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

Just after noon, Shao Yuanyin finally managed to get the refugee registration and record-keeping process sorted out.

He stood up from behind the long table, stretched his stiff neck, handed a stack of densely written pages to the clerk next to him, and then waved to Zhao Xingjian.

The two stood in the shadows of the city gate and exchanged a few words in hushed tones. Zhao Xingjian nodded and turned to walk toward the center of the threshing ground.

"Quiet down! Quiet down!" Zhao Xingjian's voice wasn't loud, but it was extremely penetrating, and the chaotic grain drying ground gradually quieted down.

He stood on an overturned, broken pot, his hand on the hilt of the sword at his waist, his gaze sweeping over the dark mass of people below.

"Two things: everyone should settle down where they are tonight. Chuancheng County will send another batch of grain and warm clothing. Tomorrow morning, the village chiefs should go to the city gate to collect new edicts, organize the village population, and collect the grain by presenting the household registration. If the edicts are still valid, they can be exchanged for new ones; if the edicts are lost, the village chiefs should report to Registrar Shao for replacements."

A murmur arose from the crowd. Someone asked, "Still heading southwest? We've already reached Nanping, can't we just settle down here?"

Zhao Xingjian glanced at the man, his tone leaving no room for negotiation: "Nanping County has just suffered a major disaster. Seventy percent of the granaries in the city were burned down, and the county government office is gone. How can we settle you? If you stay here, you will only starve to death. Head southwest to the prefectural city, and the imperial court will provide you with shelter."

The murmurs gradually subsided, and everyone knew he was telling the truth.

Zhao Xingjian jumped down from the broken pot and strode over to Ma Dadan. Ma Dadan was leaning against the broken cart, his upper body wrapped in strips of cloth, listening to Shen Dehou speak with his head tilted to the side. When he saw Zhao Xingjian coming over, he tried to stand up by supporting himself on the cart shaft, but Zhao Xingjian pressed his shoulder down.

"Captain Ma." Zhao Xingjian squatted down, his gaze sweeping over the wounds on Ma's body. "How many of your men are still alive?"

Ma Dadan paused for a moment, then said in a hoarse voice, "Both of them... they were both gone last night."

Zhao Xingjian nodded, without offering any empty words of comfort. He took out a bronze token from his pocket and placed it next to Ma Dadan: "This is my private token. If there are any problems during the handover when we arrive in the Southwest Prefecture, take this to Magistrate Liu in the prefectural government office. He will speak on your behalf."

Ma Dadan looked down at the token, his Adam's apple bobbing twice. He reached out and clenched it in his palm. The token was still warm from Zhao Xingjian's body heat. He didn't say thank you, but just nodded vigorously.

Jiang Xing was looking down, drawing something on the ground with a piece of broken tile he had picked up.

She was doing the accounting.

According to the previous geomantic map, it would take about seven days to walk from Nanping to the Southwest Prefecture City.

The troop was full of wounded soldiers, and the actual travel time might be extended to more than eleven or twelve days. The only food her family had left was a bag of brown rice and a package of smoked pork that she had taken last night. The system shop had it, but she couldn't find a way to get through it, and she didn't know how much food she would get tomorrow. Right now, the most important thing was to get through tonight. The winter clothes distributed by Chuancheng County were probably made of old cotton and certainly wouldn't keep her warm, so she needed to chop firewood now and get through tonight first.

She looked away, stood up, dusted off her hands, and squatted down next to Shen Dehou.

Shen Dehou was holding the old cloth used for counting, scribbling on it with his finger dipped in saliva. The names on the cloth were crooked and some were blurred by sweat stains. He squinted and looked closely for a long time before he could recognize what he had written.

"Village chief, we'll be spending the night here. It'll get very cold in the middle of the night. I'm going to chop some firewood. Could you ask if anyone in the village wants to come along?" Jiang Xing's voice was very low, only the two of them could hear it.

Shen Dehou put down the old cloth and looked at her.

"Okay, I'll go now."

After listening, Shen Dehou folded the old cloth and stuffed it into his pocket.

Jiang Xing nodded and said nothing more.

Dusk crept in inch by inch from the other side of the city wall, and the light on the threshing ground dimmed.

The officers and soldiers lit several bonfires in the middle of the field. The firewood crackled and popped, and the flickering flames cast shimmering light on the faces of the people sitting around.

Zhang and Granny Chen were still talking. The two old women had been chatting all afternoon, from old stories of their youth to the fates of their children. They would sigh as they spoke, and occasionally chuckle softly.

The little calf was fast asleep, leaning against Zhang's knees, his face half-buried in his grandmother's clothes, breathing heavily. His third uncle gently moved him from the side to his own lap so that he could sleep more peacefully.

The officials brought in another pot and began distributing porridge.

The queue was re-established, with more people talking in hushed tones than at midday. Some people carried bowls toward their families, blowing on the hot rims of the bowls as they walked.