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

Yang Cuihua's smile froze on her face. When she turned around, she saw He Daliang lying on the ground, clutching his shoulder. Blood seeped from between his fingers. He was in so much pain that he was covered in sweat and was writhing on the ground like a chicken whose neck had been stepped on.

Yang Cuihua screamed, the pot lid in her hand clattering to the ground. She turned and ran towards He Daliang, her legs so weak she tripped and fell, but she got up and ran again. She squatted down in front of He Daliang, not knowing where to cover her face, tears streaming down her face, calling out, "Daliang, what's wrong? Daliang, look at me, Daliang."

He Daliang trembled with pain, and with his uninjured hand, he shoved her head away while cursing.

Jiang Xing walked over slowly, as if taking a stroll, passing through the narrow passage between the fire pits, bending down to pick up the lid of the clay pot that had fallen to the ground, and then turning around to walk in front of He Daliang.

When she squatted down, her eyes met those of Yang Cuihua, who was squatting on the ground holding onto He Daliang's arm.

Yang Cuihua finally saw Jiang Xing's eyes clearly; they were as cold and indifferent as if he were looking at a dead person. That feeling made Yang Cuihua feel as if she wasn't being watched by a person, but by a knife.

"Yang Cuihua." Jiang Xing spoke softly, yet with a deadly chill.

She had pulled out the short knife from her hand at some point, and the tip of the knife was less than an inch above He Daliang's Adam's apple. He Daliang was in so much pain that he was covered in sweat and his neck was stiff and he dared not move. His Adam's apple rolled up and down, and the tip of the knife also swayed up and down with it.

"If you dare to appear in front of me again, the next time this dagger will be stuck in He Daliang's throat." Jiang Xing pushed the dagger forward a tiny bit, just a tiny bit, and a thin line of blood appeared on He Daliang's Adam's apple.

His pupils shrank to pinpoints, his lips trembled, and he couldn't utter a single word.

Yang Cuihua's pupils suddenly contracted.

She watched as a drop of blood trickled down the thin line of blood on He Daliang's Adam's apple. She saw that Jiang Xing's hand holding the knife remained motionless, without the slightest tremor. At that moment, she was afraid.

She suddenly remembered that night, in that cannibalistic village, Jiang Xing stood covered in blood at the foot of the cliff.

For the first time, she didn't try to erase the image from her mind; instead, she confronted it head-on. Yes, she had been deceiving herself all along. Jiang Xing wasn't afraid; there was no need for her to. But if she took another step forward, the knife would really plunge in without hesitation, without trembling, without even glancing back.

He Daliang was her life; if he died, she wouldn't live either, so she couldn't let He Daliang die.

She knelt on the ground, trembling all over. She was afraid, a fear that seeped from the very marrow of her bones, a fear she had never experienced before.

She was afraid of Jiang Xing, and from that moment on, she was afraid of him to the core. It wasn't because Jiang Xing hated her, but because Jiang Xing didn't take her seriously at all.

In Jiang Xing's eyes, she didn't even have the right to be hated. She was just a stumbling block on the roadside, which he could kick away. If she blocked his way again, he could just crush her.

"You...you dare..." Yang Cuihua's voice was so soft it was like a mosquito's buzz; she couldn't even hear what she was saying.

Jiang Xing stood up, tucked the dagger back into her waistband, and turned to walk away without looking at Yang Cuihua again. Yang Cuihua was the kind of person who never learned her lesson; Jiang Xing didn't have time to deal with her. Since He Daliang was her Achilles' heel, a single fatal blow would suffice.

Behind him, He Daliang sat on the ground, clutching his shoulder, blood seeping from between his fingers. He gritted his teeth, not daring to make a sound. Yang Cuihua knelt beside him, trembling all over, not daring to look up, not daring to speak, and not daring to look in Jiang Xing's direction.

Jiang Xing walked back to the fire and put the lid back on the casserole. The rabbit meat was already stewed until tender, and the aroma of medicinal food mixed with the fragrance of meat filled the air.

She ladled out three bowls of soup, scooped the white bread off the side of the pot and placed it on the side of the bowls, and then served a small bowl of rabbit meat separately next to the calf's bowl.

Xiao Niu had just been awakened by He Daliang's screams and had been nestled next to Zhang Shi's quilt without saying a word. Now, he took the bowl that Jiang Xing handed him, looked down at the large piece of rabbit meat in the soup, and then looked up at his sister.

Without asking what had just happened, he picked up the piece of rabbit meat and put it in his grandmother's bowl.

Zhang leaned against the bedding, took the bowl, and slowly drank a sip of soup. She glanced at Jiang Xing, said nothing, but reached out and gently patted the back of Jiang Xing's hand twice, full of heartache.

Third Uncle took the bowl but didn't drink it. Looking at the sensible and resilient Jiang Xing, he only said softly, "Girl, you've worked hard."

"It's not bitter, drink it quickly, this soup will warm you up," Jiang Xing replied calmly.

Third Uncle looked at her for a while, then didn't ask any more questions. He picked up the bowl, took a sip of soup, and pulled his pipe out from behind his waist and put it in his mouth.

After finishing the soup, she poured the medicine she had left for her family back into the clay pot, added water, and started simmering. While her third uncle was feeding the cow with his back to her, she summoned the shop panel, used her points to redeem a more potent cold-dispelling medicine pack, opened it, poured it into the clay pot, and simmered it together with the wild ginger and saposhnikovia root from before.

The medicine smelled stronger than before, and the dregs that rose up when it boiled were finer. When the soup was ready, it was brought to Zhang's lips. Zhang drank two mouthfuls in a daze and then fell into a deep sleep.

After finishing his drink, Xiao Niu wiped his mouth, turned over, and wrapped himself tightly in the blanket. Third Uncle took the bowl and drank it all in one gulp, then placed the empty bowl by the fire.

Inside the cave, the other villagers were also drinking their medicine. Doctor Gu squatted at the cave entrance, ladled a bowl of medicinal soup for the last woman in line, then placed the spoon on the edge of the pot, leaned against the stone wall, and let out a long sigh.

The number of people with fevers has not increased. Those who had high fevers before have seen their fevers drop after drinking the medicinal soup with snake gall added. Some of them have already stopped having fevers. He raised his hand to wipe his wrinkled face and slowly drank his bowl of medicinal soup.

Outside the cave, the rain and snow continued to fall, the snow and raindrops mingling and pattering against the leaves. Inside the cave, it was warm. A pine branch in the fire crackled and broke off, sending sparks flying before falling back down.

The calf rolled over, put its hand on its grandmother's arm, and breathed steadily. The third uncle stretched out his leg and leaned against the stone wall, his swollen knee bulging in the firelight.