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

Once outside the prefectural city, the official road extends southward.

The teams heading southwest and those heading south-central took the same route, which forked later on.

The two groups joined together, forming a vast and impressive procession that stretched as far as the eye could see.

Jiang Xing walked beside the oxcart, looking at the dense crowd in front of him. He calculated in his mind that there were at least a thousand people.

After the group had traveled for about an hour, the officials shouted, "Let's rest! Let's rest!"

The group found an open space and stopped to start a fire and cook. Each household didn't put much rice in their pots, and as soon as they stopped, most of the women and children ran off to dig for wild vegetables.

Unexpectedly, everyone was so frugal. They had just filled up their food supply in the prefectural city and were unwilling to eat more. This must be because they were heading to the southwest, a three-month journey. If there were no places to buy supplies along the official roads, their food supply would only last for three months, so they had to eat sparingly.

The porridge at Wang Laoshi's house was so thin you could see your reflection in it.

Widow Sun's family was even worse off. Her husband had been dead for three years, and she was raising two children by herself. There were only wild vegetables in the pot, and not a single grain of rice in sight.

The Qian family was alright. He was a carpenter and had saved up some money. He bought some grain, but he didn't dare to eat too much. He mixed half of the porridge with wild vegetables.

Granny Zhao added three times the amount of wild vegetables to the porridge, making it a vibrant green that looked unappetizing.

Zhang Gensheng's family still had some grain stored up, but his wife was very shrewd; she would always hide behind the cart when cooking so that no one could see her.

"Eat sparingly," someone said. "It's been three months; who knows if we'll even be able to buy food."

"Wild vegetables are free, dig up lots, they can make up for half a bowl of rice."

Several women went out to dig for wild vegetables together—shepherd's purse, purslane, lamb's quarters—they dug up whatever they could find. Widow Sun dug the most fiercely, her hands covered in mud, and her little hoe was almost smoking from the effort.

Zhang also took her calf to dig, and Jiang Xing didn't stop her. It was good that she was digging; otherwise, if everyone else was digging and only her family wasn't, it would definitely arouse suspicion.

Moreover, eating porridge every day, along with some wild vegetables, is a good idea, at least it increases your vitamin intake.

While Zhang went to dig for wild vegetables, she was in charge of cooking. She lit a fire next to the oxcart, scooped two bowls of coarse rice from the grain bag, and secretly scooped a small bowl of white rice from her storage space. She added some salt, took out a few pieces of dried meat from her bundle, chopped them into small pieces, and mixed them into the rice to cook together. There wasn't much meat, but the porridge had oil droplets, and it smelled delicious.

When she cooked porridge, she deliberately placed the pot behind the oxcart, using the cart to block it. From the outside, all you could see was the steam; you couldn't see what was inside.

When Zhang brought back the wild vegetables she had dug up, she cut them into small pieces and added them to the porridge to cook together.

Jiang Xing lifted the lid of the pot and ladled out four bowls.

"Eat faster," Jiang Xing said, "Don't let anyone see."

Because the porridge contains salt, a little oil, and the aroma of vegetables, it tastes exceptionally sweet.

The four of them finished eating in less than 15 minutes.

Jiang Xing washed the bowls and pots clean and put them into his basket without leaving any trace.

She looked up and glanced around.

Most families were drinking wild vegetable porridge, which was a deep green color. Widow Sun squatted next to the cart, with her two children holding bowls of porridge that were so thin you could see your face reflected in them.

The older one was a boy, seven or eight years old, and the younger one was a girl, four or five years old. Both children were as thin as monkeys.

Carpenter Liu was eating behind his cart, his wife blocking the view of what was in the pot.

Zhang Gensheng's house was even more secluded; he simply placed the pot on a cart and surrounded it with blankets.

Most of them are secretive, but only one is different.

Jiang Dazhu's cart was parked in a conspicuous spot on an open ground, with no one else nearby.

Zhou squatted on the ground to start a fire, while Jiang Qingyue helped beside her. The pot was a size larger than other people's, and there was twice as much rice and meat in it.

It wasn't minced meat, but large chunks of pork, thickly cut, simmering in the pot with a layer of oil floating on top.

The aroma wafted out and could be smelled throughout half the camp.

The children from the neighboring village, drawn by the aroma, cried out, "Mommy, I want to eat meat..."

The mother slapped her child's bottom and hissed, "Eat, eat, eat! What are you eating, meat! Drink your porridge!"

The child cried even harder.

The two children of Widow Sun were also watching that direction with longing eyes. The younger one's lips moved, but he didn't dare to make a sound. Widow Sun put the bowl in the child's hands and said in a tight voice, "Drink the porridge, don't look."

Many people around also glanced at the pot, then shrank back to whisper to their husbands, their voices too soft to be heard.

Jiang Caimao, the clan leader, came over with his family and sat down next to Jiang Dazhu's house. He glanced at the meat in the pot and coughed.

Zhou immediately understood and ladled out a bowl of meat porridge, handing it over: "Clan leader, please try it. My Qingshan said that we need to eat more meat on the road, otherwise we won't have the strength."

Jiang Caimao took the bowl, took a sip, and nodded: "Not bad."

His family members also came over, each serving themselves a bowl. Zhou's face was smiling, but her heart was bleeding, but she dared not refuse.

Jiang Qingshan sat to the side, a book in his hand, his brows furrowed as he looked at the people drinking porridge.

"Father," he said softly, "cook less meat, there's too much."

Jiang Dazhu scoffed, "What's so much? We can afford it, what's there to be afraid of? Don't worry, I still have ten taels of silver left from the money you gave me, and I've already pocketed it."

"It's not that I'm afraid I can't afford it," Jiang Qingshan said in a low voice, "it's that I'm afraid of being targeted."

Jiang Dazhu looked around and saw that there were indeed people looking in his direction, but in those eyes there was envy, jealousy, and greed.

Jiang Dazhu snorted: "What's there to be afraid of? With officials around, who would dare to rob us?"

Jiang Qingshan didn't say anything more; he knew his father wouldn't listen.

Jiang Xing squatted beside the oxcart. She noticed that several people were staring at Jiang Dazhu's cart, their eyes fixed on it, swallowing hard, their greed almost palpable.

One of them, Li Laosan from Lijia Village, was the middle-aged man who chased after them after the village was burned down.

He squatted by the roadside, holding a bowl of wild vegetable porridge in his hand, but his eyes were fixed on Jiang Dazhu's cart, like a hungry wolf eyeing a piece of meat.

There were two others, a man and a woman from Zhoujiazhai. The man was in his thirties and the woman was in her forties, both with a shrewd and calculating look on their faces.

Jiang Xing kept this scene in mind, then looked away.

Starting tonight, she will be keeping watch.

She arranged her sleeping place next to the oxcart, with her back against the wheels and her face outwards, but she did not fall asleep.

There was no activity in the first half of the night.

In the camp, some people were turning over, some were coughing, and some children were crying.

The two children of Widow Sun huddled together under a thin quilt. The younger one cried out in her sleep, and the older one quickly covered her mouth.

The fire had burned down to embers, its dark red glow flickering in the night.

In the latter half of the night, the wind picked up, and Jiang Xing opened his eyes and looked around.

Jiang Dazhu's cart was parked in the middle of the camp, with no obstructions around it.

The vehicle was covered with a coarse cloth, and underneath it bulged, clearly indicating that it was loaded with a lot of things.

No one came near, at least not tonight.

No one was assigned to keep watch at Jiang Dazhu's house. Jiang Dazhu slept soundly, Zhou Shi slept like a log, and Jiang Qingshan turned over a few times, but eventually fell asleep.

She looked away and continued to watch.

Nothing happened for two nights in a row.

The road became increasingly difficult to travel, with uphill and downhill sections. The oxcart moved slowly, and so did the people.

During his lunch break, Jiang Xing saw Jiang Dazhu's family cooking meat porridge again.

This time, there was even more meat.

Zhou probably felt emboldened because nothing had happened the first two times. She cut a whole bowl of salted meat and poured it all into the pot.

The aroma wafted out, and half the people in the camp were salivating.

The two children of Widow Sun stared intently at that spot, the younger one drooling, so the older one quickly pulled her away.

Jiang Qingshan didn't try to persuade him this time. He sat down next to the cart, looking down at his book, but his brow remained furrowed.

Li Laosan squatted by the roadside, clutching an empty bowl in his hand, his eyes fixed on Jiang Dazhu's cart.

The man and woman from Zhoujiazhai also glanced in that direction from time to time.