The little one's purse connects the two worlds, turning a desolate village into a paradise.

(Thanks to Wuyuzi, Liu@Chuanfeng, and Qishiovo for the gifts!)

The next morning was the Cold Food Festival.

Everyone gathered in the courtyard.

The sky was a bit darker than yesterday, but it didn't look like it was going to rain.

Looking up, a thin layer of clouds floated in the sky, wispy and delicate, like cotton wadding torn apart and carelessly scattered across the heavens.

The sun was hidden behind these wispy clouds, which partially obscured the edges of the surrounding clouds, casting a cold, white glow.

The village chief stood at the gate of the courtyard, shading his eyes with his hand, and gazed at the mountain peak to the east for a long time.

On the mountain ridge, those wispy clouds slowly climbed, neither gathering nor dispersing.

He lowered his hand, letting out a muffled sigh: "It looks like there won't be any rain this year."

Old Sun behind him also looked up at the sky, "If there's no rain during Qingming Festival, the spring seedlings will have a hard time taking root..."

The wind emerged from the mountain valley, carrying a lingering coolness, blowing past the village chief's clothes and into Granny Liu's small courtyard.

The stove, which had been burning brightly, was now cold and ashes had been cleaned out. Without Ji Chuntao's spatula sounds, it felt strangely deserted.

The two chicks in the henhouse chirped a few times. Ya Ya clapped her hands and took out a large bucket of still steaming hot yogurt from her space, along with a lot of cornbread and sausages.

The rising steam is like a pebble thrown into stagnant water, light and airy, yet it brings a lively atmosphere to the day.

"In previous years, we ate cold, hard flatbreads from cold stoves and cold pots. When the harvest was a little better, the government would come to inspect and wouldn't allow even a spark to be seen, which made my stomach ache. This year, there's no fire on the stove, but we can still feel the warmth!" Niu Cuihua said loudly, rubbing her hands together as she began to distribute the food to the villagers, bowl by bowl.

The cold and unbearable Cold Food Festival seemed to fly by because of the warmth.

On the day of Qingming Festival, as soon as it was light, the whole village got ready and went together to walk into the deep mountains behind the village.

Everyone carried baskets filled with dry food and snacks.

Ya Ya took one of each kind of food she had collected in the space: tender braised pork, juicy duck legs, the novel stinky snail rice noodles, red sausages, corn cakes... She arranged them neatly and orderly in front of her parents' small earthen mound where their old clothes were buried.

After doing all this, Ya Ya obediently knelt on the green and yellow grass, her little hands folded in front of her, and earnestly kowtowed three times to the mound.

The village chief, Granny Liu, Fang Tiesheng, Zhao Hu...

The entire village, young and old, followed suit, bowing in respect. Everyone remembered that the little purse was left by Ya Ya's mother, and that it was Ya Ya's family who saved Lotus Village. They were all benefactors of Lotus Village.

The crowd of worshippers slowly retreated to the side, while those who had not yet paid their respects at their own family graves went in twos and threes to find the graves of their relatives.

Ya Ya leaned quietly against the small mound, her cheek pressed against the cool wooden tablet, her soft, delicate whispers drifting gently in the wind.

"Daddy, Mommy, I brought you lots of delicious food. There are corn pancakes, fragrant duck legs, and snail rice noodles. Although it smells stinky, it tastes very good. You've never tried it before, so you must eat more of it."

Mom, the little pouch you gave me has a duck living in it. She took me to a magical place where there are many kind people. The village roads used to be blocked, and Grandpa and Grandma couldn't walk anymore. Luckily, the duck in the little pouch took me out and brought me back lots and lots of food.

Life is so much better in the village now. My grandma dotes on me, and Grandpa Fang taught me to read. I know a lot of characters now, and I can even write my mother's name. My father's name is a bit complicated, so I haven't been able to learn it yet...

I've also made many new friends: Grandma Wang, who's the first one to come buy wild vegetables every day; Sister He Miao, who helps me buy medicine; Sister with ripped pants; Uncle the shopkeeper; and Aunt Cao, who tastes just like my mother. These past two days I've also met Aunt Cao's son, Brother Zhao. Brother Zhao is chubby; he's probably eaten a lot.

A gentle breeze was blowing.

She dried Grandma Liu's reddened eyes, gently stroked the stray hairs by Ya Ya's ears, and the sparse grass on both sides touched them lightly, as if responding gently and silently.

……

A bowl of thin vegetable soup, so clear you could see the bottom, was shoved into his dark hand: "Sanya, this bowl of soup is for you."

Sanya held the cold, rough pottery bowl and looked up.

"Brother, I'm not hungry."

"Eat something even if you're not hungry, we still have to travel soon." Yan Erzhu's chapped lips pursed slightly, his eyes filled with unyielding anxiety.

For more than half a month, no rain had fallen since we left the town and headed south. More and more people were fleeing the famine, and the city gates of the southern cities were closed tighter and tighter. The garrison soldiers did not allow the refugees to enter the city to beg for food, and their way of survival became narrower and narrower.

Troubles never ceased along the way.

The villagers, who were initially united, gradually revealed their complexities as food dwindled and the land grew drier.

Some people scolded him for sharing food with outsiders. They said that the flatbread could be kept and used to make a big bowl of porridge, which would be enough to last them a day.

Some people privately advised him, "Your sister is pretty; why not sell her to a wealthy family over there as a maid and exchange her for a few bags of grain..."

Yan Erzhu clenched his fists tightly and refused; he could not sell his sister.

He originally thought that once he spoke up, everyone would give up on the idea.

A few nights later, the village's old bachelor sneaked over while everyone was asleep, intending to take Sanya away. If Erzhu hadn't been alert, Sanya would have been sold by them.

Knowing that he couldn't protect his sister if he stayed with the group, Yan Erzhu chose to take Sanya away from the crowd and travel alone.

Looking at the endless road ahead, shrouded in dust, Yan Erzhu's unease grew heavier and heavier. It was now Qingming Festival, but not a single drop of rain had fallen. The southern plains were open and exposed, offering no place to hide.

Going any further will only lead to certain death.

"Let's go back." Yan Erzhu sighed heavily and picked up the shrunken bundle from the ground.

"Brother, I've drunk half of it, you drink it." Sanya handed the bowl to Erzhu.

Yan Erzhu looked at the barely touched soup in the bowl, and without refusing, silently picked up the bowl and drank the soup in one gulp.

Given the current drought, widespread drought is almost a certainty this year, and only the deep mountains can currently provide shelter for the brother and sister.

I don't know if Da Niu and the others are still alive.

Shaking off his chaotic thoughts, Yan Erzhu helped Sanya, and the two of them turned back step by step, leaving shallow footprints on the dry mud, which were quickly smoothed out by the wind.