Spy Wars: I am the Captain of the Military Police

Chapter 1010 Let's save money wherever possible.

Widow Sun immediately understood. Her eyes darkened, and a deep pity and sorrow flashed across them. She quickly took over the conversation, forcing a smile, and said, "Yes, yes, Xiao Juan, be good. Come inside with your aunt first. It's cold outside. We have something to eat. Eat something first and wait for your mother to come back."

This conversation also alerted the people in the courtyard.

Those children, who were so hungry they were on the verge of death and didn't even have the strength to cry, miraculously regained a faint glimmer of light in their eyes when they heard "there's food."

Struggling and supporting each other, they crawled out of the dark corner and gathered around the cart. Their deep-set eyes were fixed on the rice bags and cans on the cart, and their throats moved constantly, making soft swallowing sounds.

That glimmer of hope ignited by food temporarily overshadowed the despair that permeated the air.

Li Shouren and Widow Sun worked together with tremendous effort to carry the heavy sacks of rice and the precious canned goods into the house, hiding them in a corner in a hole barely covered by a tattered mat, as if they were their last lifeline.

Looking at the life-saving food, the two of them breathed a long sigh of relief, their tense nerves relaxing slightly, as if they had finally seen a faint, flickering candlelight in an endless, cold, dark abyss.

Widow Sun immediately got to work. She found a chipped earthenware pot, scooped out a small handful of coarse rice, mixed in a large handful of wild vegetable leaves that she had dug up and that still smelled of soil, drew water from the well in the yard, and started a fire to cook porridge.

As that small handful of rice tumbled in the boiling water, mingling with the wild vegetables and releasing the most primal aroma of food, the entire dilapidated courtyard seemed to be enveloped in a warm glow.

The fragrance, though faint, seemed to possess a magical power, temporarily dispelling the atmosphere of death and despair that permeated the air.

The porridge was ready, and Widow Sun carefully divided a small half bowl for each child.

The children held the broken bowls, not caring that they were hot, and sipped the food with great care, their faces showing a long-lost, almost devout expression of satisfaction.

Xiao Juan leaned against her father's chest, and Li Shouren fed her bite by bite, blowing on the food to cool it down.

She slowly drank the warm porridge, and a hint of drowsiness appeared in her large, frightened eyes, perhaps because she had finally returned to her father's side.

Looking at the scene before him, Li Shouren saw the children greedily drinking the thin porridge, and a hint of relief on the busy and tired face of Widow Sun. The daughter in his arms had finally stopped trembling. He felt that all the humiliation, fear, and loss of dignity he had suffered at the gate of the Japanese military police had been compensated for in a small way at this moment.

Perhaps the worst is truly over? Perhaps they can really survive this long and cruel winter with this meager amount of food they acquired at such a great cost?

Perhaps we can wait for Xiu'e to return.

This thought, like a fragile flame in the darkness, flickered weakly in his heart.

He forced himself to believe it, clinging tightly to this sliver of hope, for it was the only thing keeping him and these poor souls alive in this apocalyptic scene.

. . . . . . . . . .

But... hope is a luxury more precious than gold and more fragile than glass.

That afternoon and night when Li Shouren and his daughter returned to their dilapidated courtyard with the cartload of grain they had traded for with their dignity and pocket watches, it was perhaps the closest these people abandoned by fate had ever come to "hope" that winter.

The steam rising from the thin porridge that Widow Sun had cooked, the faint light in the children's eyes as they held the broken bowls, and Xiao Juan's gradually steady breathing in her father's arms—all of this created a brief and illusory picture of peace.

It was as if a small, flickering oil lamp had truly been lit in the boundless abyss of darkness.

In times of chaos, information spreads as quickly as despair.

The news of Li Shouren bringing back grain spread like a pebble thrown into a stagnant pond, its ripples spreading rapidly. It also spread like a winged plague, silently reaching the now even more crowded and desperate refugee camp from which they had been driven.

Under extreme hunger and survival pressure, the last vestiges of humanity's warmth and bottom line are being rapidly stripped away.

The next day, the afternoon of the sixth day of the first lunar month.

The sky was even more gloomy than usual, with leaden-gray clouds hanging low, as if pressing down directly on the ruins of Nanjing, not letting in a single ray of light.

The biting northwest wind howled, whipping up the snow and black ash from the ground, lashing against the dilapidated window frames and doors with a crackling sound, like the weeping of countless wronged souls.

The temperature seemed to have dropped a few degrees, and breath turned to frost.

Xiao Juan and the other children huddled together in the haystack in the inner room, warming themselves with each other's body heat. They didn't sleep well, and occasionally they would let out soft sobs or mumble in their sleep because of the cold or nightmares.

In the dilapidated courtyard, Li Shouren and Widow Sun squatted in a corner, whispering nervously as they discussed something. On the ground in front of them, simple markings were drawn with charcoal, representing their precious grain.

“Sister Sun,” Li Shouren’s voice was hoarse and tired, filled with deep worry, “this rice, at most, is just over a hundred catties, and twenty cans of food.”

The house had twenty-one mouths to feed, including the adults and children, and with Xiao Juan in tow.

Widow Sun stretched out her finger and unconsciously traced lines on the ground: "Even if we only drink two bowls of thin porridge a day, one bowl per person... it won't last many days."

The weather is getting colder and colder... I still think we should leave the city... and go to the countryside...

Widow Sun wrapped her tattered cotton-padded coat tighter around herself, which offered little protection from the cold wind, her brow furrowed, and continued to persuade, "Shouren, I know you miss your wife, but the children are weak from hunger. Thin porridge alone won't do; they need something more substantial..."

Those canned goods should be saved for when things get really tough... just in case someone gets a headache or fever... I heard yesterday that there's a relief station set up by local gentry in the countryside, why don't we go check it out?"

Li Shouren sighed, his eyes filled with struggle and helplessness: "For now, we can only prioritize the youngest and weakest children, adding a few more grains of rice to their porridge each day... As for us adults, we'll have to be frugal wherever we can..."

Just then...

"Clang!!!"

A sudden, deafening explosion, like a bolt from the blue, shattered the momentary silence!

The already rickety courtyard gate, barely held together by wooden sticks, was violently smashed open from the outside with tremendous force! Splinters of wood flew everywhere, and the cold wind, carrying icy snowflakes, instantly filled the entire courtyard!

Li Shouren and Widow Sun were horrified and stood up abruptly!

A dozen or so figures rushed in through the broken doorway like hungry wolves!