Chapter 243

Chapter 243

"That don't sit right with me."

Spotting his little girl, Old Man Zhao's face broke into a smile. He waved the two kids over, then turned to Village Chief Sun. His smile vanished, his jaw clenched, and he growled, "We're so close now. If ya ask me, best we catch our breath, then push on a stretch. The real priority is to put this crowd behind us."

"Why would we even think of going into town?" He shot a quick look around without being obvious. Because of the sudden drop in temperature, many refugees lacking clothes and medicine had fallen ill on the road, wheezing like they're at death's door. Even though they kept their distance, there was only one road leading to Suiyun Town, and everyone was heading in the same direction—there was no way to avoid them.

Now that this bunch has finally stopped, dithering about going into town to buy grain and see a doctor, we oughta use this chance to hightail it outta here before they do.

"We got some grain left. If we ration it, I reckon we can make it not just to Yanlin but all the way to Liangjun without trouble." He took the chubby daughter who reached out for him, settling her on his arm. Seeing Qing Xuan remove the shoe from her tense toes, the edge stained with some filth, he pinched her chubby cheek and signaled her not to keep bullying her big brother Qing Xuan. "Once we reach Liangjun, a big prefecture like that, why worry about not being able to buy grain?"

"And even if we can't, there's nothing to fear." He chuckled. "Our old home, Wanxia Village, is tucked in a mountain hollow, surrounded by hills. We're used to the mountain life. That mountain range separating Liangjun and Yanlin—others might fear it, but we don't. Once we're in the mountains, even in a heavy snow that seals the paths, if we truly run out of food and water, the men of our village can find ways to survive. We won't starve."

Village Chief Sun was still hesitant: "But winter hunting's tough..."

Wouldn't it be great to buy grain in town now? The city gate not checking travel permits was a rare opportunity. Even if many people were entering and there was a risk of disease, as long as they took precautions and bundled up tight, it should be fine.

Their luck had held well so far.

"Send a few men into the city. We can slowly move on ahead. A bag or two—it's still lifesaving grain, crucial at the critical moment." He pleaded earnestly, a deep vertical crease forming between his brows. The once dignified village chief and clan elder now looked just like any old man worn down by hardship—dust-covered, thin, and weary, as if a gust of wind could knock him over. "Liangjun... sigh, it hasn't been hit by disaster, but all the refugees are heading there. With more buyers, grain prices won't be cheap. Either way we spend money, it's better to exchange it for grain here. At least we won't go hungry on the road. If we really can't afford grain later, we can leave Liangjun quickly without lingering."

"When we cross the mountains, if we're lucky enough to hunt game, that's best. Even if we can't, as long as we can dig roots, chew leaves and stems, and boil husks, as long as we make it to Yanlin, everything will improve."

Hearing this, Old Man Zhao pondered for a while and found it quite reasonable.

He could take advice and wasn't stubborn. After careful thought, it wasn't a bad idea. At worst, he could send Dashan and Er Tian into town with Xiaobao. If they could buy grain, great; if not, they could discreetly pull some out from the divine land.

They'd been brewing medicine day and night, and the cold and fever remedies they'd bought earlier were running low. He'd have a chance to stock up again soon. Everyone would feel more confident. Because looking at the weather, it was only going to get colder!

And then there were Da He and the others. Forget everyone else; the children from those families were particularly close to his heart. They were getting thinner by the day, their pitiful dryness tugging at his heart. Eating from the communal pot made it hard to supplement them secretly. Even giving them two flatbreads required an excuse—saying the child's mother had saved them from her own rations. If he said that, no one dared take it, but if he didn't say it, he didn't know how else to give.

In the end, it all came down to not enough grain. If they had enough to feed everyone, why would they rack their brains to find excuses to sneak food to the kids?

As he was thinking, a sharp wail suddenly came from ahead, startling many people into turning around.

"Go away, go away! I won't go, I won't go! I don't know you, you're a human trafficker—!" A dirty boy writhed wildly on the ground. His thin, grimy sleeve was tightly grasped by a seemingly young man.

The young man's face was full of anxiety. He glared at an old woman standing nearby who wanted to reach out but didn't dare. With one hand gripping the boy who squirmed like a twisted rope, he pointed at her with the other and barked, "Who are you? Why would my cousin call you Granny?!"

"And you dare to stop me?" His words came fast. The hand that pointed suddenly swung down and slapped her outstretched wrist.

"I don't know you, I won't go with you—" The boy kept crying.

Seeing this, the young man wrapped both arms around the boy who was about to fall to the ground, heaving him up with a grunt. He pressed the dirty little face tightly against his chest, tears streaming down his own face, and said, "Ping'an, don't you recognize me? It's your cousin Zikang! What happened? Why are you alone here? Where are Aunt and Uncle? Why aren't they with you? Who is this old woman? Why do you call her Granny? Did she kidnap you? Lure you?!"

The boy was held so tightly he couldn't struggle free. The young man's face was full of grief and panic, his eyes brimming with anger. He glared at the old woman, who was red-faced and frantically waving her hands, trying to explain, but he gave her no chance to speak and snarled, "He's my cousin, not your grandson! You wicked hag, you child stealer without virtue! I don't want to waste time with you now. If you have any sense, get lost!"

"I'm not a trafficker..."

"Still trying to lie!" The young man shoved her hard. Caught off guard, the old woman fell on her butt, landing squarely on her tailbone. Her face went pale with pain, and cold sweat poured as she couldn't utter a word.

"Ping'an, come with me!" The young man pulled the boy closer, his palm gripping the boy's bony arms, and headed toward a group of refugees. "Don't be afraid. With your cousin here, you won't go hungry or cold again..."

"Wah, let me go—"

The people around watched the scene coldly, seeing the old woman try several times to get up and grab the boy, only to be kicked away by the young man.

"No, I'm not a kidnapper." The old woman cried as she chased after him, looking around desperately for help. "Help me, please help me..."

Some looked reluctant and wanted to speak, but hearing the boy's intermittent sobs through his cries—"You didn't run away and leave us?" "Dad said you're not my cousin anymore." "Let me go, let me go. I'm not your cousin anymore."—they truly didn't dare step in.

Family matters were the worst to meddle in.

That man seemed genuinely to be the boy's cousin. As for the persistent old woman, all she could do was beg for help, unable to explain the relationship clearly, only repeating that she wasn't a kidnapper, telling the young man to put the boy down and not take her grandson away...

Scenes like this played out everywhere since the exodus began.

Life was cheap. When hunger was at its worst, a father could even sell his own son, or exchange him for another's child to eat.

The boy's parents weren't around, only an old, frail woman with an unclear relationship. Now out of nowhere came a supposed real cousin. Who would dare step in and meddle?

Everyone had their wits. They saw clearly that the young man wasn't alone; he was with a refugee group.

The boy cried heartrendingly, struggling as if for his life, kicking off one of his patched cotton shoes. A sharp-eyed child lunged to grab it, hugging it to his chest like treasure, his narrow eyes fixed on the boy's other foot.

Zhao Xiaobao, sitting high up and seeing far, took in the whole scene and hugged her father's neck tightly with her little arms.

But as she watched, a hint of doubt crept into her eyes. She bit her finger and said uncertainly, "Dad, Xiaobao thinks she's seen him before."

"Seen who?" Old Man Zhao was taken aback. He instinctively looked at the young man, then at the old woman still chasing, and finally at the boy whose face was pressed into the young man's chest, only his frantically kicking legs visible. "Which one has Xiaobao seen? The old woman? The boy? Or the cousin?"

He couldn't recall.

Then he thought again: Zhao Xiaobao often went out with her brothers, so maybe she'd seen someone when he wasn't around.

"Dad has seen him too. Don't you remember?" Zhao Xiaobao pointed at the boy who kept kicking. "Xiaobao and Dad were driving the donkey cart out of our hometown. We passed through a town. There were so many people. That boy couldn't find his dad and mom. Dad called out for him to be careful, and his dad heard. His dad was huge, a rich landowner..."

She gestured while talking, and Old Man Zhao finally dredged up a faint memory from some corner of his mind.

Back then, the village's main group left first. He lagged behind with his daughter, got the big banyan tree at the village entrance—nearly dried up from drought—into the divine land, then set off for the Taoist temple to pick up Qing Xuan. On the way, they passed through Luko Town. It was during the early chaos. The townsfolk had heard that soldiers were coming to seal the city, and people were hastily bundling their families to flee. At that time, he seemed to have called out to stop a boy who was nearly knocked down by the crowd and carts.

He remembered that boy was raised well by his parents, chubby and round. This one in front of him was as thin as a dry stick. There was no resemblance at all.

"Xiaobao, are you sure?" he hesitated.

"Definitely!" Zhao Xiaobao was no longer scared. She patted her chest and said confidently, "Xiaobao's eyes are sharp. It's that person!"

Old Man Zhao drew in a cold breath. Earlier, he'd only watched the young man, thinking his actions didn't seem those of a good person, but the old woman was clearly flustered. He couldn't figure out the quarrel, so he stopped pondering and just watched the spectacle. Now, hearing that this boy was the child he'd once encountered, he found it hard to believe, and a different feeling stirred in his heart.

Maybe it was because they were both from Qingzhou Prefecture, their hometowns not far apart, making them half-countrymen?

Since the exodus began, he hadn't seen any familiar faces from home. Had all the able-bodied men been conscripted? Were there still people in the village? What about Tongjiang Town? He knew nothing.

If this was the same person, the child had been worn down awfully.

He stared intently at the frantically struggling boy, his brow furrowing deeper and deeper. He remembered that when the boy's father found his son, he'd mumbled something like "Not family, gotta watch out" or some such.

From the sound of it, when chaos first broke out, the boy had been with his cousin. Later, the cousin abandoned him in the confusion and ran off.

Now, the cousin who had vanished had suddenly reappeared, while the boy's parents were nowhere to be seen?

At that thought, his loose mouth acted faster than his brain. Before he knew it, he called out loudly, "Is that Ping'an from Luko Town?"

The young man's steps halted abruptly. He hugged the boy, who was nearly suffocating, and quickened his pace.

"This is your cousin?" A man with a scar from a burn on his face raised his thick eyebrows, looking at the boy in Zhou Zikang's arms.

"Yeah." Zhou Zikang curled his lips into a smile. "He's my aunt's own son, my real cousin."

"Hey, you there! I'm talking to you. Hold on!" Old Man Zhao took a few steps forward.

At the same time, the old woman stumbled and chased after him, reaching out to snatch the boy from his arms, crying, "He is my grandson! He ate my pancake and agreed to be my grandson. You can't take him away!"

"Get lost! If you keep pestering me, I'll kill you!" Zhou Zikang, utterly annoyed, raised his foot to kick.

"You blind old hag, can't you see what's going on? Keep yapping and I'll cut your tongue out!" Seeing her stubbornly clinging on, the scar-faced man beside him raised a palm as big as a fan. With a gust of wind and a loud slap, the old woman was knocked to the ground.

She opened her mouth and spat out a mouthful of bloody foam, along with two chipped rotten teeth. Her face instantly swelled up.

The boy, nearly unconscious, was jolted awake by the old woman's crying. His limp legs kicked again, and in a daze, he heard a strange voice calling him 'Ping'an.' He mustered his strength and stretched out a weak arm from under his cousin's grip and cried, tears streaming, "Dad, Dad, I'm here. Have you come back? ... Dad!"

"Zhu'er, Zhu'er, my grandson!" the old woman wailed loudly, covering her bleeding mouth. "Give him back to me! Give my grandson back to me!!"

A stir arose all around.

Old Man Zhao, carrying his daughter, took several big strides over, with Qing Xuan closely following by his side.

Village Chief Sun looked utterly baffled, unable to figure out what the old man and his group were up to. He could only hurriedly turn his head and call for someone to fetch Zhao Dashan and his brothers. "What are you standing around for? Go get them!"

He slapped his thigh, and grain or no grain, he quickly strode after them.