Zhang Chen put the flatbread into his mouth. It was sweet, but his feelings were complicated.
"No matter where you go in this world, there are good people and bad people. There are bad people among the good, and good people among the bad; it is merely that everyone belongs to a different camp. I belong neither to the imperial court's camp nor the rebels' camp. What does his camp have to do with me? He gave me flatbread to eat! The imperial court's camp speaks with lofty righteousness, yet they will not give me a single grain of rice, and they still want to collect rent from me." Zhang Chen tucked the remaining sweet flatbreads into his clothes, then hugged the jar and continued onward through the wind and rain.
"They're only common folk who can no longer survive. What wrong have they done?" Zhang Chen muttered, tightening his grip on the flatbreads. "Whichever camp they belong to, as long as they don't involve me, it's fine."
He was not worried that the flatbreads had been poisoned. Anyone poisoned to death could not be hidden from the men, women, old, and young of the village. Once someone reported it to the authorities, they would be exposed.
Zhang Chen carried the white-flour flatbreads to Zhang Shi's home and found her doing needlework. He gathered the two little ones into his arms, then took out the white-flour flatbreads. The two immediately cheered and began gnawing on them, forgetting even about their elder brother.
"Mother, have one." Zhang Chen handed a white-flour flatbread to Zhang Shi.
Zhang Shi glanced at the flatbread, then at Zhang Chen. She did not take it, merely lowered her head and continued embroidering. "You eat it. You're still growing. If Mother eats it, it'll be a waste."