Chapter 1 Not for Sale
It's winter, the north wind is howling, and the snow is thick.
The sky and the earth are vast, and there are no traces of birds and animals.
Meng Yuan was holding a wooden stick in his hand. He could no longer remember how many days he had been fleeing. He only knew that many of his companions fell silently by the roadside.
Stepping on the snow, I don't know how long I walked, and I saw a low-walled courtyard beside the road ahead, which was an abandoned inn.
When I walked to the door of the inn and was about to go in for inspection, I saw a man with a scarred face running out, staring directly behind Meng Yuan with a greedy green light in his eyes.
This man was clearly hungry and had already tasted the same kind of food.
Behind Meng Yuan is a pair of grandfather and grandson. These two people walked together with Meng Yuan a few days ago, but they have never spoken to each other, and their names are unknown.
Under extreme hunger, people are unwilling to speak, and they don't even have the energy to think.
"Brother, it's none of your business. We only want the child." The scar-faced man licked his lips and said to Meng Yuan.
The baby's meat is tender and well cooked, and it doesn't cost much firewood to cook.
"Brother, I'm hungry! I'm so hungry that I can't help it!" Another man emerged from behind a big tree about ten steps away, holding a long stick in his hand, forming a double-team.
These two people obviously had a plan, but looking at them, they were indeed very hungry.
"Give me a piece of the pie." Meng Yuan was weak.
"Easy to say!" The scar-faced man agreed immediately, holding a broken wooden stick and going to arrest the person.
"Oh my God!" The old man protected his grandson behind him, then howled sadly, and rushed towards the scarred face. He ignored the blow from the wooden stick and just hugged the scarfaced waist tightly, "Child Run!”
Not afraid of the dead and invincible, for a moment, the scarred face was unable to do anything to the old man.
"Grandpa!" As soon as the thin child said something, it was a girl's voice. She didn't run away, but screamed at the top of her lungs to step forward to help.
"Go away!" Meng Yuan took two steps forward, holding a stick, and stood in front of the girl. When he looked back, he saw that the scarred face was young and strong after all. After a few twists, he rode on the old man and died with both hands. He strangled the old man's neck to death.
"Haha, I'm holding him down, hit him on the head quickly!" Scarface yelled at Meng Yuan crazily.
"Okay!" Meng Yuan saw the right moment and struck Scarface on the back of the head with a stick.
This blow used up almost all Meng Yuan's strength, making him dizzy and unsteady for a moment.
Scarface shook, then fell sideways.
His accomplice had already rushed forward, but Meng Yuan suddenly rebelled. He had a stick in his hand but no longer knew what to do, and his face was blank.
"Get out." Meng Yuan gasped for air, cursed at the man, and then stepped forward.
The world is difficult, this is the last kindness Meng Yuan can give. Killing Scarface was a trick, and he really didn't have the strength to kill the other person.
The grandfather and grandson hurriedly followed, but the remaining man did not dare to chase. He stumbled and crawled to the corpse of his companion. After crying twice, he couldn't help but lick his tongue, "Brother, you smell so good..."
Another half day passed, and Meng Yuan was almost exhausted, with only a breath of energy left to hold on.
"Eat." Seeing Meng Yuan walking slower and slower, the old man took out half a pancake from his arms.
Meng Yuan looked at the old man and saw that his beard was sparse and his cheeks were sunken. He was clearly on the verge of death.
"If I can't bear it anymore, please ask my little brother to take care of this child." The old man's lips were chapped, he forced an ugly smile, and begged: "Even if it doesn't work, don't let anyone eat it."
Meng Yuan took the cake, ignored the child's expectant gaze, and just swallowed it one bite at a time, sucking all the cake crumbs into his mouth. Then he grabbed a handful of snow, feeling that he had some strength, and then stepped forward.
Grandfather and grandson followed without saying a word.
At night, they found a ruined temple, lit a fire, and the three of them huddled together to rest.
After staying up until daybreak, and walking forward for a while, I saw a city wall at the end of the road ahead, clearly having a way out.
There are many low bungalows under the city wall, mixed with adobe bricks, which should be the residences of poor people who make a living nearby.
There is also a porridge shed, where six or seven government officials are serving people porridge. If any victims fight for it, they will be severely whipped.
Seeing that there was a way to survive, Meng Yuan and the old man looked at each other, both of them feeling like they had escaped.
If he had to endure it for another day or two, he would either die by the roadside or fall into a hot pot.
After waiting in line for a long time, each person received a bowl of porridge.
The rice porridge is like clear water, with only a few grains of millet floating around, and the light is discernible. But it was still hot, which was enough to survive.
"Refugees are like this. They just need to escape. We have many things to consider, such as providing disaster relief in the snow and preventing civil unrest." A police officer was chatting in a low voice next to him.
After one person only drank a bowl of porridge, he was not allowed to drink any more and was driven aside.
There is no such thing as work-for-relief; there is only withered grass on the head, waiting to be picked like livestock. There is a simple thatched house not far from the porridge shed, and a few people are recruiting refugees.
There were also several carriages, which were picked out by wealthy families themselves.
Poor people are most afraid of disasters, but rich families are happy with natural disasters, just because they can annex land at low prices and buy slaves at low prices.
"Young man, what are your plans?" The old man drank the hot porridge and gained some strength.
Meng Yuan shook his head.
The world is difficult and there are no skills at hand. Apart from selling oneself into slavery, is there any other way out? Or join the green forest? But there is no way!
Although he could read and calculate accounts, no one would want a refugee of unknown origin to be the accountant.
"There is always a way. It is better to be a slave than to freeze to death and starve to death." The old man sighed and said: "The old man's surname is Jiang, and we will take care of him from now on."
"Uncle Jiang," Meng Yuan responded and said, "My name is Meng Yuan."
The two of them were talking and were about to ask Mrs. Ya whether there was a way out when they saw a carriage coming out of the city.
Check out the 16-9 book bar and see the correct version!
A handsome and feminine young man jumped out of the carriage, his behavior was quite frivolous, his face seemed to be powdered, and when the cold wind blew, a cloying fragrance wafted over him.
A policeman came forward to please him, claiming that Yang was in charge.
This person should be a steward of a noble family.
Manager Yang held a stove in his hand and exchanged a few polite words with the policeman. The policeman then rang the gong and shouted loudly: "The Yang Mansion wants to recruit some bookboys. Anyone who is literate can come over!"
< br>
As soon as he said this, many victims with dry grass on their heads rushed up.
"Me, me, me! Master, I can read!" A middle-aged man with a beard came up to him.
"Get out of here!" Manager Yang kicked him up, raised his orchid finger and yelled, "Can't you understand human language? What I want is a book boy! Don't you see how old you are?"
Sure enough, no one dared to answer for a while.
Reading and reading is not an easy task. It is considered good for ordinary people to be able to read a few big characters. If you go to school since you were young, your family must be well-off.
Seeing that no one said anything, Manager Yang added, "It doesn't matter if you are illiterate. You have to choose the younger ones! Stand up straight and let me see! If you are selected, you will be popular!"
Meng Yuan looked at it coldly, always feeling that something was wrong, so he did not step forward.
Manager Yang, wearing a cloak, walked into the crowd of refugees and looked at each one. If he saw something he liked, he would pinch his arm, pat his butt, and look at his teeth.
It's not like picking a book boy, but like picking an animal.
Soon, the steward came to a young man, stretched out his hand to lift the young man's chin, looked at it, and said, "The frame is a bit big. What's your name? How old are you?"
"My name is Liu Dabao. I am sixteen years old this year. Master, I have been carrying excrement since I was a child. I am very strong and can work best!" the young man said flatteringly.
"I'm a little older, but I can do it." Manager Yang protected his nose, as if he hated the smell of the young man, and then nodded, "You seem to be quite smart, I'll count you in!"
Liu Dabao wiped away his tears, knowing that he would survive. He was about to kneel down to thank him, but saw someone holding him by the corner of his clothes.
The person pulling at the corner of his clothes was a dying old man sitting on the ground.
"What's wrong, uncle? I don't know you." Liu Dabao was confused.
"Young students," the old man put up his hands, closed his eyes, exhaled white air, and said: "This is not selling one's body, but selling one's life. You have to think more about it. At present, Songhe Prefecture has many chances to survive, and young people eat more. Don’t go astray despite the hardships.”
"What the hell are you talking about?" Before Liu Dabao could respond, Manager Yang became anxious, stepped forward and kicked the old man over, and said angrily: "What's wrong with selling ditches? Do you look down on those selling ditches?"< br>
"We can't live any longer. We didn't say we looked down on him. We just have to explain things clearly to the next generation. This is the rule." The old man fell on the ground, extremely weak, but he did not beg for mercy.
"You just look down on those who sell gouzi! You and I! Beat me up!" Manager Yang put one hand on his hips and raised the orchid finger on the other, and cursed angrily: "Why did Taizu of the previous dynasty retain his experience as a beggar? I tell you, that was the previous dynasty. Taizu was also selling gouzi before he became powerful! How dare you look down on those who sell gouzi? You have no place to sell!”
This manager’s words are categorical, and he is clearly the one who sells the job, so he thinks that everyone should sell the job like him!
The followers who followed all stepped forward and kicked the old man, seriously beating him to death.
The refugees who were watching were all numb and just stared blankly.
Soon, the old man made no sound. The policeman on the side pretended not to see him and started chatting with Manager Yang in a harmonious manner.
Hot blood flowed from the old man's head and face, melting into the broken snow, like a patch of fallen plum blossoms.
The world is difficult and demons are everywhere, but there are still people who cling to the last trace of conscience.
(End of chapter)