Mo Hua licked his lips. His interest was suddenly piqued.
After going hungry for so long, he had finally caught a whiff of something delicious.
Without a word, he kept following the grandfather and grandson.
The two members of the Barbarian Tribe had no idea someone was following them. They walked on in silence, the old man offering the child scraps of advice along the way:
"When we get there, you must be respectful."
"This is your good fortune..."
"...It will benefit the tribe. If your father knew, he would be proud of you too..."
The child nodded without really understanding. A while later, he pressed a hand to his hollow stomach and said:
"Grandpa, I'm hungry."
The old man took out some coarse rations. Mo Hua could not tell what cheap grain they were made from; they were black and gray, dry and hard.
The child took the food, put it in his mouth, and chewed slowly.
The old man watched, his heart aching. Then, as though handling something precious, he took a strip of dried meat from his battered Storage Bag and handed it to the child.
The child's eyes lit up at the sight of the meat, but then he grew uneasy. "Grandpa, I... I'm full. I don't need it..."
The old man stroked his head and said hoarsely, "It's all right. Eat a little more today... Have something good."
The child was too young to understand. He tried to hold back, but his stomach was growling with hunger, and in the end he could not resist the dried meat. He accepted it and carefully put it in his mouth to chew.
He got to eat something this good only a few times a year, so he ate slowly.
Halfway through, he offered the rest of the