With a constant clattering sound, Niu San squatted among the crowd, clutching a large bowl and noisily slurping the porridge inside.
The millet and sorghum porridge was watery, mixed with wild vegetables, radish tops, and chunks of sweet potato and yam.
Even so, Niu San wept as he ate. It was just too fragrant; he had never tasted anything so delicious in his entire life.
After stretching out his tongue to lick the bowl clean, Niu San stepped out from the squatting crowd and timidly headed toward the gruel shed.
Though he was emaciated to an inhuman degree, his tall frame immediately drew the attention of the nearby village militia.
"What do you want? Stop right there!" several Niuxin Village militiamen ordered, their tone severe as they pointed their spears at Niu San.
They had no choice but to be strict. In truth, they were also afraid. Where had this band of refugees come from so suddenly?
