Night fell, and a vast darkness descended. In Changshan County Town, the lights of countless homes were like candles in the wind, flickering and struggling against the gloom.

In Willow Alley, this time of day—dinnertime—would usually be filled with the curling smoke of cooking fires. These days, however, the plumes of smoke were far sparser.

—Exploited by both the Government Office and the gangs, many families could no longer even guarantee their single meal of the day.

The Fang Family, however, was faring better.

As always, smoke curled and rose from their chimney, carrying the faint, clean fragrance of Sorghum Flour flatbreads. It drifted on the cool evening breeze, the simple sign of a cooking fire transforming into the lively essence of the Mortal World.

...

INHALE! EXHALE! INHALE! EXHALE!

Er Dan was pressed against his window, staring wistfully toward the Fang Family’s home. He took deep breaths, inhaling the fragrant scent of grain carried on the wind, and subconsciously swallowed his saliva. GULP, GULP.

SMACK!

A slap landed on his forehead.

"Look at your pathetic little face! I managed to borrow two jin of wheat bran. We’re having bran gruel tonight, so you don’t have to be jealous of them..." Sister-in-law Cai Gen said, her hands on her hips.

"Really?" Er Dan’s eyes widened, and his throat bobbed.

"Heh, you little rascal. Would I lie to you?"

Sister-in-law Cai Gen snorted. With a sway of her hips, she turned and left, still muttering, "If you ask me, out of everyone here in Willow Alley, the Fang Family’s stove is lit more than anyone’s."

"By my count, the Fangs have already lent out nearly ten jin of wheat bran. They must have even more stored away, or how could they afford to lend any out in the first place!"

"It’s all thanks to the solid foundation Old Fang left them... Then again, who’s to say? Maybe the Fang Family has some other business on the side, in secret..."

At the doorway, Uncle Fu Quan sat on the threshold, weaving a basket from bamboo strips, not saying a word.

Sister-in-law Cai Gen rambled on for a good while with no one responding. She turned her head and snapped, "Hey, Husband, are you even listening? Say something! You’re being as quiet as a stone!"

"What is there to say?"

Uncle Fu Quan finally spoke, his voice gruff. "We should just focus on our own lives. What’s the use in staring at another family’s business? With all this time you’re spending gossiping, you could have woven another basket or stitched another shoe sole to sell for grain..."

...

"The day before yesterday, I popped over to the Fang Family’s place. I’ve got sharp eyes, you know. I spotted Sorghum Flour in their grain crock... Goodness me, peeking through a crack, I’d guess there was a good ten or twenty jin! If you traded that for wheat bran, you’d get at least forty or fifty jin..."

As Auntie Cai Hua spoke, she held a burlap sack and carefully tipped a minuscule amount of wheat bran into a large pot. "It’s a shame our families aren’t closer. We’re just nodding acquaintances, really. I’d be too embarrassed to ask them for grain..."

"Wow, Sorghum Flour!"

When Xiaohua heard Auntie Cai Hua mention Sorghum Flour, her big eyes sparkled. As if recalling a fond memory, she gave a happy little hop, just like a tiny kangaroo.

Xiaoqiu also swallowed hard. "I remember... Sorghum Flour flatbreads are so sweet and fragrant. We haven’t had them in ages!"

The two children, one five and the other seven, were just little tykes. In times like these, they were both sallow-faced and emaciated, so thin their bones showed.

"Sigh..."

Uncle Dashan sat on the threshold, gazing at the darkness that was devouring the world outside like a great beast. He let out a heavy sigh, the light in his murky eyes flickering uncertainly.

...

"Dad! Mom!"

Ah Huai ran in from outside. "Fang Ling’s family is already cooking! When are we going to eat?"

Uncle Zao Hua sat in the doorway, one half of his face bathed in moonlight, the other cloaked in shadow. He opened his mouth, but said nothing. A long silence was his only reply.

"You naughty boy!"

Xiang Lin’s wife grabbed a rolling pin and gave Ah Huai a light smack on the bottom. "Eat? Eat what? Stop running around outside. Saving your energy is more important than anything!"

"Oh, I get it." Ah Huai sulked off to get a drink of water.

What he didn’t see was his mother turning away, sniffling as she wiped the corner of her eye.

...

The Fang Family.

Tonight’s dinner was, in fact, even more lavish than the neighbors imagined: Sorghum Flour porridge, Sorghum Flour steamed buns, wild greens stir-fried in sesame oil, and a boiled egg for everyone.

"Mom, eat!"

Fang Rui saw Mrs. Xue of the Fang Family set her egg aside, unwilling to eat it herself. So, he simply peeled it for her and placed it in her bowl.

—If Fang Rui hadn’t taken the initiative to grab three eggs and put them in the pot, there wouldn’t have been three eggs at all. Left to her own devices, Mrs. Xue of the Fang Family would have boiled one for Fang Rui, and maybe, at most, a second one for Fang Ling.

As for herself?

She would never have dreamed of eating one.

’I don’t like them.’ That was what Mrs. Xue of the Fang Family always said.

The funniest part was, after Mrs. Xue of the Fang Family had said it so many times, that silly girl Fang Ling had actually started to believe her.

’Maybe she’ll understand when she’s a little older,’ Fang Rui thought.

Fang Rui looked at his little sprout of a sister, only five years old, and felt a little exasperated.

On the one hand, she was genuinely smart. She was always tight-lipped about anything she was told to keep secret. She did whatever chores she could handle, and did them well, never complaining. A picky eater? Never. She ate whatever the family cooked...

—’Alright, that last point doesn’t really count as a virtue in these times. So far, I have yet to find a single child who’s a picky eater.’

By the standards of this era, Fang Ling was a very well-behaved child. Back in Fang Rui’s previous life, she would have been the very definition of a "model child"—a super sweet and considerate daughter.

But on the other hand, the girl could be genuinely dense at times. She often seemed dazed and a little slow, couldn’t find things, and was always a beat behind...

—When Mrs. Xue of the Fang Family said she didn’t like eggs, she’d said it so many times and even pretended to gag that she had actually managed to fool Fang Ling.

Still, Fang Rui understood.

In this day and age, literate people were few and far between, especially girls. In an environment like this, it was asking far too much to expect a five-year-old child to be exceptionally clever or worldly-wise.