met free Chapter 530 Disaster in Chu (Part 2)
Chapter 530 Disaster in Chu (Part 2)
In a dilapidated thatched hut on the outskirts of town, old farmer Wang Agong huddled in a corner, his body tightly wrapped in a patched, stiff old cotton quilt, which clearly offered little protection against the biting cold. Wang Agong raised his cloudy eyes, staring at a corner of the roof collapsed under the weight of snow; the tattered thatch trembled in the cold wind, as if it might be blown away at any moment. Snowflakes fell incessantly through the holes, landing on the muddy ground in front of him, quickly piling up into a small clump.
Grandpa Wang's tears flowed like a burst dam, rolling down his wrinkled face. The tears mingled with the grime on his face, freezing into tiny ice crystals on his chin. His heart was filled with sorrow and despair. He remembered this time last year, when, although his family was very poor, they could at least barely make ends meet.
Back then, the roof hadn't collapsed yet. Inside, a small stove burned, carrying dried straw. The warm flames slowly spread, filling the entire house with a cozy atmosphere. The whole family sat around the stove; the old woman busily baked multigrain pancakes, while the grandchildren nestled on Grandpa Wang's lap, listening intently as he recounted his amusing stories of farming in his youth. The aroma of the pancakes mingled with the smoke from the fire, filling the entire house with a feeling of unparalleled warmth and happiness.
But now, the old woman fell seriously ill last year, and without money for treatment, she tragically passed away. Her son, trying to pay for her medical care, went hunting in the mountains, fell off a cliff, and died instantly. Her daughter-in-law, unable to bear the shock, also died not long after. Only her young grandson and granddaughter remain.
A gust of cold wind blew by, and Grandpa Wang wrapped his tattered quilt tighter around himself. Looking at the meager winter food supplies in the corner, Grandpa Wang was filled with despair. Half a sack of millet and a small basket of wild vegetables—that was all the food Grandpa Wang had stored.
These meager rations were meant to sustain them through the long, harsh winter until the summer harvest.
Grandpa Wang silently calculated that there were still five months until the summer harvest. How could he possibly support his family with just half a bag of millet and a small basket of wild vegetables?
Moreover, the howling wind outside continued to rage, and the drafty thatched hut was utterly unable to withstand the biting cold. Grandpa Wang felt utterly lost, seeing no hope whatsoever.
However, when he caught a glimpse of his grandson and granddaughter huddled together in the blankets, shivering from the cold, a pang of pain shot through his heart. He couldn't bear to let the children continue to suffer, so he gritted his teeth and made up his mind.
He searched every corner of the house and finally found the few pieces of silver he had. Although these pieces of silver were insignificant, they were Wang Agong's last lifeline at that moment.
Grandpa Wang clutched the few pieces of silver tightly, resolutely left home, and braved the cold wind, making his way towards the city with great difficulty.
In Yingdu City, just as dawn was breaking, the grain market was already packed with people. Men, women, and children surrounded the few remaining grain shops, three or four layers deep, making it impossible to move.
Clutching his few remaining copper coins, someone pushed his way forward, his voice hoarse from shouting, "Shopkeeper, give me half a peck of rice! I'll pay any price!"
Someone got into a fight with the person next to them for cutting in line, yelling, "Why are you grabbing me! My child is waiting to eat!"
In the crowd, a thin woman clutched an empty rice sack, worn smooth from years of use. She knelt on the steps of the grain shop, her hands gripping the shopkeeper's clothes tightly, crying out, "Shopkeeper, please, give me some rice! It was only twenty coins a bushel the other day, but today it's fifty! I have a sick husband at home, and two infants crying for food. I simply can't afford this money. You're trying to force us to our deaths!" Her voice was hoarse and almost inaudible, tears and snot mingled together, her hair disheveled and plastered to her face. She looked utterly haggard, as if she might collapse at any moment.
The grain shop owner stood behind the counter, his gaze slowly sweeping over the scene before him, a sense of helplessness and bitterness welling up inside him. He saw women crowding around the counter, their faces filled with anxiety, children crying incessantly beside them, and men standing silently in the corner, each face etched with despair.
The shopkeeper sighed deeply, then reached out and gently helped the woman who had fallen to the ground to her feet. His voice revealed a deep weariness, as if he were being suffocated by the suffering of the world, and at the same time, there was a trace of helplessness: "Sister, it's not that I'm heartless, it's just that there's no grain to sell."
His gaze shifted to the backyard of the grain shop, and he said slowly, "Look at the granary in the back. It used to be packed full, almost overflowing with grain. But now?" As he spoke, he pointed to the tightly closed gate, "Open the gate, and it's completely empty inside. You can't even see the bottom of a grain bin."
Hearing the grain shopkeeper's words, a low murmur and sigh rippled through the crowd. People exchanged bewildered glances, their faces deepening with despair. Old Man Wang, squeezed into the crowd, his aged face etched with wrinkles, now appeared even more haggard with disappointment. As the grain shopkeeper spoke, the throng gradually dispersed, people silently departing, their steps heavy and slow.
This was the third grain shop they had visited, but none of them had any grain for sale. Even the grains that were usually expensive had vanished without a trace. On the street, some people couldn't help but cry, their sobs echoing in the silent air, heartbreaking to hear; others wandered aimlessly like zombies, their eyes vacant, as if they had lost their souls.
Who would have thought that just six months ago, this grain shop was the largest grain shop in Yingdu, with its granaries in the backyard overflowing. Grain merchants from all over would come to supply the shop, and people flocked to buy grain every day. The business was booming.
But now, the official granaries have stopped supplying grain, and the grain shops have long since sold out. The shopkeepers have to ask around for a little bit of food for their own families in order to barely make ends meet. The former glory has long since vanished in this cold winter.
Just as this despair, like layers of snow in winter, was covering the hearts of the people of Chu, an unbelievable piece of news spread like wildfire throughout the streets and alleys of Chu—the yield per mu in Qin could reach four shi!
At first, everyone thought it was just nonsense, a lie made up by someone who was starving. In the Chu region, even in a year of good weather and abundant harvests, a yield of two shi of grain per mu was already considered a great harvest. Four shi? That was simply a fantasy, even more outrageous than saying "grain fell from the sky."
Upon hearing the news, someone spat out, "Don't talk nonsense! If they could collect four shi (a unit of dry measure), would Qin still be eyeing our land? It's just a load of rubbish!"
But as more and more people returned from the Qin-Chu border, bringing more details, the Chu people's suspicions gradually loosened, and their hearts, frozen by despair, began to waver quietly.