The old woman nimbly kicked off her shoes and climbed onto the kang, settling cross-legged at the head of the heated brick bed.

Only then did the old woman’s sons and daughters-in-law enter. Cheng Ying held the bowl, her eyes unblinking as she watched them file in.

Their appearances were far too uniform.

Cheng Ying touched her own face. This entire family possessed high cheekbones, each one looking like a slender bamboo pole—a genetic inheritance of the stick-thin physique. Well, at least they wouldn’t need to diet when they got older.

That wasn't the issue, though; none of these relatives wore even a hint of a smile. They all carried the air of people burdened by profound suffering.

If she hadn’t known that everyone in this village looked this way, Cheng Ying would have suspected a recent death in the family.

Why did the whole group look like they were attending a funeral?

It was her own mother who looked warm and familiar. “Yingzi, what’s wrong? Does your head still hurt?”

Cheng Ying thought her mother was wonderful. She remembered her condition; she actually cared. Cheng Ying shook her head at her own mother.

Her mother didn't hear Cheng Ying speak, her expression clouding with disappointment. She kept her head bowed low and didn't say anything further, standing silently at the far end of the table.

The old woman, seated at the kang's apex, fixed Cheng Ying’s mother with a look that immediately soured. "Hmph. Second daughter-in-law, bring Dun'er to me."

Cheng Ying's second aunt was still cradling a child, swaddled tightly in a small quilt.

The second aunt looked younger than Cheng Ying's own mother, her voice clear and crisp. "Dun'er, time to go to Grandma." Then the second aunt addressed her mother-in-law. "Mother, Dun'er wet his pants early this morning."

Cheng Ying watched her actual grandmother, in full view of this nest of young and old, undo the waistband of the padded cotton trousers. With one swift motion, she tucked the youngest child, Dun’er—clad only in a thin cotton top—inside her own trousers.

Cheng Ying’s jaw dropped. What in the world was this?

She had heard stories of the desperately poor stuffing their children into stove pits, but never of carrying their beloved babies tucked inside their trouser pockets.

The poverty must be so intense that the child only had one set of cotton trousers; if they got wet, there was nothing else to wear.

Before Cheng Ying could recover from her shock, the old woman grabbed a half-gourd ladle and handed it to the eldest aunt. "Eldest daughter-in-law, start serving the porridge."

Cheng Ying looked mournfully at the ladle used for serving the gruel. Fate! Even eating porridge required scooping it with a ladle.

Cheng Ying had eaten several meals here already, and serving porridge to the people at the table followed a strict hierarchy dictated by the old woman’s gaze. The children were served first, receiving only the thin foam skimmed from the top.

Cheng Ying watched the old woman suckle the little grandson hidden in her pocket, one spoonful at a time.

Cheng Ying realized that the grandmother she had just acknowledged had instantly become someone else’s. People were competitive, after all. She had only just managed to stand slightly taller than Chi Wu, who was rooted to the floor. Still, if the old woman tried to stuff her into a pocket for affection, she wouldn't stand for it.

Next came her own mother and the second son’s wife, followed by the eldest son’s wife. Only then was porridge ladled for the men, because the porridge at the bottom would invariably be thicker and stickier.

Cheng Ying looked at the porridge basin, so reflective she could see her own face in it, then at the thin portion in her mother’s bowl. With this meager amount, this whole family still had to work the fields. Where did they get the strength?

Serving porridge clearly had its own rules; she guessed the person who received their bowl last was the most cherished in the household, because by then, the porridge would certainly contain actual grains of rice.

Over a dozen people crammed onto one large kang, while three others—her father, her stepfather, and Chi Wu—stood on the ground. It was frustrating; the disparity in treatment was obvious.

After circling the table, nearly half of the enormous basin of porridge remained. Cheng Ying looked at the basin, relieved. Perhaps everyone would manage a bowl with some rice grains in it.

Cheng Ying’s hope was dashed. The standard was supposed to be two bowls per person, but when it came time for her stepfather to be served, the old woman coughed twice. The eldest aunt’s hand trembled slightly, and Cheng Ying’s stepfather received only half a ladle of porridge.

Cheng Ying lowered her gaze. This was oppression.

More than a dozen people surrounded the large table. In the center sat one bowl of bean paste and one bowl of pickles. The only sound was the slurping of porridge; not a single person spoke.

It was truly somber. Cheng Ying risked a glance and saw her new mother pour half of her own bowl’s porridge into her stepfather’s. She immediately glanced back at the old woman’s vertical, triangular eyes.

The sight made Cheng Ying tremble. She truly lacked the capability to challenge the old woman’s authority. That mouth of the old woman’s terrified Cheng Ying deeply.

After breakfast, the room that had been packed full moments before emptied out, leaving only the child the old woman had tucked into her pocket earlier, playing on the kang wrapped in a small quilt.

The morning passed this way. Cheng Ming called out to Cheng Ying. "Yingzi, want to go play with your brothers?"

Cheng Ying shook her head. It was too cold outside, and besides, could she really play with a bunch of rowdy kids?

Cheng Ming led his brothers out, and naturally, Chi Wu was not among them.

A little while later, the old woman returned, snugly wrapping Dun’er up again. She instructed Yingzi, "Grandma is going to the captain's house for a chat. You stay here and behave." Then the old woman left.

Only Chi Wu and Cheng Ying remained in the house. Chi Wu was outside washing dishes, tending the fire for the kang, and feeding the chickens. He wouldn't have a moment of rest until nearly ten o’clock.

Cheng Ying closed the door and immediately dove into her spatial dimension. She wondered how yesterday’s sheep’s wool had fared.

Cheng Ying stared at the puddle of water inside the space, her eyes fixed intently. This was the so-called filthy, stinking sheep’s wool she had thrown in yesterday.

She watched the fine, white strands of wool floating in the water, and an undeniable feeling of delight swelled in her chest. This was incredible. There hadn't been any detergent used. How had it become like this?

Cheng Ying reached in and pulled out a handful of wool. It was fine, white, and bright; it would be ready to use once dried. This space certainly lived up to its reputation for elegance; it was so effective.

Cheng Ying hauled the wool out and spread it across a piece of wood she had pulled into the space from her own room. She wondered if the space could dry the wool. On second thought, it seemed unreliable. She might as well dry it outside.

Cheng Ying wrung the water out of the wool, and while no one was home, she spread it out on the heated kang. This item could not be seen by others; it was destined to remain hidden.

Then Cheng Ying turned and re-entered the space. She looked at the water puddle; the water was clearer than before, and there was even more of it. This meant she must have uncovered a spring source.

Cheng Ying frowned, instantly regretting it. No matter how clear the water was, she wouldn't dare drink it after it had been used to soak wool.

She stared at the puddle with deep regret. If she had known it would have this effect, she wouldn’t have soaked any wool; she would have stripped naked herself and soaked in the pool for a while. Frowning darkly, she decided she would dig a new pit nearby later, specifically for her own drinking water.

Next, Cheng Ying buried the sweet potatoes, radishes, and cabbage she had brought in yesterday, along with one corn kernel she had painstakingly acquired. This kernel had been incredibly hard to get; in this era, every family kept such items locked away in cabinets. Cheng Ying had struggled immensely to take just one kernel from her grandmother’s cabinet.

Coincidentally, she brought in a broken ladle and sprinkled the wool-washing water onto the cabbage, radishes, and sweet potatoes. To Cheng Ying, this was purely an experiment, a sincere plea that a patch of cabbages, radishes, and sweet potatoes would sprout by tomorrow. These were the main supplementary foods to enrich their table. Once finished, Cheng Ying stepped out of the space.