Sold immediately after wearing it? I took my family and fled the famine.

The news of the burning village was like a bucket of cold water poured over everyone's heads.

That night, almost no one in Jiangjia Village slept soundly. Some kept asking, unwilling to give up, as if asking a few more times would yield a different answer.

Jiang Xing slept for a while, then leaned against the old tree root, her short knife beside her, listening to the sounds around her.

The wind picked up in the middle of the night, so I covered Xiao Niu and Zhang Shi with blankets and let them continue to rest with their eyes closed.

As dawn broke, Shen Dehou called everyone to get up.

"Get up, everyone! We need to keep moving today! Let's try to reach the post station on the main road before dark; there's water there where we can rest!"

No one spoke; everyone silently packed their things, started a fire, and cooked.

Jiang Xing noticed that several households had started to calculate their food intake, and the porridge had changed from thick to thin.

Third Uncle drove the oxcart over, and the calf climbed onto the cart, wrapped himself in a quilt, and continued to sleep. Zhang Shi sat next to him, her face still not looking too good.

"Grandma, have some porridge before you go." Jiang Xing handed her a bowl of porridge.

Zhang took the bowl, drank a couple of sips, and then handed it back to her: "You drink."

Jiang Xing didn't take it: "I've already drunk it, you finish yours."

Zhang glanced at her and didn't refuse anymore.

The sun was just rising when the team set off.

The dew on the official road hadn't dried yet, and it crunched underfoot. Ahead were dark, shadowy figures, and behind were even more.

Jiang Xing walked beside the oxcart, one hand on the shaft and the other tucked into his sleeve.

After walking for about an hour, a group of people caught up with the rest of the group.

They were from the neighboring Zhao Family Village, about fifty people, pushing two carts piled high with goods.

The people from Zhao Family Village and the people from Jiang Family Village knew each other, greeted each other, and then left together.

When there are too many people, the road gets crowded.

In Zhao Family Village, there lived a fat woman surnamed Sun, whose voice was so loud it could shatter glass.

She thought the people from Jiangjia Village were walking too slowly, and shouted from ahead, "Hurry up! Are you taking a stroll or fleeing famine?"

Aunt Wang objected: "If you think it's too slow, then go ahead. Nobody's stopping you!"

"I'll go first then!" Mrs. Sun pushed her cart forward, almost bumping into the stone at Aunt Wang's house.

"Watch out! There's a child!" Aunt Wang grabbed her son, her face turning pale.

"What happened to the child? Who can care for anyone on the road of fleeing famine?"

Seeing that an argument was about to break out, Shen Dehou quickly came over to mediate: "Stop arguing! We're all refugees, let's be considerate of each other!"

The village chief of Zhao Family Village also came over to smooth things over.

Finally, the two families each took a step back, with Zhao Family Village going first and Jiang Family Village going last, leaving a distance of more than ten steps between them.

The calf was woken up by the noise, rubbing its eyes and asking, "Sis, what's wrong?"

"It's okay. Go back to sleep."

"Oh." The calf shrank back into the blankets.

When they took a break, Jiang Laifu started again.

He squatted under a willow tree by the roadside, surrounded by several young men from the village: Zhang Dazhuang from Jiangjia Village, Zhao Xiaohu from Zhaojiazhuang, and two others whose names Jiang Xing couldn't recall.

Jiang Laifu held a piece of bread in his hand, broke off a small piece, put it in his mouth, chewed it a couple of times, and began to say, "You know what? I worked in a grain and oil shop for three years. What haven't I seen?"

"What kind of world are you talking about?" Zhang Dazhuang asked.

"Last autumn, the price of grain rose three times a day: ten coins in the morning, fifteen coins at noon, and twenty coins in the evening. The rich people were grabbing grain like it was their lives, carrying sacks of it home."

Zhao Xiaohu's eyes widened in disbelief: "Twenty coins a pound? Who can afford that?"

"That's why I said you don't understand." Jiang Laifu finished his pancake, clapped his hands, and said, "Doing business isn't about money, it's about information. Whoever knows first that grain prices are going to rise will make a fortune."

"So, did you make a fortune?" Wang Dazhuang asked.

Jiang Laifu choked for a moment: "I...I didn't have the capital. If I had, I would have been rich long ago."

Several young people laughed.

Jiang Laifu, feeling embarrassed, added, "What are you laughing at? What do you know? Let me tell you, once we get to the prefectural city, you'll see what it's like to have your fill of the world."

"Have you been to the prefectural city?" Zhao Xiaohu asked.

"I've never been there, but I've heard the shopkeeper talk about it. The city walls are three zhang high, and the city gates are like caves. Inside, you can find everything: grain shops, cloth shops, pharmacies, restaurants, and more..."

He swallowed the last few words and coughed lightly: "Anyway, we have everything."

Jiang Xing squatted beside the oxcart and overheard most of what they were saying.

Jiang Laifu is right, the prefectural city has everything.

But the problem isn't "what they have," but rather "whether they can afford it."

After listening to their conversation, she thought to herself: once we get to the prefectural city, we'll need to replenish our supplies.

Grain, salt, medicine for wounds, cloth, cotton clothes, and it would be best to buy a few more pairs of shoes, as the soles of Zhang's shoes are almost worn through.

She glanced at the thin shirt on Xiao Niu's body, and then at Zhang's thin shirt.

She couldn't buy it in front of the villagers, so she had to go to the city, find a secluded place, and buy it from the mall.

Jiang Dazhu's family walked in the middle of the procession.

Zhou has been much quieter these past few days, not because she doesn't want to make a fuss, but because she doesn't have the energy to.

My feet were covered in blisters from walking so much that I couldn't sleep at night because of the pain, but I still had to keep walking during the day.

Her face was tanned, her lips were chapped, and her hair was a mess, but her mouth was never idle.

"Qingshan, are you tired? Shall I carry your books for you?"

"No need." Jiang Qingshan didn't even look up, clutching the book tightly in his hands.

No one knows what kind of brainwave Jiang Qingshan had. On the way to escape famine, everyone was busy escaping for their lives, and when they had free time, they would dig for wild vegetables and chop firewood, but he was still holding onto a tattered book and wouldn't let go for a moment.

Jiang Qingshan didn't care what others said. He walked with his eyes straight ahead, ate slowly and carefully, and spoke sparingly. In his view, he was not the same kind of person as these peasants.

Jiang Qingyue was more down-to-earth than him, but only to a limited extent.

She was wearing a light blue cloth dress, and although her hair was disheveled by the wind, she tried her best to comb it neatly. The bundle on her back was larger than others', and it contained not only food and bedding, but also embroidery and tools that she had brought back from the embroidery workshop.

"Moon, can you carry it? Let me help you carry some." Zhou Shi said, feeling sorry for her daughter.

"No need," Jiang Qingyue said through gritted teeth. "These are all my hard work; I can't throw them away."

She glanced at Jiang Xing by the roadside. Jiang Xing was squatting next to the oxcart, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows, his hands covered in mud, and a streak of ash on his face.

Jiang Qingyue frowned and looked away.

"Mother, that Jiang Daya has already signed the severance agreement and been expelled from the clan by the clan leader, yet she still walks the same path as us. Doesn't she feel guilty?" Jiang Qingyue lowered her voice.

"What's there to be ashamed of? That girl has a thick skin." Zhou Shi curled her lip. "Your father said she definitely still has money on her hands; she hasn't spent all the money from selling the wild boar."

"That has nothing to do with us."

"How can it be alright?" Madam Zhou glared at her daughter. "She's just a little girl, with so much money, she'll be swindled out of it sooner or later. Rather than letting others cheat her, it's better to..."

She didn't finish her sentence, but Jiang Qingyue understood.

It would be better to have a family member "keep it safe".

Jiang Qingyue didn't speak. She felt that her mother was wrong, but she didn't want to argue with her mother. She just glanced at Jiang Xing again, her gaze filled with something indescribable.