Chapter 2: A World of Hardship

Chapter 2: A World of Hardship

With the death of the elder, the refugees became even more numb, and for a moment, the open ground outside the city fell into an eerie silence.

Yang Guanshi was quite pleased with himself. He took out a small bronze mirror, glanced at his reflection, and then looked towards Liu Dabao.

"Sell or not?" Yang Guanshi didn't bother to hide his intentions anymore.

Liu Dabao, trembling with fear, looked at the dead elder on the ground, then at Yang Guanshi. When he saw impatience on the man's face, he quickly knelt down and pleaded, "Sell, sell, sell! As long as we can survive, we're willing to sell anything!"

Yang Guanshi smiled, twirling his finger, and then looked at the crowd of refugees. He stepped forward to inspect them, clearly looking for more than just a few good ones; he wanted to pick the best among them and find a few more.

He quickly skipped over the older ones, only looking for handsome young men. However, most of the refugees were so emaciated that he could barely make out their features.

After circling around, Yang Guanshi selected a few more and then approached Meng Yuan.

"Your bone structure is not bad, but you're so dirty I can't tell if you're handsome or not." Yang Guanshi tucked his hands into his sleeves and said, "Grab some snow and scrub your face, let me take a look."

"Not selling," Meng Yuan replied directly.

"Pfft! Don't act all high and mighty. When you want to sell yourself later, you won't even find a place to do it!" Yang Guanshi spat on the ground, gathered seven or eight young men, and then spoke a few words with the law enforcement officers before hastily leaving in his carriage.

The law enforcement officers didn't bother further and returned to the porridge shed to warm themselves by the fire, acting as if nothing had happened.

The world fell silent, occasionally interrupted by the low cries of children, accentuating the desolate and bleak atmosphere.

Meng Yuan grabbed some snow and scrubbed his face, then approached the dead elder. He knelt on one knee and checked for breath, then felt the man's neck, confirming that he was indeed dead.

Just as he was thinking about finding a law enforcement officer to handle the body, he heard someone clear their throat with a 'pfft' sound.

Meng Yuan looked up and saw a woman leaning against the wall at the mouth of the alley, spitting watermelon seeds.

The woman was of average appearance, with dark circles around her eyes. She glanced at the carriage entering the city gate and said, "In times of disaster, it's already hard enough with prostitutes stealing each other's business, but now men are taking our business too! What kind of world is this? Pfft!"

Clearly, this woman was not a refugee but likely a streetwalker in the alley. However, her experience seemed limited, as those who sought pleasure with 'happy rabbit boys' probably wouldn't look for it in dark alleys. So, her claim about stealing business might not be entirely accurate.

"Sister," Meng Yuan sat on the snowy ground, and when he saw the woman looking at him, he asked, "May I ask if you have any old and torn straw mattresses that you don't use?"

Hearing this, the woman smiled, cracking watermelon seeds as she spoke, "In this icebound winter, what use is a straw mattress? I have hot water in my room to warm your body." As she spoke, she blinked her eyes, but her average appearance and lack of adornment made her seem more comical than alluring.

"A person should be buried in the ground. Even without a coffin, at least there should be a straw mattress to wrap and cover the body," Meng Yuan pleaded, bowing his head.

The woman listened to his words and saw the boy's ragged and swollen clothes, his hands covered in frostbite, and his desperate expression. She asked, "Who is he to you?"

"I don't know him. We're all refugees, living a hard life. He died for speaking up for justice, so we can't just leave him exposed," Meng Yuan replied.

The woman turned around and walked back into the alley, still spitting out watermelon seeds. "You want something from me? Haven't you heard that prostitutes have no heart?"

Meng Yuan didn't lose heart. He took a deep breath and went to find the law enforcement officers warming themselves by the fire under the porridge shed.

"Sirs," Meng Yuan bowed respectfully and asked, "Yang Guanshi just killed a man. May I ask what will be done about it?"

"What?" One of the officers, with a large beard, sized Meng Yuan up and down, his hand resting on the knife at his waist, "Are you seeking justice?"

"I dare not," Meng Yuan said, his hands, covered in frostbite, raised in a gesture of respect. "But with the bitter cold and chaos here, the refugees might gather in larger numbers. If the dead are not taken care of, who knows what kind of epidemic might break out."

At that moment, the death of a few refugees was no big deal, but since several officials were here on official business, it would be best to avoid disturbing them. Therefore, he came to ask the officials if there was a desolate graveyard or charitable burial ground nearby where he could take the body for proper burial."

One of the law enforcement officers, seeing that this was a good opportunity to sell his services, and speaking with a sense of reason, loosened his grip on his knife. "There's a desolate graveyard half a mile southwest of here!"

Meng Yuan made a small request, "I'm really weak, please give me another bowl of porridge."

The officer glanced at Meng Yuan and patted his money pouch, impatiently saying, "You have enough to find someone else to help. Off with you!" He tossed out a dozen copper coins and looked at the other officer, "What did the higher-ups say? What should we do about the refugees? I came to provide disaster relief, and not only do I not get my allowance, but I have to spend my own money!"

The copper coins scattered on the ground, and Meng Yuan bent down to pick them up one by one before bowing again and returning to the body.

"What a world we live in," Jiang Laobo also came over, seeming to want to say something, but only saying, "I'll lend a hand."

"That's good," said Meng Yuan, grabbing a handful of) snow to wipe the blood from the deceased's face, revealing an aged and weathered countenance.

Just then, the woman who had returned earlier came back, carrying a torn straw mattress under her arm and holding a flatbread in her hand. She threw both items in front of Meng Yuan.

Meng Yuan quickly caught the mattress and covered the body with it, then pocketed the flatbread, expressing his gratitude, "Big sister, I am forever in your debt. I will repay you one day."

"That's enough, enough with the gratitude and repayment! You men are all talk and no action!" The woman waved her hand, cracking some sunflower seeds as she laughed, "If you really have a conscience, once you're settled, come to Prosperity Alley every month to visit me, that's better than anything! Remember, my name is Hua Jie. Don't visit the wrong person!"

After thanking her repeatedly, Meng Yuan broke the flatbread in half and shared it with Jiang Laobo, who then gave half of his portion to his granddaughter.

The three of them wolfed down the food and then grabbed some snow to clear their throats.

Meng Yuan didn't dare linger, fearing that the body would stiffen and become difficult to move. He quickly wrapped the body in the mattress and, with Jiang Laobo's help, carried it towards the desolate graveyard.

Having suffered from starvation and freezing temperatures for so long, the two of them lacked the strength to cover much distance, and it took them a full hour to travel half a mile.

The harsh winter snow had frozen the ground solid, and they had no tools to dig. Meng Yuan simply cleared a patch of snow and laid the body down, covering it with broken stones as a makeshift grave.

In these difficult times, this was all they could do.

When they returned to the city gate, they noticed that the number of refugees had increased.

"Let's go get something to eat first," suggested Meng Yuan, seeing that Jiang Laobo's granddaughter was struggling to walk.

"I have no money," Jiang Laobo said.

Meng Yuan reached into his pocket and took out a handful of copper coins, smiling as he said, "This is our reward from the officials for moving the body."

Without waiting for Jiang Laobo to respond, Meng Yuan headed into the narrow alleys beneath the city walls.

Food prices had skyrocketed due to the famine, and after inquiring at several stalls, he finally settled on a vendor selling hot tofu. Six copper coins for a large bowl, and Meng Yuan bought two large bowls and a small one.

He paid first, and the vendor lifted a large bowl, opened the pot, scooped out two large pieces of tofu, scraped some salt from a salt brick, added a large spoonful of chicory sauce, drizzled on two drops of sesame oil, and finally topped it off with a spoonful of hot broth.

The tofu was steaming hot, and the chicory sauce was fragrant and spicy. When mixed together, it was the ultimate delicacy on a cold winter day.

Meng Yuan slurped it down, leaving not a drop in the bowl, and the warmth immediately dispelled the cold. Steam rose from his head, and he felt warm inside and out, finally coming back to life.

After this satisfying meal, he still didn't know where his next one would come from. It was time to find a way to survive.

(End of Chapter)

Chapter end