her palms aching from the friction.

The youngest child gritted his teeth and stubbornly tried again and again.

But she was still young and small, and no matter how hard she tried, raising her arms until they ached and jumping to reach them, she couldn't muster any strength.

Just a little higher, and she could grab the edge of the stone and squeeze through...

The youngest child's eyes started to sting with tears again.

"You can get up there by stepping on me!"

A soft voice suddenly came from behind, breaking the silence of the cellar and startling the youngest child. She stumbled and fell straight down the stone trough.

She instinctively closed her eyes, but the expected pain of hitting the ground did not come. Instead, she was gently protected by a pair of warm little hands.

She opened her eyes and found an older woman standing beside her.

Not just her—

By the faint light filtering through the cracks in the rocks, the youngest child could finally see that there were several other children in the cellar, who were also struggling to stand up and moving step by step toward them.

They too were gathering their strength, staring intently at the crack, their eyes filled with the same longing for home as their youngest child.

Before the youngest child could react, the older sister had already bent down, patted her shoulder, and lowered her head: "Step on me to get up. You're small, but you're strong. Only you can squeeze through!"

Her voice was still trembling, but her eyes were exceptionally bright.

"After you get out, go find my father. He sells cloth in the East Market of Luoyang. Tell him we're here, and he'll definitely come to rescue us!"

"But..." the youngest child opened his mouth.

"Don't hesitate!" the older sister interrupted her abruptly, her voice low but filled with anxiety. "They'll be done arguing soon, and it'll be too late if you don't leave now!"

As she spoke, she gripped the stone trough tightly with both hands, bracing herself against it: "Quickly, step onto it! You can definitely escape! You must call someone back to save us!"

"Okay, I will! I will definitely find someone to come back and save you!" The youngest child pursed her dry, bleeding lips, her little face full of determination. She nodded vigorously, lifted her foot, and steadily stepped onto her older sister's shoulder.

The few children who still had a little strength left immediately gathered around silently, without making a sound.

Some children reached out and held their youngest child's swaying body tightly to help her stabilize her center of gravity; some used all their remaining strength to hold her feet up; and some slightly older children squatted down without hesitation and piled up next to the stone trough, also serving as her stepping stones.

A group of small figures, in the dark and sunless cellar, used their last bit of strength to entrust all their hope for life to their youngest child.

Lifted up by these combined forces, the youngest child finally reached the gap.

The narrow crevice remained confined, and the sharp edges of the stone scraped against the little girl's thin clothes, leaving scratches on her body. A faint pain spread, but she was oblivious to it, clinging tightly to the stone slab with both hands, trying her best to squeeze upwards.

The children below were also straining, their eyes red. When one child couldn't hold on and collapsed, another child immediately gritted their teeth and stepped up. The figures at the youngest's feet changed again and again, until finally...

The youngest child lay sprawled on the stone slab.

She dared not pause for a moment, scrambling to her feet and running desperately outside while the thugs were distracted.

pity--

"Who the hell opened the door? Some little bastard ran away! Go after him!"