That evening, everyone dispersed.
Zhao Hong lay against her husband, sobbing softly.
She had wrapped Ma Sanxiong's middle finger in a little cotton.
"Sanxiong, eat this steamed bun. Don't go hungry. Do a good job on patrol tomorrow."
Zhao Hong pulled a steamed bun with one bite taken out of it and a mostly full packet of pickled mustard greens from her bulging bosom. This was her afternoon ration. She had taken only one bite before hiding it away.
She couldn't bring the porridge over, so she had drunk it herself.
Although her stomach was now aching with hunger, Zhao Hong still gave the bun to her husband.
Ma Sanxiong snatched it with his uninjured hand, cursing as he wolfed it down. He even licked clean the crumbs between his fingers and the juice inside the packet of pickles.
"Those fucking animals! Just wait till I let the zombies in to bite them to death! This isn't nearly enough. I'm starving! Hurry up and find me something else to eat."
Seeing how shaken her husband was, Zhao Hong's heart ached. She said timidly:
"But... we'll have to wait until tomorrow morning. Do a good job tomorrow, and there'll be food. Director Shang does keep his word."
Who would have thought her words would do nothing to soothe Ma Sanxiong's anger? Instead, he grabbed her by the hair. "Didn't you see them chop off my finger? Huh?! Are you hoping I'll die out there so you can join them like Shang Qian?"
His grip forced Zhao Hong's face upward, tears welling in her eyes. "Sanxiong, I'm not! Let go of me."
Ma Sanxiong shoved Zhao Hong away and sneered at his wife. "If you want to latch onto someone better, go ahead. Just bring food back and make sure I get