Chu Yang explained the situation to him.
After Zhu Bajie heard it, his expression shifted from resistance to hesitation, then from hesitation to a strange excitement.
"Digging a well? I, Old Pig, am best at digging holes! Back when I was in Gao Village, I dug a well for my father-in-law's family. It was fast and deep—"
"Was the water in that well you dug at Gao Village sweet or bitter?" Sun Wukong asked.
Zhu Bajie froze for a moment. "Sweet... I think?"
"Then it'll do. You'll be the main worker tomorrow."
Zhu Bajie opened his mouth, wanting to say something. He looked at Chu Yang, then at Sun Wukong, and finally sighed as though resigning himself to fate.
"Fine, fine... Who asked I, Old Pig, to be so kindhearted..."
Tang Monk did not return to the inn until nightfall.
His complexion was even more haggard than it had been that morning. A whole day spent working at the porridge station, coupled with nonstop preaching, had drained all his energy. He sat by the table, slowly drinking a bowl of cold porridge, his gaze somewhat unfocused.
Chu Yang poured him a cup of water.
"Master, you've worked hard."
Tang Monk shook his head. "This poor monk has not worked hard. Those disaster victims are the ones suffering. There is too little this poor monk can do..."
He raised his head, deep helplessness in his eyes.
"Benefactor Chu, did you see the people lining up for porridge today? There were even more than yesterday. But there is less grain than yesterday. The village chief said grain prices in the neighboring counties have risen as well. Silver can buy less and less food."
"In another two or three days, the porridge station won't be able to keep going."
Chu Yang sat