Disaster Victims

The slurping never stopped. Niu San squatted amid the crowd, clutching a large bowl and noisily gulping down the porridge inside.

The millet and sorghum porridge was thin, mixed with wild greens, radish shoots, sweet potatoes, and yam potatoes.

Yet even so, Niu San ate while weeping. It was simply too delicious. In all his life, he had never eaten anything this good.

He stretched out his tongue and licked the bowl clean, then slipped out from the squatting crowd and timidly made his way toward the porridge shed.

Though he had wasted away beyond recognition, Niu San was still a large man, and the village militiamen nearby immediately noticed him.

"What are you doing?! Stand right there!" Several Oxheart Village militiamen pointed their spears at Niu San and barked sternly.

They could not help being stern. Deep down, they were frightened too. Where had this whole gang of disaster victims suddenly come from?

"Th-then, sir... Didn't you say two bowls per person? Could I get another bowl?" Niu San craned his neck and asked ingratiatingly.

When a great ladleful of coarse-grain porridge was poured into his bowl, Niu San immediately nodded and bowed, retreating back into the crowd to enjoy his meal.

Back when he was in the army, he had at least been a squad leader, someone of some standing. But now, as long as there was food to eat, he would even kneel and crawl between someone's legs.

After licking his bowl clean once more, the quick-witted Niu San secretly looked toward the nearby village.

Unlike the ruined walls and broken rubble he had seen before, this village was full of life, without the slightest sign of having suffered a disaster.

This was far too strange. When that heavenly calamity had descended, fewer than one in ten