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

Jiang Xing came down the hillside and walked back to Guandukou.

The sun was already setting in the west, and the shadow of the stone bridge stretched long, with Zhongnan Road on the other side of the bridge seemingly endless.

Just as she was about to walk towards her own oxcart, Widow Sun rushed over, carrying Niu Niu in her arms.

With a thud, Widow Sun knelt on the ground, her face covered in tears, her lips trembling as she couldn't utter a complete sentence.

"Da Ya... Niu Niu... please save Niu Niu... please save her..." Niu Niu's face was burning red, her lips were chapped, her eyes were half closed, her breathing was heavy, and her small chest was rising and falling.

Widow Sun knelt in the snow, her head bowed, her forehead touching the ground.

"I'll do anything for you... please save her... I beg you..."

Jiang Xing looked down at Widow Sun. This woman was so thin that she was just skin and bones. Her men's clothes hung loosely on her body. She was kneeling in the snow, her forehead pressed against the ground, holding Niu Niu in her arms, not daring to let go.

The older boy stood to the side, clutching his mother's clothes, also crying, but without making a sound.

Jiang Xing recalled the firewood. Every time Widow Sun chopped firewood, she would leave a few pieces next to Jiang Xing's oxcart. Not many, just four or five pieces, not enough for one meal, but that was all she could squeeze out from between her teeth. If she found wild vegetables, she would also put a handful on the edge of the cart, weighing them down with stones to prevent them from being blown away by the wind. She never said a word, just left them and drove off.

Jiang Xing turned around and walked to the oxcart, taking out a packet of medicine from his basket.

She had kept the medicine packet she bought in the prefectural city to keep warm. She handed the packet to Widow Sun.

"Boil it for her to drink, boil a bowl of water down to half a bowl."

Widow Sun took the medicine packet, hugged Niu Niu tightly, stood up, her legs still trembling, took two steps, then turned back and opened her mouth.

Jiang Xing said, "Go and prepare the medicine."

Standing beside the oxcart, Zhang took the pair of socks out of her sleeve and stuffed them into Jiang Xing's hand.

Jiang Xing looked down at the socks. They were thick, with the soles sewn together repeatedly, the stitches dense and even.

"Put them on," Zhang said. "The shoes aren't warm enough."

Jiang Xing squatted down, put his socks on, and then put on his shoes.

Zhang didn't look at her again, turned and got into the oxcart. Third Uncle was already sitting on the edge of the cart. The calf, sitting on the cart, waved to Jiang Xing: "Sister, hurry up! We're leaving!"

Jiang Xing pulled down his trouser legs to cover his socks and got into the car.

Uncle San cracked his whip, and the oxcart headed southwest along the official road. The stone bridge receded further and further behind, and Zhongnan Road on the other side of the bridge gradually disappeared into the twilight.

After leaving Guandu Ferry, the weather became more and more unbearable each day.

The cold in the southwest is not the dry cold of the north, but a damp cold that chills you to the bone.

The wind wasn't strong, but the chill felt like countless needles, seeping into my collar, cuffs, and shoes through the holes, sticking to my skin, and I couldn't pull them out.

The oxcart couldn't move, not because the oxen were weak, but because the road was too slippery. Layers of ice formed, and during the day when the sun came out, a thin layer of water would melt on the surface, only to freeze over again by evening, becoming even harder and slipperier.

The cow's hooves would veer outwards when stepped on, and several times I almost knelt down. Every morning and evening, my third uncle would twist dry grass into ropes and wrap them around the cow's hooves, one circle overlapping the other, and then tie them with hemp rope after they were tightly wrapped.

It works, but not for long. The rope breaks after half a day and needs to be re-wound.

Jiang Xing helped with it. The two of them squatted next to the cow, their fingers frozen stiff. The straw rope slipped in their hands, loosening as they wound it, and they couldn't rush it.

The troops' food supplies were almost gone, not just running out, but completely gone.

Those who fled the village lost most of their food, and ate the rest.

Wild vegetables are nowhere to be found; the ground is covered in ice, and the roots of the wild vegetables are frozen in the soil and cannot be pried out.

Some people started eating tree bark. They peeled off pine bark, tore it into strips, boiled it in water, and drank the resulting tea. It was astringent and hard to swallow, but it provided temporary relief. Others ate grass roots, which they dug out of the snow. Their fingers were frozen and bleeding. The grass roots were thin and hard, impossible to chew. They would suck out a little taste in their mouths and then spit it out.

Most people no longer had the strength to speak. They walked with their heads down, staring at the heels of the person in front of them, inching forward step by step. When they rested, they squatted down, curled up in a ball, and remained silent. Their eyes were empty; everything looked the same to them.

But some people's eyes are fixed on other people's grain sacks, other people's oilcloths, and the bread in other people's children's hands. It's dim and unclear, like the last bit of light before a fire goes out—not warm, but scalding, the kind that can burn a hole in you.

Ma Dadan noticed it too. He rode his horse in the middle of the group, glancing back every now and then, his face growing increasingly grim.

Shen Dehou walked slowly through the crowd, his eyes never idle. He observed the people's gazes, where their hands were placed, and whether they veered towards other people's carts as they walked.

After observing for two days, he walked over to Ma Dadan and whispered a few words. Ma Dadan nodded, then shook his head.

When they set up camp at night, Ma Dadan and Shen Dehou came over together and squatted down next to Jiang Xing's campfire.

The three people were gathered around a fire. The third uncle stepped aside, and Zhang Shi pulled down the curtain. Only a few faces were illuminated by the firelight in the shed.

"I saw it all," Ma Dadan said first, not as a question, but as a statement.

Jiang Xing didn't reply.

Shen Dehou sighed: "If this continues, we won't even have to wait until we run out of food. In just the next few days, those people will have eyes like wolves."

"Everyone who saw them is gone," Uncle San said from the side, his pipe dangling from his mouth, unlit.

The four men were silent for a moment. A pine branch in the fire snapped with a crackling sound, sparks flew out, landed on the snow, and hissed out.

Ma Dadan looked at Jiang Xing: "Do you have any ideas?"

Jiang Xing didn't answer immediately. She stirred the firewood to make it burn brighter, then looked up at Ma Dadan.

"The Qian family."

Ma Dadan frowned slightly.

"They don't lack food," Jiang Xing said. "The donkey carts are always full. They cook far away from the group every day, stewing meat and chicken. The aroma wafts over, who can't smell it? Whose grain sacks do you think those people are eyeing? The Qian family's."

Ma Dadan remained silent; he knew Jiang Xing was right.

"Village Chief Shen mentioned before that the Qian family should allocate some grain for emergency relief," Jiang Xing said, looking at Shen Dehou. "Who made that suggestion?"

Shen Dehou gave a wry smile: "How could I be qualified? I can't even get a word in with Master Qian. That's something Captain Ma has to say."

Ma Dadan kept his mouth tightly shut. He was just a yamen runner, not an official.