Chapter 4 – The First Time Tasting Poverty

The brigade had scheduled food distribution for the evening. After helping out and doing a good deed, everyone returned to the fields in high spirits. Worried that something might go wrong with Shen Mo’er, Zhou Peijun simply gave Shen Shaoyuan the day off as well, telling him to hurry home, light the fire, cook a proper meal, and let father and daughter eat well first.

When the members of Team 8 returned to the fields, people from other teams quickly gathered around to ask what had happened.

They had been working a bit farther away, and only heard that someone had fainted and that Doctor Liu had been called. Then, they saw a crowd gathering and didn’t know what was said, only that the whole group marched back into the village.

Even if the others stayed quiet, Aunt Chen and a few others didn’t hold back. Completely ignoring the dark faces of Cao Mei and Tian Fang, who trailed behind, they told the full story — how these two sisters-in-law had seized food from Shen Laoqi’s household, leading to Shen Mo’er fainting in the fields from hunger.

Everyone was appalled. The looks they gave Cao Mei and Tian Fang grew odd and suspicious.

These days, grain was as good as a family’s lifeline — stealing someone’s food was no different from trying to kill them.

Very soon, the story spread through several nearby work teams.

In Team 12, a short guy with glasses who looked pretty mild-mannered came rushing back from Team 10’s fields. The young men weeding looked at him with curiosity. He jogged over to a tall, lean, handsome young man and whispered mysteriously, “I heard that Shen Mo’er from Team 8 fainted from hunger.”

A square-faced young man nearby leaned in. “Zheng Jiamin, tell us properly what happened. Our brigade isn’t exactly short on food. How could someone faint from hunger?”

Zheng Jiamin looked a little confused. “That’s just it. Shen Laoqi’s daughter, Shen Mo’er—word is their household ran out of food days ago and she was so hungry that she fainted after doing a bit of work.”

The square-faced man was called Zhang Zhiqiang. He furrowed his brow in thought. “Shen Laoqi… Shen Mo’er… which ones are they?”

Zheng Jiamin recalled how quiet and unnoticed the father and daughter usually were. Apart from himself—who was always chatting with team members and had a good grasp of the village situation—most others probably didn’t know who Shen Laoqi and Shen Mo’er were. So he explained, “They’re the seventh uncle and cousin of Shen Lingling.”

Shen Lingling was the youngest daughter of Shen Lao’er’s family. A high school student with a gentle temperament and delicate looks, she was considered one of the rare ‘talented and beautiful’ girls in the village.

Although the educated youth had been sent to the countryside, deep down they still harbored a sense of superiority as city folk. When they secretly discussed what would happen if they couldn’t return to the city and had to marry in the countryside, many admitted that out of everyone in Yangliu Brigade, only Shen Lingling was worthy of them.

It wasn’t just about Shen Lingling herself—her parents were also decent, especially her mother Tian Fang, who was known for being particularly gentle and kind, quite unlike the brash village aunties.

So everyone was familiar with Shen Lingling, but her seventh uncle and cousin… nobody had much of an impression.

Zhang Zhiqiang frowned and said, “If they’re from the Shen family, then how come Shen Lingling’s family is doing well while her seventh uncle’s family is starving? Must be that this family is just lazy and didn’t earn enough work points.”

There’s a saying: help those in an emergency, not the chronically poor. Clearly this family was just hopeless. Otherwise, someone as kind-hearted as Shen Lingling would surely have helped them.

Zheng Jiamin opened his mouth, hesitating. He had vaguely heard that it was Aunt Cao and Aunt Tian who had taken Shen Laoqi’s family’s grain, which had led to their starvation.

But Aunt Tian always seemed gentle and kind; it was hard to imagine her doing such a thing. Besides, several of the educated youth openly admired Shen Lingling. If he said anything now, they’d probably gang up on him.

After thinking it over, Zheng Jiamin swallowed the words back and simply made a fair comment based on his knowledge. “Uncle Shen Laoqi and his daughter depend on each other. They’ve always worked hard in the fields. Zhang Zhiqiang, you’re being too judgmental.”

Zhang Zhiqiang replied, “If that’s the case, then how did they run out of food? If it’s not laziness, then they must have been careless or greedy—ate all their food before the next distribution.”

Zheng Jiamin scratched his head. He really didn’t think the father and daughter were that type of people, but he hadn’t been standing at their stove, so he couldn’t exactly guarantee it.

At this point, the handsome young man who had been silently weeding suddenly paused, wiped the sweat from his forehead with the worn towel draped over his neck, and said blandly, “Our leader taught us: no investigation, no right to speak.”

Zhang Zhiqiang’s face turned ugly. But since the other had quoted the leader, he couldn’t argue. After a moment of fumbling, he muttered, “Fu Mingze, don’t get all ideological. I was just making a logical assumption.”

Fu Mingze gave him a deep look, nodded slightly, and lowered his head to resume weeding.

Zhang Zhiqiang felt like he’d punched cotton—awkward and stuck, with nowhere to vent.

Zheng Jiamin chuckled as he picked up his hoe and, while Zhang Zhiqiang wasn’t paying attention, secretly gave Fu Mingze a thumbs-up.

Fu Mingze tugged at the corner of his mouth and said, “Get to work.”

As he spoke, he couldn’t help but glance in the direction of the Eighth Squad.

Fainting from hunger in the fields… Whether or not the brigade’s distributed rations were enough, it was certain that the family was extremely poor. Otherwise, even if they didn’t have any grain, they could have used money to privately exchange some, or if desperate, taken the risk of buying from the black market.

Still, all of that had nothing to do with him.

*

Back home, Shen Mo’er clumsily lit a fire and cooked half a small pot of porridge, relying on the memories in her mind.

In fact, she and her father had just had some pastries before coming to this world. But after arriving, likely due to some supernatural manipulation by the Heavenly Way, Shen Mo’er found her body extremely weak, her stomach completely empty, and she was so hungry it felt like her chest was sticking to her back—

Although fainting in the fields had been an act, Shen Mo’er inexplicably felt that if she didn’t eat something soon, she might actually follow in the original body’s footsteps and drop dead.

While Shen Mo’er cooked porridge, Shen Shaoyuan went inside and moved their quilts and mats to the doorway to air them out. He also cleaned the entire house inside and out. The two broken chairs and one old wooden chest that had also gotten soaked in the rain were moved outside as well.

This home truly was impoverished beyond words.

Both quilts were stiff as boards, clearly not just from being wet, but from years of use—so much so that the cotton inside had become hard and compacted. Even if they weren’t soaked, they probably wouldn’t be very warm.

The old wooden chest was shared by the father and daughter. Aside from a few pieces of clothing, it contained only some worthless odds and ends.

But inside, Shen Shaoyuan found several small paper slips that had been carefully preserved. These small slips had “pictures” of people on them—one showed a couple with two children, another a young boy and girl, and the last a couple holding a young girl.

Shen Shaoyuan knew these paper slips weren’t drawings but something called photographs.

The first photograph was a childhood family portrait of “his” wife. The couple were “his” parents-in-law, and the teenager was “his” brother-in-law. The second photo showed his wife and brother-in-law grown up. The third was of “himself,” his wife, and a young “Shen Mo’er.”

What startled Shen Shaoyuan was that “his” wife’s appearance was exactly the same as that of his late princess consort who had died young in Daliang.

Even though the in-laws, brother-in-law, and the second and third sisters-in-law were all completely different from anyone in Daliang, her face was identical.

Shen Shaoyuan sighed deeply and showed the photos to Shen Mo’er. “Not only do they look the same, even her demeanor and expressions are similar. But your mother—though she was weak—never suffered in her lifetime. She looked a bit more vibrant than this lady.”

Shen Mo’er had lost her mother at a young age and only knew her mother’s appearance from portraits drawn by Shen Shaoyuan. No matter how well-drawn a painting was, it couldn’t compare to a photograph—a photograph was like a fleeting moment captured by the Heavenly Way itself.

Shen Mo’er gently touched the image of the woman in the photograph. Even though she knew this person wasn’t truly her mother, she still couldn’t help but stare at it a little longer.

“One of these days, we should go to the county town and get a few photographs taken too,” Shen Shaoyuan said cheerfully, quickly putting the photos away, not wanting his daughter to dwell on sad thoughts. “This place is strange—its people don’t look wealthy, yet they get to enjoy things even the nobility of Daliang couldn’t.”

Shen Mo’er glanced at him coolly. “Sure—if you’ve got money.”

Shen Shaoyuan choked a little, then said sheepishly, “Soon. We’ll have money soon.”

The treasury they had did indeed contain untold riches. But unfortunately, none of it could be used. For instance, the promissory notes from Daliang’s banks—freely exchanged across neighboring nations—were nothing but scrap paper here. The gold, silver, jewels, antiques, and paintings—on one hand, they couldn’t explain their origins; on the other, even if they took them out, according to the laws of this world, they’d be confiscated, and the two of them might even be jailed or killed.

Setting aside the treasury, their actual, legal assets at the moment consisted of a single half-yuan coin.

Yes. Fifty cents.

Barely enough to buy a few eggs.

For the first time in their lives, the father and daughter experienced what it truly meant to be poor.

Thankfully, they had retrieved the grain, and they also had some pastries and dry food stored in the treasure vault. For now, they didn’t need to worry about starving.

The porridge was thin, but paired with the pastries, it made a decent meal. Even though they knew the original father and daughter weren’t popular and no one was likely to visit, they didn’t dare be careless—they bolted the door before eating. By the end of the meal, both of them were sweating from head to toe.

Shen Mo’er pulled out a towel and a washbasin to wash her face.

The basin had clearly been used for a long time. Some paint had chipped off and been sloppily covered with paint of a different color, leaving the surface lumpy and uneven. Still, compared to the towel, the basin—despite being old—was at least clean. The towel was yellowed with age, worn thin, with two large holes and stiff as cardboard.

In the end, Shen Mo’er just filled the basin with clean water and washed her face with her hands.

There were indeed some cloth materials in the treasure vault, but according to the original owner’s memories, fabric in this country was extremely scarce. You needed not just money but also coupons to buy cloth in stores. Rural people didn’t get fabric coupons; most had to weave rough cloth themselves.

So even a scrap of fabric was something Shen Mo’er didn’t dare take out.

This must be what it means to be begging while sitting on a mountain of treasure, Shen Mo’er thought to herself with a bitter chuckle. But she wasn’t discouraged. After all, just being alive was already fortunate. This place might be poor, but the country was at peace, and the people lived safe and content lives. Compared to war-torn Daliang, this place was practically a paradise.

That afternoon, the father and daughter repaired the house.

Shen Shaoyuan was a frail scholar with little physical strength. Shen Mo’er, on the other hand, had learned some basic martial arts with a few of the princes since childhood. While she couldn’t lead troops into battle, climbing a ladder to fix roof tiles was nothing for her.

Many of the tiles were broken. They didn’t know where to buy more—and even if they did, they had no money. So, they removed some tiles from the corners of the roof and moved them to the center. The gaps they filled with bundles of thatch. At least that way, the most important parts wouldn’t leak.

And so, for the first time in their lives, the father and daughter truly understood the meaning of “barely making ends meet.”

“Looks like the money to fix this house will have to come from those dear nephews of mine,” Shen Shaoyuan sighed.