When Shen Qingwan came out, she saw that the father and sons were waiting at the door with a cart.

Seeing this, she asked Old Man Lu to stop the mule cart and then handed them a sack of grain from it.

“Cover the grain with clothes or dry grass so no one sees it,” she instructed.

After saying this, she turned to leave. Yang Zhiming, realizing what had just happened, quickly bowed to her in gratitude.

“Thank you, Miss,” he said sincerely.

Yang Chengji and the others were stunned with joy.

They hadn’t expected Shen Qingwan to give them an entire sack of grain.

Yang Zhiming was the first to snap out of his shock and immediately told them to cover the sack with dry grass. He then draped a blanket over it and helped his wife sit atop the concealed grain.

“Father, I saw it—it’s rice! A whole sack full of rice!”

The youngest son, sharp and observant, had caught sight of a few grains spilling out from the sack’s opening.

Excitedly, he clutched his father’s sleeve.

“Shh! Keep your voice down! We need to move quickly and catch up with the rest of the group,” Yang Zhiming hushed his son, then urged his eldest to pull the cart as they hurried to rejoin the team from Dahe Village.

To their surprise, Shen Qingwan and her people, after transporting the grain out of town, didn’t leave immediately.

Instead, they split into two groups—one left right away, while the other remained outside the town with carts full of grain.

Yang Zhiming hesitated, unsure of which group to follow. But seeing that Shen Qingwan wasn’t in a hurry to leave, he chose to stay with them.

He was utterly shocked when he saw her and about thirty men from the village distributing grain to the refugees.

They all knew how precious food was. Anyone giving away grain at a time like this was either a fool or a truly kind-hearted person.

It was clear that Shen Qingwan was no fool.

This meant she was genuinely compassionate, unwilling to let the starving refugees die, and thus provided them with food so they could survive.

The nearly lifeless refugees, seeing grain being distributed, struggled to their feet.

Those who had been selling their children stopped their transactions, quickly bringing their children over to collect food instead.

With food to eat, how could they possibly bear to sell their own children?

“Grandfather, there’s really a beautiful sister over there giving out food! Let’s go!”

An eight or nine-year-old girl tugged at her elderly grandfather, leading him toward Shen Qingwan’s group.

The old man was visibly weak, barely able to hold on, yet he had refused to sell his only granddaughter.

She supported her grandfather as they reached the line of people waiting for food. Under the supervision of the villagers, the refugees queued up in an orderly manner.

Some, impatient and eager to grab food, hesitated at the sight of the gleaming blades in the hands of the villagers, afraid to rush forward.

In the end, they had no choice but to wait in line.

Each person held a large bowl. Those who came to receive food were given one bowlful each—generous portions, weighing at least a pound.

Since they were in a hurry, Shen Qingwan didn’t have time to let them slowly distribute it.

She made sure each person got their share and urged them to leave quickly.

Hunter Zhang, with his rugged appearance and booming voice, intimidated the refugees into swiftly taking their grain and departing.

When it was the little girl’s turn, she eagerly stepped forward, tugging at the corners of her clothes to form a pouch in front of her chest, signaling that Shen Qingwan could pour the grain directly into it.

“Sister, there are two of us in total,” the girl said in a crisp voice.

Shen Qingwan noticed that she had nothing suitable to hold the grain, so she grabbed an empty sack nearby and scooped in three bowls of rice.

“This is for you and your grandfather,” she said.

The little girl, realizing she had received three portions, quickly expressed her gratitude. “Thank you, pretty sister!”

Behind her, the elderly man also bowed deeply in thanks before moving aside to make way for the next person.

Since they were in a hurry, the hundreds of pounds of grain were distributed in no time.

When the food was gone, those who had not received any grew anxious, but there was nothing left to give.

The ones who had gotten food, however, were no fools.

They wasted no time lingering and quickly dispersed, blending into the crowd to avoid being robbed.

Each person carried about a pound of grain—small enough to go unnoticed, making it difficult for any would-be thieves to find and steal it.

After distributing the food, Shen Qingwan and her group hurried to catch up with the main team.

They had sent the larger group ahead earlier to avoid potential trouble—whether from bandits or the risk of disease carried by the refugees.

During the food distribution, Shen Qingwan had already instructed her people to wear masks and keep their distance from the refugees as much as possible.

They jogged for about the time it takes to burn an incense stick and finally caught up with the main group.

Shen Qingwan’s concern had been justified—once the group had received extra grain, their pace had slowed.

Many villagers had carts, but they were heavy and primarily used to transport the elderly and children.

With additional grain loaded on, the carts became even more burdensome.

Some, realizing the difficulty, had already discarded most of their belongings, keeping only food and a few sets of clothes.

Others, unwilling to part with their possessions, gritted their teeth and pressed on.

As they hurried forward, Shen Qingwan thought they had finally left behind the dangers of Jixiang Town. However, fate had other plans.

Just as they had traveled an hour away from the town, they suddenly encountered a group of bandits heading straight for Jixiang Town.

“Run! Bandits are coming!”

“Bandits! It’s the bandits!”

Their path was suddenly flooded with terrified refugees running in the opposite direction, screaming warnings about approaching bandits.

The village chief’s heart sank, and panic quickly spread among the villagers.

Shen Qingwan moved to the front, frowning as she watched the frantic refugees flee.

The refugees could escape because they were scattered and could run in different directions. But their group couldn’t.

They were too large and consisted mostly of elderly people, women, and children.

If pursued, they might be able to speed up and escape.

But now, their path was blocked by bandits.

If they turned back, they risked being caught by them in Jixiang Town.

With their slow pace, they might not outrun the bandits anyway.

Instead of fleeing blindly, it was better to assess the enemy’s numbers and prepare for a fight.

The village chief seemed to understand Shen Qingwan’s thoughts, but as common folk, they were still fearful of facing ruthless bandits.

More than anything, the village chief feared that the enemy would outnumber them.

“What should we do, eldest daughter-in-law?” At some point, the village chief had grown accustomed to seeking Shen Qingwan’s guidance, treating her as their pillar of support.

Shen Qingwan narrowed her eyes at the approaching bandits.

They had horses—running was not an option.

“We can’t escape, Uncle. Have everyone prepare for battle. The elderly, women, and children should retreat with the supplies. The rest, grab your weapons and get ready to fight!”

The village chief nodded solemnly and relayed the orders.

After several battles, the villagers had become much more experienced.

Everyone quickly took up their positions, ready to defend themselves.

At the back of the group, the Yang family sensed the looming danger.

Yang Zhiming immediately told his four sons to grab their weapons and rush to the frontlines.

Meanwhile, he and his daughters-in-law gathered the children and carts, staying close to the elderly and women from Dahe Village.