A daily intelligence report; in chaotic times and famine years, grain is plentiful.

Inside the Wang family mansion, the oil lamps illuminated the main room as brightly as day.

On the table was a glistening roast chicken, a plate of steaming braised fish, and a large pot of tender stewed pork knuckle. Compared to this, the few dishes of vegetables next to it seemed less important.

Wang Mang picked up a chicken leg, his mouth greasy from eating it, and mumbled, "Dad, I always feel like there's something wrong with that kid Chen Mo."

Wang Laoqi slowly picked up a piece of tender fish meat from the belly with his chopsticks, blew on it, and put it in his mouth.

"On New Year's Eve, which family doesn't prepare some food? They dig up some wild vegetables, mix in a slice of cured meat, and it still tastes like meat."

Wang Mang threw the bone on the ground, but even his yellow dog wouldn't come close to sniff it. Not only that, he lowered his voice and said, "That fellow Zhang San told me that today he smelled a genuine, very strong aroma of stewed meat at Chen Mo's house."

He paused for a moment, then continued, "By the way, Zhao Si saw it. Chen Mo went up the mountain with Sun Dazhu last night and didn't come back until dawn, carrying a bulging sack on his shoulder."

Wang Laoqi's chopsticks, which were holding meat, hovered in mid-air. He narrowed his cloudy old eyes, and a glint of light flashed before he disappeared.

"Sun Dazhu." He put down his chopsticks and tapped the table lightly with his fingers. "Old Man Sun, still haven't found him?"

"No. They just vanished into thin air."

Wang Laoqi fell silent, and the only sound in the room was the sound of Wang Mang eating. He stared at the lamplight.

"After spring arrives and the snow melts, take a few men and thoroughly search the back mountain for me."

Wang Mang was taken aback: "Father, why bother? It's normal for an old codger to freeze to death in some ravine."

"Idiot," Wang Laoqi called softly. "Old Man Sun is definitely hiding in the mountains. Chen Mo's family's food might be from a dubious source. It would be strange if a person who is about to starve to death had so many tricks up his sleeve. If he were really capable, those skills would have belonged to our Wang family long ago."

……

Inside the Chen family's small earthen house, the warm kang (heated brick bed) was a stark contrast to the howling cold wind outside.

After finishing their New Year's Eve dinner, Chen Mo took out a small pair of gloves from behind his back and handed them to his younger sister.

"New Year's gift".

The gloves were made from scraps of badger skin, and the stitching looked crooked, but they were stuffed with lots of soft cotton.

Chen Ling'er exclaimed "Wow!" and put it on with delight, her little hands curling up inside.

"Brother! It's so warm!" She pressed her gloved hands against her face, her eyes crinkling into crescent moons with laughter.

Chen Dashan also received a pair of socks. The socks were made of old cloth and stuffed with the cotton that Chen Mo had left over. They were thickly and tightly stitched. The old man held the socks, stroking the stitches, and remained silent for a long time.

When it was Chen Mo's turn, Chen Ling'er held a small cloth bag and stuffed it into his hands.

The cloth bag wasn't large, and the character "默" (silent) was embroidered crookedly with red string. The stitches were of varying sizes, showing that it had taken a lot of effort to make.

"Brother, this is for you." The little girl's face was flushed, and she was a little embarrassed.

Chen Mo held the small cloth bag tightly in his hand. The rough texture of the fabric and the affection it conveyed were warmer than anything else.

The three sat around the kang (a heated brick bed) to keep vigil for the New Year, and Chen Mo told them stories. He adapted the legend of the Nian beast that he had heard in his previous life into a strange tale of a remote mountain village fighting against the monster. Chen Ling'er listened with rapt attention, and even Chen Dashan listened with great interest.

at night.

In Chen Mo's mind, the mechanical voice rang out precisely on time:

[Daily information has been updated, please select:]

[First, five feet below the surface of the old well at the east end of the village, there are grain sacks left by villagers. The sacks contain about five pounds of bean seeds, which may have already sprouted. (Low risk, well water is deep and cold)]

[Second, on the south-facing slope of the back mountain, where the snow melts earlier, there are clumps of wild garlic sprouts underground, and about three kilograms can be harvested. (Medium risk, the ground is still frozen)]

[Three, on a cart abandoned by refugees thirty miles away, there is half a sack of bran and some broken farm tools. (High risk, long distance and possibility of being robbed)]

Bean seeds!

Chen Mo chose [Information 1] without hesitation.

Even if there's plenty of bran, it's gone once it's eaten. Wild garlic sprouts are only fresh for a short while.

Only seeds—that is the future! They are protein, they are oil, they are the hope that can truly sustain a family's life.

A picture immediately appeared clearly in his mind's eye: the bottom of the dark well, everything covered in silt, a tattered burlap sack half-buried inside, the mouth of the sack open, and round beans could be seen inside.

On the first day of the Lunar New Year, it was just getting light.

Chen Mo got up. The fire in the stove was flickering, and steam was rising from the pot.

He used precious sorghum flour as the wrapper, mixed chopped badger meat with leftover wild vegetables from the previous day as the filling, and made a pot of strangely shaped dumplings.

Although the skin is thick and the filling is small, it is still a dumpling.

Chen Ling'er ate ten in one go, her little belly was so full that it was round and bulging, and she happily rubbed her belly.

"Brother, I've never eaten anything so delicious before!"

Chen Dashan ate six pieces, then put down his chopsticks, his eyes a little red.

"Alright, alright." He looked at the two children, his voice trembling slightly. "This is the first time I've eaten dumplings since your mother passed away."

After the meal, Chen Mo carried a bucket out the door, saying he was going to the well to fetch water.

There was no one by the old well at the east end of the village, and the cold wind was biting.

He took out a long bamboo pole that he had prepared beforehand, with an iron hook tied to the end. Pretending to draw water, he extended the bamboo pole into the well and searched underwater, relying on the clear image in his mind.

The well water was cool and icy, and the iron hook stirred it underwater, making a soft clanging sound.

After a few tries, the hook seemed to have caught something quite heavy.

He exerted force with his arms and slowly lifted upwards.

A tattered, wet sack covered in mud was pulled out of the water.

Chen Mo quickly stuffed it into another prepared bag, pretended nothing had happened, filled half a bucket with water, and hurriedly went home.

He closed the courtyard gate and eagerly opened the sack.

The mixture of beans—soybeans, black beans, and mung beans—was mostly swollen from being soaked in water, and some even sprouted short, tender shoots.

But they are still alive.

Chen Mo's heart pounded; this was simply a priceless treasure!

Some of these beans can be sprouted immediately, and we'll soon be able to eat fresh vegetables. The rest are meant to be planted in the spring.

On the morning of the first day of the Lunar New Year, the atmosphere in the village was oppressive.

After a mournful cry, Li Laogen, along with several villagers who still had the strength, carried three stiff corpses out of a dilapidated house at the west end of the village.