Chapter 14
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Chapter 14: No matter if it was \"undress,\" \"look at my stomach,\" or \"touch me\"… they were all better than \"eggs.\"
Two nights before their exile, they had stayed at a post station. The prisoners slept in stables and messy rooms, while the guards enjoyed high beds and warm pillows. Out of sight meant no resentment, so peace prevailed. But tonight was different.
Tied to trees, prisoners ate bread or loaves with water while watching guards toss vegetables and meat into two large pots over a fire nearby. Soon the soup boiled, and oily, savory steam drifted downwind, assaulting prisoners\’ faces and battering stomachs barely filled by coarse food.
Faint rustling came first near the trees where two donkey carts stood. The Kong family\’s eldest son approached his father\’s tree and whispered, \"Father, give us one more loaf per person. The children haven\’t eaten their fill for days.\"
Kong Er, the second son, leaned closer too. \"Yes, Father. We bought grain—no reason to starve like before. Didn’t you buy meat and pickles? Forget raw meat, but share pickles for our bread. Without salt, food tastes bland and gives no strength.\"
\"Eat, eat, eat! One silver tael per loaf, yet you want endless feasts?\" Kong Fangqiu smelled the guards\’ cooking, his own hunger gnawing. But money couldn’t be wasted recklessly—this exile journey had only begun its third day!
\"Today’s bread was soft as cotton, delicious… yet one loaf vanishes like nothing,\" the eldest son sighed weakly, avoiding argument.
Kong Fangqiu stayed silent. The bread truly surpassed yesterday’s sample. That morning, even he—a man who’d tasted countless delicacies—had been impressed. But his rumbling stomach soon revealed its emptiness. He’d thought giving three days of bread and seven days of flour was torture, yet now flour seemed better. Unless… the flour amount matched only what those deceptive loaves required?
While Kong Fangqiu brooded, Kong Er spoke boldly. \"Father, you’re mistaken. My son and I ate mixed-flour loaves, not one-silver white ones.\" He knocked the donkey cart. \"Two loaves daily for non-workers, two for me driving this cart—it’s useless!\"
\"Are you accusing me of idleness? Or threatening me?\" Kong Fangqiu’s eyes narrowed angrily.
\"Never! Just hungry.\" Kong Er waved dismissively, grinning. \"Besides, my wife ran off—saving you money. Shouldn’t that silver buy extra bites for me and my son?\"
\"Hmph! Your wife refused hardship—that’s your affair. Your brother’s wife stays loyal. No extra loaves. If hungry, beg guards for last night’s black bread loaves.\" Kong Fangqiu knew he must stay firm now, or lose authority so early in this journey.
His last words were spiteful—even dogs rejected yesterday’s loaves. Yet Kong Er stood and shouted for guards before Kong Fangqiu could stop him.
Fuming, Kong Fangqiu watched his foolish son declare to guards: \"Our bought grain differs from official rations! Our family deserves nineteen black bread loaves… no, thirty-eight including this morning’s portion…\"
The summoned guard happened to be Cui Wu, their group’s second-most troublesome member. After hearing Kong Er, Cui Wu smirked at Kong Fangqiu. \"Master Kong, is this your wish?\"
Kong Fangqiu froze.
\"Remember,\" Cui Wu added, \"your discounted bread and ingredients came from converting your official rations. Want black bread loaves? Fine. But past and future purchases lose discounts.\" Cui Wu needed no consultation with Tan Wang. After Sanqiao Post Station’s resupply, retrieving silver from Tan Wang’s pockets was impossible.
Kong Fangqiu rose, hoping to test waters through his son’s rashness. He slapped Kong Er, then addressed Cui Wu politely. \"My son rambles nonsense. Apologies for troubling you.\"
Cui Wu sneered, clasped his hands behind his back, and left.
Alone, Kong Fangqiu tore open a donkey-cart bundle and hurled a mixed-flour loaf at Kong Er’s face. \"Eat! Trouble-maker, feast on this!\"
Earlier, he hadn’t grasped Kong Er’s scheme. But after the slap and guard’s departure, Kong Er’s silence exposed it: this wasn’t about black bread loaves, but flaunting his troublemaking power!
\"I still have a son,\" Kong Er rubbed his stinging cheek, reaching out again.
\"Father, I…\" The eldest son hesitated, nudged forward by his wife.
Kong Fangqiu said nothing.
His own fault! That morning’s cloud-soft bread had enchanted him. By not questioning portion sizes immediately, he’d lost all recourse.
Laughable—he who once schemed for greed now fell victim to it.
Damned greedy guards! Damned Sanqiao Post Station, skimming flour despite his three hundred taels! One tael could buy a hundred jin of flour—was pinching crumbs fun?
Unbeknownst to others, Aunt Tian at Sanqiao Post Station found it delightful.
Though she hated Kong Fangqiu for Fengzhou’s suffering, she couldn’t poison him—not even risk laxatives. Swapping rice for flour? Perfect.
While Kong Fangqiu flung mixed-flour loaves at descendants, the very \"stolen flour\" he cursed lay nearby under a boulder-shadowed tree.
Wrapped snugly in a flour-quilt, Du Yinsui rested peacefully. Though rich meat aromas thickened the air, she fixated on the spoiled eggs in her arms.
Du Yinsui prided herself on practicality. Unlike the guards’ unreachable feast, these eggs—meant for Jiang Wu—offered real hope. Spoiled now, they belonged solely to her. Heh.
But a problem arose: she hadn’t known she could speak!
Nor expected… only two words.
As Jiang Wu babbled endlessly—\"Wake up, and I’ll find you eggs,\" \"Live properly, and every egg I find is yours\"—her soul sighed. It echoed yesterday’s life-pleading mantra when she first arrived.
Had she known her precious chance offered just two words, \"eggs\" wouldn’t have been her choice.
\"Undress,\" \"look at my stomach,\" or \"touch me\"… any beat \"eggs.\"
Soup boiled. Soup cooked. Soup vanished.
As food disappeared, so did its fragrance.
Night deepened.
Admittedly, this open riverbank chilled far more than crowded stables or moldy storerooms.
Sleepless, Du Yinsui noted distant breathing. Perhaps \"I’m cold\" would’ve been wiser. Why did Jiang Wu sleep so far? Wind howled here!
Past words couldn’t be changed. Now, future ones mattered.
That night, tree spacing prevented any kind soul offering moldy porridge. Yet by dawn, when Jiang Wu lifted her for water, she’d mustered two more words.
Chu Xiulan, having freed her ankle chain, approached. Bending, she stared. \"Did Du girl just speak?\"
\"Seemed so…\" Jiang Wu sounded dazed.
\"What’d she say? I missed it.\" Chu Xiulan touched her ear.
\"Don’t throw…\" Jiang Wu mumbled.
\"Ah, I heard that! But why \’don’t throw\’?\" Chu Xiulan bent lower, frowning as she reached out. \"Her face looks flushed. Forehead feels warm too…\"
