In this era, even without disasters, many people struggled to get enough to eat. Low crop yields and lot of wasteland, was a problem that couldn’t be solved overnight.

Luo Cheng is now facing an era marked by prolonged droughts. In the south, at least two harvests a year were possible, but the north only managed one. When droughts hit, the north was far less equipped to cope compared to the south.

Luo Cheng still had seven steamed buns in his bag. When he was discharged from the army, every soldier was given ten buns. These buns were large. Yesterday, they were still soft, and Luo Cheng reluctantly ate three. Today, they had hardened and were tasteless. Luo Cheng had hoped to improve his meals once he got home.

What he didn’t expect was that the steamed buns he dismissed as unappetizing were highly anticipated by his two younger sisters. They secretly calculated that now that their eldest brother, Luo Cheng, was back, the household had seven people in total. Seven buns meant one for each person—a delightful thought.

While it was true that poverty forced children to mature early, and Luo Shishi and Luo Xiaoyu were used to doing housework and even working in the fields, navigating social norms still required some polishing.

However, distributing the seven steamed buns equally among the family wasn’t feasible. Luo Cheng’s father, Luo Wen, had two brothers and two sisters, making them Luo Cheng’s uncles and aunts. In times like these, long-term planning was impossible. Everyone lived day-to-day, helping each other survive.

Both aunts were married nearby. In this era, even traveling to a nearby city was considered a long trip. For rural girls, the best outcome was to marry into a city. Most of the time, however, they married into neighboring villages.

So, the general plan was for each of Luo Cheng’s uncles and aunts to get one steamed bun to supplement their meals. But this required Luo Cheng’s approval. He was educated, a former soldier, and the eldest son. Although Luo Wen was still the head of the household, the family had always respected Luo Cheng’s opinions even before he joined the army.

Now that Luo Cheng had returned, he would eventually take over the household. The steamed buns were his, and even Luo Cheng’s mother, Zhang Ling, wouldn’t make decisions about them without consulting him.

Luo Cheng had just returned after escorting Qin Lan home. In this era, travel was entirely on foot, and he was truly exhausted.

Yian, in the south, was just a small city. Owning a bicycle in this era was a luxury even for families in large cities. In smaller cities, it was rare. Longyang Town, though considered a town, only had bicycles in some offices, with very few owned privately. To buy one, you’d have to travel to the city.

“Brother, you’re back! The bed is ready for you. If you want to rest, you can go to your room. But Mom said to visit her room first when you get home,” Luo Xiaoyu, his younger sister, greeted him.

Luo Shishi chimed in, saying she had already put away his backpack and belongings.

Honestly, Luo Cheng wanted nothing more than to lie down immediately. The train ride yesterday had been bumpy and slow, typical of this era. The lack of a smooth journey made it hard to sleep, and the long walk today left him utterly drained.

But his mother had called for him, so resting could wait a little longer.

The house was made of mud bricks, and the windows were covered with paper. Even during the day, the rooms were dim. The house was no more than 30 square meters, with a living room for meals, separated by two wooden partitions that housed two beds—one for his parents and one for his grandmother.

The room had chamber pots for small needs, while for larger needs, they had to go to a nearby outhouse. Most people didn’t eat much, so they only needed to relieve themselves every few days. If it couldn’t wait, they’d take a kerosene lamp outside. Flashlights weren’t a common household item.

“Mom, Grandma, I’m home,” Luo Cheng called out.

“Good grandson, come sit by Grandma,” his grandmother beckoned.

The room had a table and two long benches, along with two regular stools. When guests visited, or the family gathered, there weren’t enough seats for everyone.

Some rural customs forbade women from eating at the same table as men, but this wasn’t practiced in Yian. Normally, everyone ate together. However, if guests were over, women and children would eat separately. This wasn’t due to tradition but practical reasons—there weren’t enough seats, and children often ate without restraint, leaving little for the guests.

“Mom, what’s the matter?” Luo Cheng asked.

His grandmother wasn’t a stranger to him, and he sat close to her, feeling more comfortable than with his two younger sisters, who had suddenly appeared in his life.

“It’s about the steamed buns in your bag. When your sisters were organizing your things, they ‘accidentally’ saw them,” Wang Ling sighed before bringing up the topic.

She explained that the family had been supporting each other—his uncles and aunts included—and asked how Luo Cheng planned to handle the buns. Even though it wasn’t much, the steamed buns were made from fine flour. Boiled with some water and wild vegetables, they could make a pot of thin porridge. Sending a bun to his uncles and aunts wouldn’t solve much, but it would convey goodwill. It would also inform them that Luo Cheng had returned from the army.

“A few steamed buns, that’s all,” Luo Cheng thought to himself. Yet he couldn’t help but feel a little heavy-hearted. He had dismissed the buns as unappetizing, but to his family, they were a treasure.

Additionally, his understanding of his family had changed. Not only did he have siblings now, but his father’s family had grown as well. Luo Wen wasn’t an only child; he had a younger brother and sister—Luo Wu and Luo Juan. Now, Luo Cheng learned that there were even more uncles and aunts, whose names his mother hadn’t mentioned yet. Luo Cheng didn’t press for details, figuring he’d learn eventually.

“Mom, let’s not give them the buns. When I was discharged, the army gave me some severance pay and ration coupons. If we’re out of food, I’ll go buy some tomorrow. We can invite my uncles and aunts over for a meal. It’s been years since I’ve seen them, and now that I’m back, it’s a good opportunity to reconnect,” Luo Cheng suggested.

He felt that sending just a steamed bun was too stingy. Considering how precious the buns were, it was likely the family didn’t have much food. The severance package he received included national ration tickets, ensuring he could buy food even if he didn’t start working immediately.

In this era, even those working in the fields rarely had enough to eat. With the famine, people in rural areas barely worked, opting instead to conserve energy by lying down.

This bleak lifestyle left villages eerily quiet, with few people on the roads. Those fleeing starvation often collapsed somewhere, never to rise again.