They were having a meeting and had no idea that the village entrance had been completely surrounded.
However, contrary to their expectations, Old Han and his twenty or so villagers were also somewhat at a loss.
"These are all people who fled from famine?"
"Isn't this a terrible thing? How old is she?"
That's right, the group of refugees blocking the village entrance were a dozen or so children. The oldest wasn't even as tall as Xiaohua, and the younger ones were being carried by the older ones. Old Han and several of his friends were fathers themselves, and they recognized them at a glance.
"Does this child have a fever?"
"Ouch, this is so hot! It's burning hot, how can you let the kids hold it?"
Where are your parents? How could you let a bunch of kids like you come out begging for food?
In this situation, begging for food isn't really an insult; it's just the truth.
Upon hearing this, the older children in front of them had red eyes, their legs went weak, and they knelt on the ground, tears streaming down their faces.
"Hey? Be careful!"
Old Han quickly bent down to pick up the child who almost tumbled onto the snow.
"Hey, this child, is he only wearing a single layer of clothing?"
Instantly, the group of men forgot all their precautions.
"What?"
"Oh my god, this is really terrible! Where are the adults? It's such a long way, and all we have are children!"
The older children on the ground remained in the position of kowtowing, tears streaming down their faces.
"Please, please save her! She's had a fever for two days. We have no water, no medicine. When we got here, we saw snow and fed it to her."
She won't wake up either, waaaaah!
"Please, we're not hungry. Can you please not give her anything to eat? Is she going to die?"
"Our parents gave us all the food. They... they're all starving to death. My older brother went out to find food but hasn't come back. Little sister... little sister can't starve to death either."
As fathers, they couldn't bear to see this kind of scene, and the atmosphere quickly became tense.
"Get up quickly, get up and talk."
"Your parents, they all starved to death?"
The older child's tears streamed down his face again as he bit his chapped lips.
"...They're all dead. They died the night before last. They told us to head north, saying there's grain there and many kind people. They told us to beg kind people—no, not to ask for a full meal, just a bite to eat so my little sister can live."
As he spoke, the child's legs went weak, and he knelt down and kowtowed again.
"Please, give us something to eat!"
A group of grown men felt quite bitter and didn't know what to say for a moment.
Old Han glanced at the child in his arms, then turned and walked back into the village.
"Child, don't worry, he took your little sister to find someone else. Let's wait here."
Seeing that the other children were about to rush forward to snatch it back, the others quickly stopped them.
"Don't worry, he's the militia captain, he won't harm your little sister."
By the way, tell us, do many people come from your village to work elsewhere?
This time, it was another child speaking. He looked more energetic than the first one, though his face was covered in dirt, streaked with black and white, but his eyes were still bright. Although his voice was a little hoarse, it was much more coherent.
“Our village is a big village. We didn’t plant anything this year, and we weren’t allowed to plant anything at home. People from the village came to cause trouble every day. In the summer, we dug for vegetables on the mountain. Later, we couldn’t find any more, so my grandparents and parents cried and came out with the villagers.”
Halfway there, some of them went to look for relatives. We had no relatives, so my grandparents said we should head north, where grain was grown, and if we met a kind person, they could give us some food and we could survive.
It had a slight regional accent, but it was still generally understandable.
"When we meet people from other villages on the road, we travel together. My family has many children and we don't eat much."
Some of them abandoned their maids, but my grandparents couldn't bear to part with them and gave us all the food.
Only then did the group take a closer look and realize that half of the dozen or so children were actually girls, but they were dressed in rags and their faces were covered in grime, so it was not immediately obvious.
"What, what do we do?"
Old Han carried the little girl and walked quickly into the village. The village entrance was still some distance from the village center, while Old Chen was about half the distance from the village office. He thought he would take her directly to Old Chen.
Jian Dan had just locked the gate and was about to go find Mingzhu when he turned around and saw Old Han running around as if he were carrying something. He casually called out to him.
"Uncle Han, what's the matter that's so urgent?"
Old Han stopped abruptly.
“Xiao Jian? Look, a group of kids have come over. This one is burning hot. I was thinking of going to find Old Chen to take a look. If he keeps burning like this, he'll go crazy.”
He was startled for a moment, then turned around sharply and saw them pulling the child up from the ground.
"Uncle, this can't be...?"
"Yes," Old Han nodded.
"That's right. Their whole village fled the famine, but only this family came north. As a result, the adults couldn't bear to eat and saved their food for the children. Now, the adults have all starved to death, and only these few children are left. They've already reached the village entrance."
Although somewhat surprised, she had a feeling about it. She simply peeked into the baby in Old Han's arms; the little face was flushed, and the lips were cracked and dry. She could feel the heat emanating from the baby's face with just a touch, and she was immediately startled.
"Wow! It's so hot!"
Jian Dan wasn't a good person, but she wasn't heartless either. She couldn't just sit idly by and watch such a young child grow up.
"That's right, isn't this a tragedy? With such a high fever, even adults would have a hard time getting through it, let alone such a young child. This is a life at stake."
I vaguely recall that, whether in history or in novels, there are indeed many examples of people whose brains were damaged by high fever.
My dear reader, there's more to this chapter! Please click the next page to continue reading—even more exciting content awaits!
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
