Famine and Chaos: Weaving Cloth in Exile to Escape the War

"This is a fictional story, set in a fictional dynasty. It does not reflect any historical fact. The author is a bit eccentric, so please feel free to leave if you don't like it. Writing is hard work, so please don't leave negative reviews! Thank you all."

The first year of the Great Zhou Dynasty.

Mid-November.

The border of Liangzhou in Northwest China.

In a deserted village, in a thatched hut, nineteen-year-old Jing Zhichun lay on a straw mat, her body thin and bony, yet her abdomen was shockingly large, which stood out starkly against her slender frame, making her a frightening sight.

This was a harsh, cold place, with a thatched hut exposed to the biting wind and snow, yet her forehead was covered in beads of sweat that clung to her pale face, making her appear incredibly weak.

"Xiaoman..."

Despite the pain in her abdomen, Kyoto Haru turned to her four-year-old daughter, Kyo Xiaoman, and said with all her might, "Mother probably won't make it... From now on, you have to find your own way to survive, you must live on..."

Four-year-old Xiaoman was kneeling beside the bed, equally thin and emaciated.

Her large eyes filled with tears, and she sobbed uncontrollably, "Mother, don't say that... You will definitely give birth to my brother safely... I... I'll go find my aunt right now!"

After saying that, Jing Xiaoman staggered to her feet, stumbled and ran out of the thatched hut, and plunged into the cold wind swirling with snowflakes outside the door.

As Kyoto Haru watched her daughter stumble away, her vision began to blur.

She knew her life was coming to an end, but she was unwilling to die like this.

If it weren't for that night's entanglement with Shen Qingzhou, I wouldn't have this child in my womb.

She slowly raised her withered hand and gently placed it on her swollen belly. Feeling the faint fetal movement at her fingertips, Kyoto Haru felt a sharp pain in her heart.

This child, who had never opened his eyes to see the world, ultimately never had the chance to be born.

And she will die here because of this difficult childbirth.

If it weren't for this child, she might not have met such an end, and she certainly wouldn't have died in this desolate northwestern frontier.

However, there is never a way back in this world, nor is there any "what if".

With her last ounce of strength, Kyoto Haru turned her head and gazed longingly outside.

The vast expanse of white snow covered one mountain after another, stretching endlessly, yet seemingly close at hand; the cold, clear snow light stung the eyes.

Deep in those snow-capped mountains, her husband, Shen Qingzhou, was engaged in hard labor.

His heart, however, was like the snow-capped mountain that never melts, cold, hard, and distant.

Perhaps he never wanted this child to be born, much less wanted her to live.

As Shen Qingzhou's cold gaze towards her flashed through her mind over the past year, Jing Zhichun's last bit of obsession gradually dissipated with the cold wind.

She slowly closed her eyes, and as her long eyelashes drooped, they also concealed all the resentment and sorrow in her eyes.

Xiaoman walked barefoot across the frozen snow, and after running for the time it takes to burn an incense stick, she finally arrived at another slightly tidy thatched hut.

She knelt outside the tightly closed wooden door, pleading, "Aunt... please go see my mother... my mother is about to give birth, she, she's not doing well, please go see my mother..."

Inside the room, the woman, Shen Wangshi, was startled by the sound. She put down her needlework and was about to get up when the man beside her pressed her down.

"Don't go!" Shen Qingshan's face was cold and stern. "Jing's pregnancy is likely to end badly, possibly resulting in the death of both mother and child. If that's the case... it would actually be a good thing for Qingzhou."

Madam Shen was taken aback: "What are you saying, sir? Jing is, after all, Qingzhou's lawfully wedded wife, our sister-in-law. How can we just stand by and watch her die?"

"A proper marriage?"

Shen Qingshan interrupted with a cold laugh, "If the Jing family hadn't been so powerful back then, forcing their daughter into our Shen family, how could Qingzhou have been branded a traitor? If the Jing family hadn't chosen the wrong side, how could we have been purged by the new emperor and exiled to this desolate place?"

"That may be true, but the Jing family has also been kind to us. In the early years, Qingzhou's tuition, food, clothing, and lodging in the capital were all helped by the Jing family. How could you and I, mere peasants, possibly support a scholar who could pass the imperial examination? Moreover, if it weren't for the Jing family, Qingzhou wouldn't have been able to gain a foothold in the court in the early years." Madam Shen retorted, somewhat dissatisfied with her husband's words.

Shen Qingshan sneered, "Qingzhou was full of talent and learning. Even without the support of the Jing family, she could have made a name for herself in the court. But what about now? The Jing family has fallen, and our Shen family has also become criminals! Her marriage to Jing Zhichun was a scheme from the start. Now that she's dead, it's perfect for making room for her. Don't forget, Qingzhou has never been able to let go of Wanning."

Lady Shen opened her mouth, but ultimately fell silent, and the pity in her eyes gradually disappeared.

"Fine... I'll do as you say, but we'll have to wait until Kyo no Haru is completely dead before we go back. She has food there..."

Outside the door, Xiaoman's ear twitched as she pressed it against the door panel, hearing everything that was being said inside.

She slowly stopped crying, wiped her face with her hand, stood up, didn't bang on the door, and didn't beg anymore. She turned around and walked home.

When they returned to their thatched hut, the straw curtain had been blown open by the wind.

Kyoto Haru lay quietly on the withered straw mat, her face pale and lifeless.

Jing Xiaoman stumbled to the edge of the tatami mat, her small body tightly embracing Jing Zhichun's cold arm, and burst into tears, shaking her lifeless body repeatedly.

"Mother, please wake up?"

"Mother, I beg you, please don't leave me..."

No matter how much she cried out or shook her, Kyo no Haru kept her eyes closed and did not respond at all; her body temperature gradually dropped.

Jing Xiaoman cried for an unknown amount of time until her throat became hoarse and sore. She got up and walked out of the thatched hut in a daze. The cold wind, carrying snowflakes, rushed over her instantly. In no time, the snow covered her hair and shoulders.

Before them lay a vast expanse of white snow, a desolate and bleak landscape, offering no refuge for the mother and daughter.

She's so young, where could she possibly go?

In the end, Jing Xiaoman moved back to the thatched hut, walked step by step to the bed, slowly knelt down, her small body straight, and respectfully kowtowed three times in the direction of Jing Zhichun.

"Mother, I'm sorry to disappoint you."

After saying that, she climbed onto the straw mat, curled up in Jing Zhichun's cold and stiff arms, gently held her mother's already cold fingers with her small hands, and closed her eyes.

Outside, the snow fell silently, layer upon layer, gradually covering the rugged paths of the desolate village, and also concealing the last trace of smoke under the thatched eaves.