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

A month after fleeing the famine, the weather changed completely.

The temperature dropped overnight, and the snow stopped melting. It froze on the ground, layer upon layer, pressing into a hard, solid ice shell. The road was covered in frost, a thin, glistening layer of ice that felt like stepping on a porcelain bowl; one wrong step and you'd slip and fall.

The oxcart couldn't move anymore; the oxen's hooves slipped on the ice, slipping with every step. The oxen panted heavily, and the white mist from their nostrils condensed into frost in the air. Uncle San led the ox in front, while Jiang Xing pushed the cart from behind, the two of them inching forward.

Zhang and Xiao Niu sat on the cart, too afraid to move. If they moved even slightly, the cart would slide to the side, scaring Xiao Niu so much that he clung tightly to the edge of the cart, his face turning pale.

"Sis, this road is so slippery, I'd better get off and walk," said Xiao Niu.

"Sit still. Once this is over and you're calm, you can get down," Jiang Xing said. Her voice was broken by the wind.

Jiang Xing looked down at his cotton shoes, which he had bought in Fucheng. The soles were worn through, and his toes were sticking out of the holes, turning purple from the cold.

The shoes were hardened by the ice and snow, like two pieces of iron wrapped around her feet. She didn't say anything and continued pushing the cart.

Uncle San's cotton shoes were also worn out. Neither of them said anything. One led the ox in front, and the other pushed the cart behind, walking forward step by step.

The groups heading towards the central and southern regions and those heading towards the southwest are still walking together.

The road became increasingly difficult to traverse. The group looked much the same as before, but no one noticed if anyone was missing. Out of more than 800 people, no one could count how many had gotten lost or fallen behind.

Jiang Caimao walked at the front of the group, his expression growing increasingly grim.

As the clan leader, he was disregarded on the road to escape famine. The village chief, Shen Dehou, had more influence than him, and the official, Ma Dadan, had more influence than him. He was just a figurehead, and no one took him seriously.

Jiang Dazhu and his family followed behind him.

Jiang Dazhu's cart was almost empty of grain, and the porridge he cooked every day was so thin you could see your reflection in it. Zhou Shi stopped wailing, not because she didn't want to, but because she didn't have the strength to waile anymore.

She was so thin that her cheekbones protruded and her eye sockets were sunken, making her look like a walking skeleton.

Jiang Qingshan had also lost weight, but he still stubbornly maintained his scholarly demeanor, reading a few pages every night by the light of fire. The pages were yellowed from the smoke, and the edges were curled up.

Of course, that was after he saw the figures inside reading books through the carriage window not far from where the Chen family's carriage had stopped, so he quickly followed suit and started reading as well.

Jiang Erzhu's family isn't doing much better. Liu's careful budgeting has only kept them afloat for a month, and now they're almost at their breaking point.

The grain sack was mostly empty, and wild vegetables filled most of the pot. Jiang Laifu's face was no longer round; he had lost weight and his chin was now pointed.

Jiang Caiyun was even thinner, like a bamboo pole that swayed in the wind. She was already a woman of few words, but now she was even more silent. She walked with her head down every day, following behind Liu Shi like a shadow.

Liu was still the most enthusiastic about digging for wild vegetables, but the weather was too cold and the ground was covered in ice, so she couldn't dig them out.

She used a sickle to pry open the ice, and after a long time, her fingers were bleeding from the cold, but she managed to pry out only a small handful.

"This awful weather," Liu cursed, stuffing the wild vegetables into the basket and continuing to pry them open.

Yang Cuihua and her family walked at the back of the group.

After being scolded and driven away by Shen Dehou last time, Yang Cuihua behaved herself for a few days, but her mother-in-law, Granny Li, kept harboring ill intentions.

Every day, Granny Li would squat in the shed, glancing in Jiang Xing's direction. She saw Jiang Xing's family living in an oilcloth shed, saw the cotton-padded jacket Jiang Xing was wearing, and saw the calf wrapped up like a round ball, and her heart would ache.

"Cuihua, has your daughter really stopped recognizing you?" Granny Li asked.

"I don't acknowledge it," Yang Cuihua said in a very indifferent tone.

"You're her biological mother, and she doesn't acknowledge you, aren't you going to make a scene?"

"Oh no, you went last time too, and you got yelled at and sent back."

Granny Li choked for a moment, her face turning pale: "That was because the village chief was meddling. If it weren't for him..."

"Mother, forget it." Yang Cuihua was naturally unconvinced, but she felt guilty in the face of what the village chief had said.

"Let it go? Why should we let it go?" Granny Li glared at her. "Your daughter has food and drink, while we're left here starving. How can you live with that?"

Yang Cuihua fell silent.

Granny Li gritted her teeth, thought for a long time, and then said, "She doesn't acknowledge you, does she? We won't acknowledge her. But that little brat, isn't he your son? He's your son, don't you have the right to take responsibility for him?"

Yang Cuihua raised her head and looked at Granny Li.

"Listen to me," Granny Li leaned closer and lowered her voice, "Let's not look for her, let's look for the little brat. Children will follow whoever treats them well. Go and hang around him a lot, give him some food, and call him 'son' a few times. His heart will soften, and then your daughter will come looking for you, won't she?"

Yang Cuihua frowned.

"Mother, will this work?"

"Of course! That's your son! You can take your own son and leave, who has the right to stop you?"

She knew in her heart that the calf wouldn't soften.

Despite his young age, that child has a keen eye; he can tell clearly who is genuinely kind to him and who is just pretending.

But she dared not contradict her mother-in-law. In her new husband's home, her mother-in-law had the final say, and if she dared to say "no," she would be scolded when she got home.

"I'll try again later." Yang Cuihua lowered her head and stopped talking.

Granny Li snorted and said nothing more, but her eyes kept looking in Jiang Xing's direction.

The next day, Yang Cuihua really went.

She carried a bowl of wild vegetable porridge to Jiang Xing's oxcart. The calf was sitting on the cart, wrapped in a cotton-padded coat, munching on a piece of bread.

"Little Niu." Yang Cuihua squatted down and handed him the bowl: "Mom cooked some porridge for you, have some."

The calf glanced at her, then at the porridge in the bowl. The porridge was so thin you could see your reflection in it, with a few wild vegetable leaves floating in it, and not even a drop of oil.

"No need," said the calf, continuing to nibble on his biscuit.

"You're choking on the pancakes, have some porridge to help."

"No need." Little Niu hid the pancake behind his back.

Yang Cuihua, feeling embarrassed, raised her voice: "I'm your mother! How dare you talk to me like that?"

Jiang Xing walked over and stood in front of Xiao Niu: "He told you it wasn't necessary, didn't you hear him?"

"Jiang Daya, don't go too far."

"You weren't his mother the day you remarried. You chose this path yourself, so don't pretend now." Jiang Xing said bluntly, "Let's go."

Yang Cuihua's face flushed red. She opened her mouth, as if to say something, when a voice came from beside her.

"Hey, isn't this Cuihua?"

Aunt Sun was passing by, carrying a basket of wild vegetables, when she stopped to watch the commotion.

"Here they come to claim kinship again? Wasn't the village chief's scolding enough last time?"

Yang Cuihua's face turned even redder.

"Alright, alright, let's go." Aunt Sun waved her hand. "If they don't want to acknowledge you, there's no use in you clinging on."

Yang Cuihua stood up, her hands trembling, holding the bowl. She glanced at Jiang Xing, then at Xiao Niu, and turned to leave.

She took the bowl of porridge back with her.

Watching her retreating figure, the little cow whispered, "Sister, will she come back?"

"Yes," Jiang Xing said, "but don't be afraid."

"I'm not afraid." Little Niu finished his biscuit and patted the crumbs off his hands. "I just think she's pretty pathetic."

Jiang Xing glanced at his younger brother but didn't say anything.

The calf is soft-hearted, and being soft-hearted isn't a bad thing, as long as it's not stupid.

The two teams have been traveling together for a month and are nearing the point where they will have to part ways.

Most families have run out of grain, or only a little, and they mostly rely on wild vegetables to stave off hunger. The wild vegetables that can be dug up along the road are becoming increasingly scarce; sometimes, one can walk all day and not find even a handful.

Around noon, a commotion suddenly broke out ahead.

"A village! There's a village ahead!"

"There are people living here! There's a house!"

"Food! There's food!"

The noise grew louder and more chaotic.

Those who had been without food for several days and were surviving on wild vegetables rushed forward like they were on steroids. Even those who couldn't walk anymore gritted their teeth and kept going, as if the village ahead wasn't their village, but their life.

Jiang Xing did not speed up. She stood beside the oxcart, tiptoed, and looked ahead.

In the distant mountain valley, there was indeed a cluster of houses, all thatched and mud-brick houses, scattered in a pleasing, staggered pattern.

But after reading it twice, she frowned.

There are no fields.

There wasn't a single field around the village—no dry land, no paddy fields, not even a vegetable garden. The hillsides were bare, and the houses looked like temporary structures.

She turned to look at the people around her; everyone's faces were filled with excitement, their eyes shining, but no one noticed.

Jiang Xing walked to Shen Dehou's side and said in a low voice, so low that only the two of them could hear, "Village chief, something's wrong with that village."

Shen Dehou glanced at her, then looked at the houses in the distance: "Something's not right?"

"There's no farmland, and the houses are too new, like they're temporary structures," Jiang Xing said. "There's not a single field around. How will this whole village make a living?"

Shen Dehou paused for a moment.

He squinted at the surroundings of the village, his face slowly darkening.

"You're right," he said softly. "I also feel it's not quite right. But..."

He glanced at the excited crowd around him, but didn't finish his sentence.

"I'll go talk to Captain Ma," Shen Dehou said.

He quickened his pace, walked to the front of the group, and found Ma Dadan.

"Captain Ma, something doesn't seem right about that village up ahead."

Ma Dadan, mounted on his horse and wrapped in an old cotton-padded coat, his facial scars turning purple from the cold, glanced at Shen Dehou and asked, "Something's wrong? What's wrong?"

"There's no farmland, not a single field around. How will this village feed itself?"

Ma Dadan glanced at the village in the distance, then at Shen Dehou, and chuckled, "You're overthinking it. They're probably farming on mountain land, up in the mountains, so you can't see them. Besides, we haven't seen the village for so many days. Everyone needs to buy grain; can you stop them?"

"Captain Ma..."

"Alright, alright." Ma Dadan waved his hand: "Where there are people, there is grain. Who cares about fields?"

Before Shen Dehou could say anything more, a voice came from the side.

Jiang Caimao walked over from the side, heard it, and laughed: "Shen Dehou, are you too timid? You see the village but don't dare to go in. Are you afraid there are ghosts inside? The longer you've been the village chief, the more timid you seem to become."

Shen Dehou glanced at him: "I didn't say I was afraid to go in, I said something felt off."

"Something's not right? Tell me, what's wrong?" Jiang Caimao's voice rose. "The village is perfectly fine, the houses are all neat and tidy, and you insist something's wrong. Are you just jealous that everyone can have a good meal?"

People nearby heard this and looked over.

"Village chief, you're being too cautious."

"Exactly, what's there to be afraid of in a village?"

"They're so hospitable, and you're not even appreciating it?"

Shen Dehou's face darkened. He stopped arguing with Jiang Caimao and turned to look at Jiang Xing.

Jiang Xing stood behind and shook his head slightly.

Shen Dehou understood that there was no use saying anything now; everyone was blinded by the word "food."

He slowed his pace, and after Jiang Caimao had gone far away, he went from house to house in a low voice to inform them: "Something's not right in that village, keep an eye on it. Don't leave your belongings behind, watch the children, and those who are willing to believe, come with me in a bit."

Some nodded, some frowned, and some disagreed.

That's all Shen Dehou could do. He had made the notifications; whether they believed it or not was up to them.