Font Size:
The night deepened, and a crescent moon slowly rose.
They had already left the city late, and further delays outside the gates made it impossible to reach the next post station or inn before dawn. The official entourage halted at a relatively flat hillside beside a wooded area and chose it as their resting place for the night.
Servants lit bonfires and set up an iron pot. Before long, the aroma of meat soup and roasted flatbread spread through the cool night air.
After traveling half a day with little rest, hunger gnawed at everyone. Occasionally, someone would glance longingly at the bubbling pot, secretly swallowing their saliva.
“Stop staring, your food’s right here,” one of the servants said, shaking out a bundle to reveal a full pack of coarse, dark wheat bread.
The women of the Liang family had just stepped down from their carriage. Upon seeing this, they exchanged a glance with the maid beside them.
Immediately, one of them stepped forward and said, “Thank you, my lord,” casually taking the bread allocated to the Liang family. But they clearly had no intention of eating it. Instead, they let the horses pulling their cart sniff it. When even the horses showed no interest, the bread was tossed aside.
The servant didn’t bat an eye at the waste. He continued on, distributing portions to the Feng and Bai families.
The old matriarch of the Feng family received the bread, gave it a pinch, and her mouth turned down in disgust. She muttered under her breath as the servant walked away, “Black-hearted thing. Drinking meat soup and eating white flatbread, and you give us this?”
Back in her day, even when the Feng family was still tilling land and Master Feng hadn’t yet become an official, they’d never eaten bread this dry and tough!
She thought her voice was quiet enough not to be heard, but the servant—who had just reached the Bai family—suddenly turned around. His expression cold and stern, he barked, “If you don’t want it, then return it! Some people are lucky to eat at all—don’t be ungrateful!”
Not far off, the officer in charge of the convoy glanced over. With a sharp crack, he struck his whip against the ground and sneered, “Seems I’ve been too lenient. You lot are forgetting your place.”
Master Feng, who had just removed his wooden shackles and sat beside his family, quickly stood and cupped his hands in a bow.
“My lord, please forgive my mother. She’s elderly, and her mind is no longer clear. I will be more careful from now on and ensure there are no further disturbances.”
The officer gave a cold humph, glanced over at the Feng family, and finally tucked his whip away.
Only then did the trembling old matriarch stop shaking. She hunched her shoulders and sat close beside her daughter.
Miss Feng Er scolded under her breath, “Mother, why did you have to provoke the servants?”
“I… I didn’t mean to,” the old woman muttered.
Seeing Master Feng’s face grow darker by the second, she dared not say more. Instead, she began ordering her daughters-in-law to prepare the meal.
Meanwhile, the Wei family received their share of rations.
15 fist-sized black steamed buns—one for each person except the infant Jiarong.
The buns were dense and rock-hard. While they could fill a stomach, biting into one risked a broken tooth. How were they supposed to eat these?
“These buns won’t spoil. Let’s just save them for later,” Wei Yunlan said. “We bought plenty of rice, flour, dried goods, and cured meats before leaving the city. Let’s eat those for now.”
“Miss, we can eat the buns,” Steward Wang offered.
“How could we let it come to that?” Wei Maolin said, shaking his head. His neck was still stiff from wearing wooden shackles for so long. “Wang Fu, your family chose to follow us into hardship. We’re already beyond distinctions between master and servant. If there’s food, we share it.”
“Exactly,” Wei Yunlan added. “No one needs to worry. We’ve got enough supplies for now. And even if we run low, we’ll pass an inn or a village where we can buy more.”
While the others rested or took turns on the cart, Wei Yunlan quietly tore open the seam of her cloak. As she expected, several hidden items fell into her hands.
10 gold leaves, 8 banknotes worth a hundred taels each, and 2 finely carved jade pendants—easily sold, if needed.
She guessed this was all the silver Yuying could gather. Aunt Xiang likely contributed as well. Though the Xiang family wasn’t rich, and the Inspection Department wasn’t a lavish post, they’d done what they could. It wasn’t just generosity—it was sincerity.
As the saying goes: it’s easy to add flowers to brocade, but help in times of need touches the heart most.
With this sum, plus the silver and stores in her personal space, Wei Yunlan felt confident they wouldn’t run out of supplies anytime soon.
The goods on the mule cart were enough to last until the next stop.
As for the fifteen rejected black buns, Wei Yunlan wasn’t about to waste them. While pretending to rummage under the cart seat for sausages, she discreetly transferred the buns into her space.
You never knew when something like that might come in handy.
Soon, she pulled out five sausages and a jar of lard from her space. Then she instructed Ningshuang to fetch rice, green beans, and the iron pot from another cart covered in oilcloth.
Granny Wang, who stood beside Madam Gao, immediately understood. “Young lady plans to make sausage braised rice? Leave it to me.”
Granny Wang’s cooking was among the best in the entire Wei household. If not for Madam Gao needing her nearby, she’d have been managing the kitchen long ago.
Wei Yunlan smiled and handed over the ingredients. “Then I’ll trouble you, Granny.”
As Granny Wang expertly sliced sausage, the others bustled around the camp.
The mistress and her servants had no time to rest. Some gathered firewood, others stoked the fire. Wei Yunlan and Madam Gao led the maids to the creek to wash rice and clean the pot.
Elsewhere, the other families were also preparing. The Liang family had their own attendants. The Fengs had none left, but Feng Old Madam and her daughters-in-law were experienced and efficient, working like seasoned maids.
The Bai family, however, had little movement. The elderly and children huddled together, sipping water and gnawing their hard bread, one slow bite at a time.
The Wei family’s fire blazed brightly. Though the food was simple, the aroma of sausage and rice stew was rich and mouth watering—quickly overshadowing even the meat soup’s scent.
The Feng family’s young boys, 5 or 6 years old, wrinkled their noses at their own noodle soup and started whining for meat.
The adults were too worn out to scold them. Seeing no one stop them, the children began inching toward the Wei family’s fire.
Just as one boy’s hand reached toward a bowl, Wei Jiayan swiftly hugged his rice and darted to Cheng Yue’e’s side, his little feet thudding in the quiet night.
No one from the Wei family acknowledged the Feng children. They ate in silence, focused on their own bowls.
Empty-handed, the children eventually slunk back to their own camp, faces full of disappointment.