Chapter 35 Drought Years (Part 6)

On the ground floor, an 8–9-year-old beggar child—dressed in similarly tattered clothes as Chen Huihong but much cleaner—was nimbly dodging a shop assistant’s attempts to chase and hit him.

When the woman and Qin Yanxing came downstairs, the assistant who had been chasing the child immediately stopped and rushed to complain and shift blame: “Boss, this little beggar is sneaky and dishonest. I’ve seen him wandering around our pastry shop all morning. He just slipped inside earlier—I caught him red-handed trying to steal something!”

Qin Yanxing’s face darkened as he shouted, “Shut up!”

He then immediately forced a smile and turned to the woman. “Sister, look…”

The woman ignored him and walked straight downstairs. She bent down and pulled the child out from under a table, speaking gently, “You were probably just hungry and came in after smelling the food, hoping to ask for something to eat.”

Then she lowered her head and said, “But sneaking into someone else’s shop is wrong. Shops open their doors to do business and welcome customers—entering like this affects their business.”

The child remained silent.

“In my opinion, he’s just too young and doesn’t understand. Just send him out. There are many famine refugees in the city recently—he probably fled here with his parents. He’s already very pitiful.”

After speaking, the woman patted the child and sent him out.

The child reluctantly ran out. Once outside, he glanced at Chen Huihong, who was still sitting at the entrance playing with her wooden horse, and gave her a warning glare.

Chen Huihong returned the look without reacting and continued playing with her wooden horse.

Seeing not only a beggar slip into the shop but another sitting outside, Qin Yanxing became furious and barked, “And the one outside—get her out too!”

The shop assistant, clearly someone who enjoyed gossip, had already heard the rumors about Chen Huihong circulating in the streets that day. He leaned in and whispered a few words. Qin Yanxing frowned; apparently, he didn’t dare offend the so-called runaway noble madwoman. He simply pointed at the dark flour buns in the counter.

“Take two and send her away.”

The assistant quickly complied, picking two of the smallest dark buns and handing them to Chen Huihong at the door. “Please, could you go sit somewhere else?”

Chen Huihong glanced at them, saw they were dark, and didn’t accept them. She still stood up on her own, dusted herself off, and prepared to move elsewhere to continue enjoying the aroma.

The woman walked out carrying a food box. Chen Huihong wasn’t paying attention and almost bumped into her.

The little beggar who had already run to the roadside shot Chen Huihong another fierce glare.

Chen Huihong, aware she was at fault, quickly said, “Sorry, I’ll compensate you.”

She then snatched the dark buns from the assistant and handed them to the woman.

The assistant: ?

The woman smiled, accepted the dark buns, and wrapped them in a handkerchief. She softly said, “The buns my younger brother makes aren’t very good. I’ll exchange them with the ones my husband and I made.”

She then crouched down, opened the food box, took out two fist-sized white steamed buns made from refined flour, slightly gray in color, and handed them to Chen Huihong.

Chen Huihong accepted the buns somewhat dazedly, showing her first hesitant expression—her face practically saying: Did I just successfully beg for food?

Qin Huai mentally gave her natural “begging talent” full marks. In one sentence: dark buns turned into white buns.

The roadside beggar nearly ground his teeth in frustration.

The woman also noticed him, waved him over, and he quickly ran back.

She handed him the wrapped dark bun and took out another white bun from the food box before closing it.

“Next time, remember to beg at the door. Don’t go inside—you’ll get beaten. Understood?”

The child nodded and whispered, “Thank you.”

Then he ran off.

Chen Huihong also thought for a moment and added, “Thank you.”

Then she too ran off.

Watching the two figures head in different directions, the woman smiled, seemingly in a much better mood, and left with her food box.

Naturally, Qin Huai followed Chen Huihong. If he wanted to follow the beggar child, he didn’t have the conditions to do so—this dream belonged to Chen Huihong, so he could only follow the dream’s owner.

From the start of the dream, Chen Huihong had rarely eaten anything other than tree bark. The worms and earthworms Huiniang dug up were avoided, unfamiliar wild fruits were occasionally nibbled, and even the sweet potatoes Madam Zhang gave were never eaten with the skin.

Now, holding two well-presented white buns, Chen Huihong hesitated briefly before ultimately giving in to temptation and taking a bite.

Just one bite—and her eyes lit up.

The taste of the bun needed no further explanation.

Without hesitation, she stood by the roadside and devoured the rest of the buns. After finishing, she licked her lips in satisfaction, then looked at the remaining bun, hesitated, and tucked it into her clothes.

Passersby who had heard the rumors about her couldn’t help but remark to their companions:

“The mad young lady is hungry.”

“That bun does look good—white flour.”

“It’s just a white bun.”

Chen Huihong paid them no mind and continued walking. However, this time she seemed to have a direction—she was heading back toward the outskirts of the city rather than wandering aimlessly.

Leaving the bustling streets, beggars and refugees became more numerous, and Chen Huihong blended into the crowd, no longer the infamous “mad young lady,” but just another ordinary refugee.

She looked around as if thinking about something.

After walking for a while, she grabbed a relatively strong-looking refugee and asked, “Where is the porridge distribution?”

The refugee instinctively looked fierce, but upon seeing Chen Huihong was even stronger than him, he immediately gave directions.

“Over there. It’s said to be distributed by some prince. Their porridge is the thickest—lots of spoiled beans, less sand.”

Chen Huihong headed in that direction.

The refugee wasn’t lying. The porridge station was likely the most popular in the area—crowds were several times larger than elsewhere. The lines were chaotic and packed; some people were even trampled underfoot, crying out in pain.

At the porridge stand, several well-dressed supervisors lounged around, drinking tea leisurely. They barely managed anything—occasionally glancing at the remaining beans or when to wrap up, and from time to time tossing sand into the pot.

Chen Huihong squeezed through the crowd. The refugees assumed she was cutting in line, but seeing her strong build and healthy complexion, none dared to provoke her and quietly made way.

While pushing through, Chen Huihong heard a familiar voice.

“Chen sister!”

It was Huiniang, her face lighting up with surprise.

“Have you eaten?” Chen Huihong asked succinctly.

Huiniang shook her head. “There are too many people. I couldn’t get in line. And…”

She pointed at several large men near the porridge stand. “Even if you get to the front, you have to give them half a bowl. If you don’t, you’ll get beaten. I didn’t dare push forward.”

Huiniang’s build was actually decent among refugees—if she had tried harder, she might have already gotten porridge.

Seeing this, Chen Huihong grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the crowd into a quieter corner.

“Eat this,” Chen Huihong said, taking the flattened bun from her clothes and handing it to Huiniang. Under Huiniang’s shocked gaze, the bun slowly rebounded back to its original shape.

“Wow!” Huiniang exclaimed. “White bun… it’s really not white!”

Chen Huihong: …

Huiniang’s focus was a bit strange.

But whoever made that bun had impressive skills—its dough elasticity was extraordinary. Even after being crushed, it sprang back. Truly a unique technique.

Huiniang eagerly took a big bite and said loudly, “It’s sweet!”

“Sweeter than sugarcane!”

She quickly finished the entire bun and then asked expectantly, “Sister, did you go to the inner city?”

“I did.”

“Was it fun?”

“Alright. Pretty lively, lots of people.”

“I don’t dare go. They say people like us would get beaten inside.”

“Not really,” Chen Huihong replied. “As long as you don’t enter those… pastry shops, you won’t get beaten. If you just sit at the entrance, people will give you food and ask you to leave.”

Huiniang’s eyes widened in admiration.

“Did you find your parents?”

“No. They may not have come to Beiping,” Huiniang said cheerfully. “Sister, do you like this place? Are you staying here?”

“Probably.”

“Then… can I stay with you? I didn’t dare spend the seven copper coins you gave me in case they get stolen. From now on, you can wander around, and I’ll beg food in the inner city for you.”

Chen Huihong: “…Suit yourself.”

Qin Huai suspected she really meant: she didn’t want to beg.

“Where are we going now, sister?”

“I’m going to find some clothes.”

“Why?”

“Because you said I’d get beaten if I wore this into the inner city.”

“Sister…”

Qin Huai exited the dream.