The cries in the wind and rain never stopped, and for some reason, Jiang Tou'er did not try to stop them either.
Seeing that Jiang Tou'er had not spoken, the constables acted in perfect unison. They found spots out of the rain to sit, like spectators at a play, occasionally whispering and commenting amongst themselves.
Qi He stared at the wailing Meng clansmen, their mouths agape, and was utterly bewildered. After a long, stunned moment, he turned to Grandpa Meng with a mysterious look and asked, "Grandpa Meng, who made them all cry?"
Qi He was very curious. He couldn't understand why these people surnamed Meng were all crying. Adults and children alike wept, especially the men, who wailed with such ferocity, as if their parents had died.
He recalled a word their teacher in town had taught them: "like mourning a deceased parent."
Upon hearing Qi He's question, Meng Qingping's smile held a hint of embarrassment. He shook his head, feigning ignorance, and said he didn't know either.
In truth, he knew very well, but he was too ashamed to tell Qi He, as he himself was also surnamed Meng.
"..."
In Qi He's perception, Grandpa Meng was the most learned elder, even more so than the town's teacher.
Throughout their journey, whenever they stopped to rest, Grandpa Meng would tell them stories from the *Three Character Classic*. Things he had found boring in school were different when told by Grandpa Meng; he always listened with great interest.
"Alas," Qi He sighed, mimicking the adults when faced with difficulties. If Grandpa Meng didn't know, how could he possibly figure it out?
Meng Qingping: ...
The heavy rain continued to pour. A cold wind blew in through the dilapidated walls around them, causing Yu'er to shiver involuntarily.
"Are you cold, Yu'er?" Yu'er was nestled close to his grandfather, and even a slight tremble of his small body could be detected by Meng Qingping.
"Grandpa, Yu'er is cold," Yu'er said, looking up at his grandfather with a slightly wronged expression.
Hearing his grandson say he was cold, Meng Qingping lovingly opened his arms and pulled Yu'er into his embrace. He then spoke to him softly and kindly, "Yu'er, be good. It's not noon yet, and we didn't gather much firewood. It won't last long, so we need to save it for the night. Otherwise, the mountain nights are very cold, especially on nights with wind and rain; it will be even colder."
"Mm, Yu'er understands," Yu'er replied obediently, though he snuggled further into his grandfather's arms.
Fu Xinci overheard the conversation between her grandfather and Yu'er, and then looked at Ke'er, who was shrinking into a ball. A wave of frustration washed over her.
She had plenty of warm clothing in her spatial dimension, but she couldn't give it to her grandfather and Yu'er. It made her feel stifled.
Meanwhile, Jiang Tou'er felt it was time. He turned to the Meng clansmen, still weeping dramatically in the heavy rain, and said, "Alright, your large family has cried enough. Pack up and come over to start a fire and cook some gruel. And dry your clothes, lest you catch a chill, which is no trifling matter."
Jiang Tou'er had now decided to feed these prisoners cornmeal gruel every day from now on.
This way, it was easy to eat, saved grain, and tasted better than coarse buns.
The Meng clansmen, tired from crying in the rain, understood the hint when Jiang Tou'er spoke. No one objected and they all obediently walked inside.
However, their wet clothes clung uncomfortably to their bodies, and at the same time, they noticed that many places on the roof of the dilapidated temple were dripping water.
After another bout of hurried activity, it was an hour later when the aroma of gruel wafted out from the ruined mountain god temple.
Qi He was the first to bring back a basin of gruel. The Meng siblings were now accustomed to Qi He and the constables vying for food.
Luo'er and Ke'er were experiencing Qi Ge's capabilities for the first time. Their gazes of admiration followed Qi He like tiny flames.
Especially when each of them received more than half a bowl of gruel, the gratitude in their eyes almost drowned Qi He. They knew that before today, the food they ate was what their mother had painstakingly managed to acquire.
Especially Luo'er, who had such a selfish father who cared nothing for the lives of his wife and daughter.
Ke'er's father was very good to them and their mother, but that couldn't outweigh the bias of her paternal grandparents. Every day when food was distributed, their grandmother would reduce the portions for their family of three even further. For Ke'er to have a bowl of food was a testament to her grandmother's begrudging generosity.
Therefore, one could imagine the two children holding their wooden bowls, gazing in one direction, reluctant to eat, their hearts filled with concern for their mothers.
Qi He, experienced as he was, looked at the expressions of the two children. Before Grandpa Meng could speak, he repeated what Grandpa Meng had previously advised the Meng siblings. Then, he looked at Grandpa Meng with a hint of pride, as if to say, "I told you so, didn't I?"
"Young Qi is right. You two quickly eat your gruel, or someone might rush over and snatch it from you," Meng Qingping said, fearing that the children might be too slow and attract the attention of some unscrupulous relatives. He added, "Food is safest when it's in your stomach."
... Fu Xinci discovered today that her grandfather had a humorous side.
What Qi Ge and their second cousin grandfather said was too true, and Luo'er and Ke'er unhesitatingly picked up their wooden bowls and began to eat heartily.
Despite her young age, Ke'er ate just as quickly. By the time a boy of about seven or eight years old came looking for her, Ke'er's wooden bowl was already empty.
The boy huffed in disappointment, said nothing, and turned back.
Ke'er smiled gratefully at her second cousin grandfather and Qi Ge. She was glad she had listened; otherwise, her portion of gruel would have been snatched by her cousin.
Fu Xinci wasn't in the mood to watch the Meng clansmen devour their food. She only ate a small portion of gruel, giving the remaining half bowl to her grandfather.
She did not notice the covetous glints in the eyes of many Meng clansmen as they watched the wooden bowl being passed.
"Ci'er, you should eat more." Meng Qingping's gaze flickered towards the nearby constables as he said this, not mentioning that gruel wasn't very filling.
"Grandfather, I'm full. You eat," Fu Xinci said. Although she had plenty of food in her spatial dimension, their small group was constantly growing, and it was becoming increasingly difficult to secretly give food to her grandfather.
Alas, she needed to think carefully.
Although Meng Qingping understood that his granddaughter would not go hungry, he still didn't want her to constantly trouble that deity from a thousand years in the future.
After all, the thoughts of a deity were not something a mere mortal could control, and he did not want his granddaughter to suffer backlash.
Fu Xinci pretended not to notice her grandfather's reluctance and pressed the half bowl of gruel into his hand before turning away, arms crossed, and staring at the temple entrance.