Font Size:
Seriously, what kind of awful stuff was this? It scratched his throat like sandpaper going down. Every time he came home, the whole family would force a few bites into him. Fine, let Third Zhao have it—just meant they could each eat a little less and sneak off to their rooms later to nibble on a few snacks instead.
“Mother, are you saying my daughter isn’t even allowed a steamed cornbread bun?”
Old Master Zhao’s expression darkened in displeasure. One after another, none of them knew how to keep quiet. “Third Zhao, don’t mind your mother. She’s muddled in the head. Just hurry up and bring it to Zhenyu. After all the commotion today, she must be hungry.”
Zhao Dashu’s gaze turned heavy. So Father meant that it was Zhenyu’s own fault for causing trouble? That she’d stirred up this mess for no reason? He had almost lost his daughter, and yet the old man didn’t seem the least bit concerned. Instead, he acted like Zhenyu had brought shame to the family.
Ha!
“Wife, you take this to Zhenyu.”
As he spoke, he shoved the bowl and chopsticks into her arms. Holding the bowl, he went back to ladling the porridge—one bowl for himself, one for his wife, and one for his daughter. Each person got a bowl of porridge and a cornbread bun. When Zhao Dawen glanced at his third brother, he could tell—Third Zhao was genuinely furious this time. And rightly so. If someone had dared to mess with his own daughter, he wouldn’t have let it slide either.
Everyone loves their own. Even if they were to sell her off, it would be his decision. The money would go to him. So what were they thinking—were they trying to help Big Brother raise his daughter now?
Master Zhao’s face turned from red to blue, then from blue to black. This damn brat—was he doing this just to spite him?!
Unfilial son!
Madam Song pushed open the door. “Zhenyu, come have something to eat.”
Zhao Zhenyu still retained the original host’s memories. She knew exactly what meals at the Zhao Family were like. One look at the bland, watery porridge and the dark, rough cornbread buns, and her face turned green. Seriously—was this even edible?
Even pigs wouldn’t touch this stuff, come on!
She hadn’t expected to transmigrate just to end up in a place as miserable as a post-apocalyptic wasteland. No—this was worse than the apocalypse. Back then, at least they had nutrient pills. Just tilt your head back, swallow, and you wouldn’t need to eat again all day—and you wouldn’t even feel hungry.
“Eat quickly! You’ve got to eat something to build up your strength. After everything you’ve been through, you should be taking care of yourself.” Madam Song’s voice had a slight hint of concern. Her daughter had just survived a great ordeal, narrowly escaping death. She should’ve been well-fed and cared for, but…
“Mother, I can’t eat anymore.” If she didn’t stop now, she would even be unable to swallow the soup.
“Ai, take your time. Just make sure you finish it! I’ll make some medicine for you once you’re done.”
Thankfully, her father had promised to get medicine for Zhenyu, which led to two doses—one for today and one for tomorrow.
As Madam Song left, Zhao Zhenyu took a bite of the cornbread. What was this? The taste of the porridge was like a nutrient liquid mixed with something else—it was just too rough. It felt like chaff. No, it was chaff!
She swallowed painfully, the burning sensation in her throat making it unbearable. She couldn’t continue!
But the stir-fried cabbage and green beans weren’t bad. Although it was boiled and plain, it had a hint of sweetness—this she could eat.
But she had almost forgotten what vegetables tasted like!
A bite of porridge, a bite of vegetables, a bite of cornbread—nothing left. She couldn’t complain. She had no right to complain. For someone who barely had two or three meals a day, who was she to be picky about food? Beggars couldn’t be choosers.
“Have you finished eating?”
The bowl was empty, clean as could be. Zhao Dashu sighed. His daughter… Had she eaten enough?
“I’m done! How about you? Did you have your meal, Mother?” Zhao Zhenyu wiped her mouth in satisfaction, her stomach finally feeling full, and she felt much better.
Usually, their meals were served by Grandma. Back then, it was only half a cornbread bun, a bowl of watery rice soup, and a few leaves of vegetables. You couldn’t even dare to take more than a couple of pieces.
Her younger sister ate even less—just a chunk of cornbread, and a tiny bit of rough rice porridge, barely enough to fill the bottom of the bowl.
“Just eat, don’t mind Grandma.”
Oh, she dared not. If Grandma ever flipped out, she would cry, scream, and even threaten to hang herself!
Grandmother was the expert in that trick, always winning with it every time.
“I’m afraid Grandma will make a fuss and accuse me of being unfilial.”
Zhao Dashu choked, realizing that it was indeed his mother’s doing.
“Lihua, you stay with your sister. I’ll go make the medicine. Is that okay?”
He needed to calm down and think. What should he do now?
He worked himself to the bone, and yet his daughter and wife still lived like they were human beings!
Was it really because he, Zhao Dashu, was unworthy of living?
He refused to accept that!
His second brother had three sons—why couldn’t any of them pass down anything to him?
“Husband, the medicine is ready. Take it to him, I’ll stay here with Zhenyu.”
Zhao Dashu fought to calm his restless emotions, holding the medicine bowl as he walked to the door of his brother’s room.
His Eldest brother’s family hadn’t lived there long, and the room, though only two small rooms, was a step above his own. His second brother had two rooms, while he himself was cramped in a storage room. Everyone else lived in brick houses, but his was a mud-brick shack.
It was unbearable—each day felt more bitter, more difficult, and it hit him hard. He had sunk this low…
“Eldest brother, the medicine’s ready. Drink it while it’s hot…” His voice faltered as he paused, his nose catching a sweet fragrance. What was that?
Zhao Dawen’s eyelids twitched, but he said nothing. “Just leave it.”
Zhao Dashu’s dark expression deepened as he turned and walked out the door. Stepping into the courtyard, he glanced back at the door of his eldest brother’s house.
“Master, hurry and drink it! Third Brother is too harsh, look at what he did to you.”
Zhao Dawen interrupted impatiently, “Did you really have to bring it up?” This humiliating incident—was it really necessary to keep bringing it up?
Madam Wang resentfully handed him the medicine bowl.
“Ugh…” This was too bitter! “What kind of thing is this? How can it be so bitter?”
Zhao Dawen scrunched his face, his features twisting in displeasure. Madam Wang tried to soothe him, “What medicine isn’t bitter? Good medicine is bitter. Hurry up and drink it, Master!”
Zhao Dawen was a man who prided himself on his refinement and status. He disliked being referred to in the rustic way that others used to address him. When he heard the term “Master,” it made him feel important. He wasn’t some peasant—he was a “Master!”
Bah, good medicine being bitter? Was he supposed to accept this rustic, country medicine? What kind of nonsense was this bitter stuff?
“I won’t drink it!”
“Master!”
“Why not drink it? Dawen, after you drink it, I’ll give you a piece of candy to sweeten your mouth,” Madam Wang coaxed, already pulling out a piece of candy. But, as soon as she held it out, the candy had already melted in her hand, and the sticky mess clung to her fingers.
What a joke! A dose of medicine cost thirty copper coins, and this dead girl’s two doses were only worth ten copper coins. The medicine she prepared for him was clearly the real deal—no need to waste it! He had to drink it!
“Drink it!”