An ox cart stopped on the main street of Ping’an Town.

Cheng Wanwan and Zhao Dashan jumped off the cart and headed straight for the pawnshop.

Though it was still early, the town was already bustling with people.

Stalls lined the streets, mostly selling snacks, filling the air with enticing aromas.

As they reached the pawnshop’s entrance, Cheng Wanwan hesitated for a moment. “Dashan, go buy two meat buns.”

She fished out a few copper coins from her waist pouch and handed them to him.

Zhao Dashan immediately turned and left.

Cheng Wanwan stepped into the pawnshop, where an assistant quickly approached to greet her.

She took out a silver hairpin from her sleeve.

The assistant examined it for a moment and then held up a single finger. “One hundred wen.”

Cheng Wanwan’s forehead twitched.

Her late husband had bought this hairpin for nearly one tael of silver, and now it was only worth a hundred wen?!

“The silver hairpin is too old, the design isn’t appealing, and besides, many people have been pawning jewelry recently, so the price has naturally dropped.” The assistant explained reasonably. “Madam, I’m not giving you a bad offer.”

The word madam made Cheng Wanwan silently shed tears.

She put the silver hairpin back in her sleeve. “Forget it, I won’t pawn it.”

A hundred wen was far too little. Pawning her late husband’s token of affection for a few copper coins simply wasn’t worth it.

She turned and left.

The assistant didn’t stop her—he knew that when her household completely ran out of food, this madam would be back.

Outside, Zhao Dashan had returned with the meat buns. He eagerly asked, “Mother, how much did you get?”

Cheng Wanwan slipped the hairpin into her sleeve and said, “Two hundred wen.”

Yesterday’s earnings from selling mushrooms had already gone toward some spices and soap.

This morning, she had spent money on the meat buns, leaving exactly two hundred wen.

Zhao Dashan grinned. “Two hundred wen can buy a lot of grain…”

Only with food at home could he feel secure.

Cheng Wanwan handed him ten wen. “Go to the general store and buy some salt and a few other necessary seasonings. I’ll check out the grain shop.”

Zhao Dashan stuffed a meat bun into his mouth, took the coins, and hurried off.

Cheng Wanwan walked straight to the grain shop, where every type of grain had its price listed: twelve wen per jin of rice, five wen per jin of millet, and eight wen per jin of flour.

She frowned. The last time she had come to town for grain, millet had only cost two wen per jin. How had the price increased so much in such a short time?

Leaving the grain shop, she stepped into a quiet alley and opened a virtual marketplace. Compared to the grain shop, the food in the marketplace was much cheaper.

Rice was only two wen per jin—she bought twenty jin. Flour was four wen per jin—she bought another twenty jin. Then, she spent thirty wen on an iron pot.

Her basket instantly became heavy. She had planned to buy more, but she couldn’t carry any more weight.

As she stepped out of the alley, Zhao Dashan approached, holding a small packet of salt. “Mother, salt prices went up. Ten wen only got me this little bit.”

Cheng Wanwan shook her head. “I bought some, too. Let’s go home.”

Salt in the virtual marketplace was cheap—ten wen could buy five large packets.

Just as they were about to board the ox cart, a commotion erupted in the street. The townspeople looked panicked and were murmuring amongst themselves.

“Last night, bandits broke into Master Wang’s house and stole a thousand jin of rice!”

“Those bandits are too bold! They actually raided someone’s home for grain. Did they report it to the authorities?”

“They reported it last night, but no one has been caught yet. Everyone, be sure to lock your doors tight at night, or you might be the next target.”

Cheng Wanwan turned her head and saw that the grain shop’s price board had changed—rice was now fifteen wen per jin.

Zhao Dashan was dumbfounded. “Why is it so expensive…”

Cheng Wanwan sighed.

With a thousand jin of grain stolen, the already scarce supply had become even more precious. If today’s price was fifteen wen, tomorrow it could be twenty.

Luckily, she had the marketplace, so she wasn’t worried about rising prices.

But for others in this era, hardship was inevitable.

Pushing aside her complicated feelings, Cheng Wanwan led Zhao Dashan onto the ox cart.

As they sat down, Zhao Da glanced at her basket and casually asked, “Sister-in-law Zhao, why did you buy a pot? This pot looks quite good. When did Blacksmith Zhu get so skilled?”

Cheng Wanwan replied, “It’s not from Blacksmith Zhu.”

She refused to say more about where she got it.

Zhao Da thought to himself, At a time like this, just having food to eat is a blessing, yet this wasteful woman actually spent money on a pot.

The others on the ox cart had all come to town for supplies, but they were in low spirits. They started chatting idly.

“Millet is five wen per jin now. I can’t afford that—I just bought some buckwheat flour instead.”

“My family has only three days’ worth of food left. If it doesn’t rain soon, we’ll be chewing on tree bark.”

“Last year, after the locust plague, the imperial court sent relief grain. If there’s no harvest this year, they won’t just abandon us, right?”

“Our area is suffering from drought, but I heard that in Ancheng, it’s raining nonstop, drowning all their crops. With so many people in distress, does the imperial court even have enough grain to go around?”

The conversation grew heavier and heavier.

Suddenly, something flew onto Cheng Wanwan’s head.

She froze in fear, unable to move. “Dashan, quick! Get it off me!”

In her 33 years of life, she feared nothing—except bugs and spiders.

Zhao Dashan quickly reached out and grabbed the insect.

But when he saw what it was, his face turned pale. “Uncle Da, take a look. Is this… a locust?”

A greenish-yellow insect with long front wings—what else could it be?

The women on the cart shrieked.

“Didn’t the locusts leave last year? Why are they back?”

“Don’t scare yourself! It’s just one locust. Just crush it and be done with it.”

Aunt Fugui stepped forward, grabbed the locust, and crushed it in her hand.

Its insides burst out as she threw it onto the cart floor and stomped on it twice more, venting her anger.

There was an old saying: Where locusts pass, not a blade of grass remains.

Locust plagues were even more terrifying to these villagers than droughts.

With drought, there was still hope for rain.

But if locusts arrived, they could strip every crop bare within a day.

Last year had been just like that—Dahe Village had no harvest at all.

They had survived only on imperial relief and whatever they could grow in autumn and spring.

No one dared to endure another year like that.

When they reached the village entrance, Cheng Wanwan and Zhao Dashan jumped off the cart and returned home.

Only Wu Huiniang was there, mending clothes.

Cheng Wanwan entered and said, “Huiniang, close the door.”

The incident in town had made her realize that having food must never be revealed.

Otherwise, it would attract trouble.

That was why she had bought a pot—it covered the contents of her basket so no one could see what she had brought home.

Not even Zhao Dashan knew exactly what she had purchased.

She set the iron pot aside and then started unpacking—twenty jin of rice, twenty jin of flour, two jin of pork belly, a large bag of coarse salt, and various essential seasonings, filling the entire table…

She was now completely out of money and would have to gather mushrooms in the mountains that afternoon to earn some more.

Cheng Wanwan handed the pork belly to Wu Huiniang. “Today, we’re having braised pork for lunch.”

Wu Huiniang hesitated. “Mother, what is braised pork?”