xymnovel Chapter 5 Famine
Chapter 5 Famine
In the seventh year of the Chongzhen reign (1634), Ma Changsheng was seven years old.
That year's drought was unprecedented in a century. From the beginning of spring, not a drop of rain fell in the Hubei and Hunan regions.
The water level of the Ba River is dropping day by day, exposing the riverbed and cracking it with spiderweb-like fissures. The rice seedlings in the fields have withered and turned yellow before they even sprouted ears, and when the wind blows, the dry leaves rustle like the groans of a dying man.
The wells in Majia Village first dried up in May, and by June, even the deepest old wells were only filled with murky mud.
Every day, villagers line up in long queues, using wooden buckets to scoop up half a bucket of yellow water, which takes half a day to clarify before it can be barely made drinkable.
The shadow of famine spread like a plague.
Mr. Zhou's private school suspended classes in early June.
The old man stood at the entrance of the ancestral hall, looking at the cracked earth, and sighed, "When the times are not right, how can people live in peace?" He gave each child a small bag of fried rice—his last remaining food—before closing the hall and returning to his hometown.
Before leaving, he specifically sought out Ma Changsheng and handed him a handwritten copy of "Collected Annotations on the Analects": "Changsheng, the world is in hardship, but books should not be neglected. If peace comes in the future, I hope you can continue your studies."
Holding the book, Ma Changsheng felt the roughness of the paper and the slightly bitter scent of the ink.
He bowed to see the old man off, watching his hunched back disappear into the dusty village road.
When I got home that day, Ma Sanbao was squatting in the yard sharpening his hoe.
The hoe blade was already worn thin, but he kept sharpening it, as if the action could relieve his anxiety.
"The private school has stopped?" Ma Sanbao asked without looking up.
"Hmm." Ma Changsheng put the book down. "The master has returned to his hometown."
"It's good that you've stopped." Ma Sanbao finally stopped what he was doing, looked at his son, and said, "Changsheng, starting tomorrow, you'll come with me to work in the fields."
Li came out of the house, holding a broken earthenware jar in her hand: "What else can be harvested from the fields?"
"We're digging for wild vegetables and searching for grass roots," Ma Sanbao said hoarsely. "We can't just sit here and wait to die."
Ma Changsheng's "classroom" has moved from the ancestral hall to the fields.
His "textbooks" were no longer the Four Books and Five Classics, but various edible plants and insects, and how to find a glimmer of hope in barren land.
On the first day, Ma Sanbao took him to his own field.
What should have been lush green rice paddies are now a patch of grayish-yellow withered grass.
Ma Sanbao used a hoe to turn over the hard, dry clods of soil, occasionally digging out a few wild sweet potatoes as thin as fingers.
"This is wild kudzu root. It's edible, but eating too much can cause bloating." Ma Sanbao handed a root covered in soil to his son. "Remember what it looks like. The leaves are heart-shaped, and the vines have fine hairs."
Ma Changsheng took it and examined it carefully.
The plant recognition module deep within the consciousness is automatically activated:
Species: Wild kudzu
Edible parts: tubers, tender leaves, flowers
Nutritional value: Moderate starch content, contains isoflavones.
Toxicity: Low, but excessive consumption of raw food may cause indigestion.
Recommendation: Cook thoroughly or make into kudzu root powder before consumption.
"Dad, this will take a long time to cook before we can eat it," Ma Changsheng said. "Otherwise, it will give us a stomachache."
Ma Sanbao looked at him in surprise: "How did you know?"
Ma Changsheng paused for a moment: "I heard about it from the old people in the village before."
This was, of course, a lie. But Ma Sanbao didn't investigate further—in times of famine, survival was the most important thing; the source of knowledge was irrelevant.
In the days that followed, Ma Changsheng demonstrated an amazing ability to survive and learn.
He could quickly identify dozens of edible plants: purslane, dandelion, shepherd's purse, lamb's quarters... and even some plants that are usually considered poisonous, he could point out how to eat them after special treatment.
Once, they encountered a patch of wild mushrooms.
Ma Sanbao was about to walk around it—there was common knowledge in the village that "brightly colored mushrooms are poisonous." But after observing carefully, Ma Changsheng said, "Dad, these are edible."
It was a cluster of grayish-brown mushrooms with a net-like pattern on their caps.
"Are you sure?" Ma Sanbao hesitated. "What if it's poisonous..."
"Confirmed," Ma Changsheng said. "This is called porcini mushroom. It's non-toxic and tastes delicious. But it needs to be cooked thoroughly."
He was so certain because the consciousness database contained a complete atlas of fungi. But he only said, "I saw the illustrations in Mr. [Name]'s book."
Ma Sanbao collected some samples with some skepticism.
After cooking it at home, Li took a bite first. After waiting for half an hour without any reaction, the whole family dared to eat it.
That was indeed a non-toxic delicacy—a true delicacy during a famine.
The news spread, and villagers flocked to ask for advice. Ma
Changsheng became the village's "little teacher," teaching everyone to identify edible wild animals.
Every word he said concerned life and death, so no one questioned why a seven-year-old child knew so much.
Only Ma Changsheng himself knew that every "teaching" session was draining his mental energy.
The seeds of consciousness need to constantly suppress advanced knowledge, releasing only the portion that aligns with the cognitive level of this era.
It's like scooping water from the ocean with a strainer—not too much, not too little.
Survival Skills Module Activation Rate: 35%
Application of botanical knowledge: Restricted release (controlled within the scope of "folk wisdom")
Side effects: Frequent headaches, vivid dreams, often featuring plant classification atlases.
Warning: Continued high-load operation may accelerate the risk of consciousness leakage.
In July, the situation worsened further.
Wild vegetables have been dug up, grass roots have been stripped bare, and even tree bark has become a hot commodity.
The elm, willow, and locust trees surrounding Majia Village have had their lower trunks stripped bare, revealing a stark white wood layer.
Ma Sanbao took his son to a more remote mountain forest.
There are still some trees there that haven't been stripped of their bark, but the journey is long and one must be careful of wild animals—famine has driven even the wolves down the mountain.
One evening, as they were carrying a bundle of elm bark home, they encountered Tiezhu's family.
Tie Zhu's younger sister, Xiao Ya, was too hungry to walk and was being carried on her mother's back.
The little girl had frighteningly large eyes, sunken cheeks, and weak breathing.
"Brother Sanbao..." Tie Zhu's father's voice was hoarse, "Is there any food left? Lend me a bite, and I'll pay you back double next year..."
Ma Sanbao looked at the tree bark on his back, then at the dying child, paused for a moment, then took off half of it and handed it over: "Boil it until it's soft, change the water several times to remove the bitterness."
Tie Zhu's father knelt down with a thud, kowtowed, and staggered away while clutching the tree bark.
Ma Changsheng watched their retreating figures, a tightness gripping his chest. His consciousness journal calmly recorded:
Observations revealed a typical late-stage symptom of famine: protein-energy malnutrition.
Predicted mortality rate: Without nutritional supplementation, the child's survival rate is less than 30%.
Intervention methods: None (under current conditions)
Emotional reactions: feelings of powerlessness, guilt, and a deeper understanding of the fragility of life.
That night, Ma Changsheng had a dream.
In his dream, he wasn't a seven-year-old child, but rather the collective consciousness of the Europa base. Billions of clones were well-nourished, the life support system functioned perfectly, and death only resulted from accidental attrition. He had never truly understood what "hunger" was—until now.
When I woke up, my pillow was wet.
Mrs. Li touched his forehead: "Did you have a nightmare?"
Ma Changsheng shook his head, then suddenly asked, "Mother, why is there a famine?"
Li was stunned, and after a long while she said, "Heaven doesn't grant us food."
"Is it just because of God?" Ma Changsheng pressed. "I heard that the northern court is at war and has increased taxes a lot. Have we paid off all our grain in taxes?"
Li quickly covered his mouth: "You can't say such things!" She glanced nervously out the window and lowered her voice, "We common people shouldn't discuss matters of the court."
But Ma Changsheng had pieced together a rough picture from the fragmented information his father brought back: In order to suppress peasant uprisings and the invasion of the Later Jin, the imperial court levied three additional taxes (Liaodong tax, suppression tax, and training tax), and the tax burden had increased several times compared to the Wanli era.
Despite years of natural disasters, the government's demands for taxation have not diminished at all, and have even intensified.
In early August, something even more terrifying appeared: Guanyin clay.
It was discovered by an old bachelor at the west end of the village—a grayish-white clay that could be mixed with water and kneaded into balls, which had a filling effect when eaten.
As soon as the news broke, desperate villagers flocked to the scene and dug up large chunks of soil.
Ma Sanbao also dug up a basketful. Looking at the grayish-white clods of soil, Li's hands trembled: "This...this is really edible?"
"It's better than starving to death," Ma Sanbao said.
Ma Changsheng stopped him: "Dad, you can't eat this."
"Why? Because everyone in the village ate it."
"Eating it will cause bloating, constipation, and eventually..." Ma Changsheng searched for explanations that fit his age, "...and eventually his stomach will burst."
This is not an exaggeration.
The main component of Guanyin clay is kaolinite, which the human body cannot digest. It will accumulate in the intestines, leading to severe intestinal obstruction and malnutrition, and ultimately death.
Ma Sanbao hesitated.
But seeing his son, who was so hungry he couldn't even cry, he gritted his teeth and said, "Eat a little less, he should be fine."
That evening, Li mixed the last bit of wild vegetables with kaolin clay and cooked a pot of porridge. Ma Changsheng ate two bites and then put down his bowl.
"Why aren't you eating?" Ma Sanbao asked.
"I'm not hungry," Ma Changsheng said. In reality, his mind was frantically calculating:
Intake: Approximately 30 grams. Estimated transit time: 5-7 days. Risk: Low (small amount per serving), but absolutely not for long-term consumption.
He couldn't tell the truth, so he could only protect his family in his own way: "Dad, Mom, don't eat too much. I'll look again tomorrow; there's bound to be other food."
At night, Ma Changsheng secretly got up and poured the remaining Guanyin clay into the latrine.
The fifteenth of August should be the Mid-Autumn Festival.
There were no mooncakes, no reunion dinner, only hunger and death.
People started starving to death in the village.
The first to pass away were the elderly and children—Tiezhu's younger sister, Xiaoya, died on August 12.
The child kept shouting "Hungry" before he died, but eventually he didn't have the strength to shout anymore. He just stared at the leaky roof with empty eyes.
Next up is Old Man Ma from the east end of the village.
The clan chief lived to be seventy-three years old, experiencing the reigns of five emperors: Jiajing, Wanli, Taichang, Tianqi, and Chongzhen. Ultimately, he did not survive the autumn.
He died emaciated, skin and bones, still clutching half a piece of tree bark in his hand.
Death brought a new fear: plague.
Famine weakened people's resistance, and improper handling of corpses led to the spread of disease.
First came dysentery, then typhoid fever.
The only person in the village who knew a little about medicine, Granny Chen, also fell ill. She had already used up all the medicinal herbs and could only rely on folk remedies to get through the illness.
Ma Sanbao strictly forbade Ma Changsheng from going out.
They hid their last remaining grain—half a bag of moldy brown rice—in a hidden compartment under the stove, cooking only a small handful each day, mixing it with wild vegetables to make a thin soup.
But the epidemic still found its way to us.
On the third day of the ninth lunar month, Li started to have a fever.
At first, I thought it was just a cold, but soon I developed diarrhea and a rash.
Ma Sanbao panicked and wanted to go to the county town to fetch a doctor, but Ma Changsheng stopped him.
"Father, going to the county town now and back will take two days. And the doctor might not even be willing to come." Ma Changsheng was calmer than a seven-year-old child. "I have a way."
He searched the consciousness database:
Disease symptoms: fever, diarrhea, roseola... Suspected: typhoid fever
Treatment options in the 17th century were limited. Primarily relying on supportive therapy and some herbal remedies.
Available local resources: honeysuckle (for clearing heat and detoxifying), coptis (for antibacterial purposes), kudzu root (for relieving fever)...
Ma Changsheng said to his father, "I know a few herbs that should grow in the back mountain. Dad, you stay home and take care of Mom, I'll go and gather them."
"No! You're just a child..."
"I know the way, and I know the herbs," Ma Changsheng said firmly. "This is the only way now."
Ma Sanbao looked at him and suddenly realized that his son had grown much taller without him noticing, and there was a composure in his eyes that was beyond his years.
This discovery brought him both joy and sorrow—chaotic times age people prematurely, even children are forced to mature early.
Ma Changsheng carried a small bamboo basket into the mountain.
He walked quickly, his sharp gaze sweeping across the jungle.
The plant positioning system in consciousness is operating efficiently:
50 meters ahead, on the shady side of the slope: a possible honeysuckle grove.
Turn right, by the stream: there might be wild Coptis chinensis.
Warning: Excessive physical exertion; heart rate has reached the warning level.
He gritted his teeth and continued forward.
His fingers were cut by thorns, and his knees slammed against stones, but he seemed oblivious to the pain. He had only one thought: to save his mother.
After gathering enough herbs, Ma Changsheng hurried down the mountain. On the way, he saw a scene: several crows were surrounding a corpse—it was impossible to identify who it was, only the skeleton and tattered clothes remained.
The death toll continues to rise.
Social order is on the verge of collapse.
Prediction: If the famine continues, cannibalism may occur within three months.
Ma Changsheng quickened his pace.
Back home, he carefully processed the herbs according to the recipe in the database: boiled honeysuckle in water, ground coptis chinensis into powder, and sliced kudzu root.
Then he stayed by his mother's bedside, feeding her medicine spoonful by spoonful.
In her unconscious state, Li murmured, "Chang Sheng...study hard...pass the imperial examinations..."
Ma Changsheng held his mother's hand tightly: "Mother, you'll be alright. I promise."
For those three days and three nights, Ma Changsheng barely slept a wink.
He monitored his mother's temperature and pulse, adjusted her medication, and wiped her body to cool her down.
Ma Sanbao watched his son's skillful movements, his mind filled with doubts, but saving lives was the priority at the moment, and he had no time to ask any more questions.
On the morning of the fourth day, Li's high fever finally subsided. She weakly opened her eyes and saw her son sleeping by the bedside, his little hand still holding hers.
"Chang Sheng..." she whispered.
Ma Changsheng woke up with a start. Seeing his mother awake, his tense little face finally broke into a smile: "Mom, you're awake!"
Mrs. Li touched her son's face and noticed that he had lost weight, his eyes were sunken, and his hands were covered in wounds. Tears welled up in her eyes: "You've suffered so much..."
"It's not bitter." Ma Changsheng shook his head. "It won't be bitter anymore once Mother is better."
At the end of September, it finally rained.
It wasn't a light drizzle, but a torrential downpour that lasted for three whole days.
The cracked earth greedily absorbed the rainwater, and the Ba River flowed again.
After the rain stopped, a few wild vegetable sprouts appeared in the field—those seeds buried deep in the dry soil finally had a chance to grow.
At the same time, the government's relief grain arrived. Although the quantity was pitifully small, with each person receiving only half a bushel of stale rice, and it was subject to deductions at every level, it was still grain after all.
Majia Village survived, but at a heavy price: of the 67 households in the village, 31 people starved to death, 23 died of disease, and 7 households fled the famine and their whereabouts are unknown.
The village, which originally had more than 200 people, now has only about 100 left.
In October, Mr. Zhou returned.
The old gentleman had also lost a lot of weight, but his eyes were still bright.
He reopened the private school, but half the number of children came to study—some starved to death, and some fled with their families to escape famine.
The ancestral hall was empty.
Tiezhu is still alive, but his father is dead, his mother remarried, and he became an orphan, making a living by herding cattle for wealthy families in the village. He can no longer go to school.
Mr. Zhou looked at the few students below the classroom, sighed deeply, and began his lecture. That day, he taught a passage from Mencius: "When Heaven is about to place a great responsibility on a person, it first tests their will, strains their muscles and bones, and starves their body..."
Ma Changsheng listened attentively.
He gained a new understanding of these sentences—they were no longer just word games, but a bloody reality.
After class, Mr. Zhou kept him behind: "Changsheng, have you neglected your studies these past few months?"
Ma Changsheng pulled out the copy of "Collected Annotations on the Analects" from his pocket—the pages were somewhat stained, but it was well-preserved: "Sir, I read it every day."
"Can you understand it?"
"I understand some things, but not others."
Mr. Zhou turned to a page: "'A gentleman does not seek to be full when he eats, nor does he seek comfort when he dwells'—do you understand this saying now?"
Ma Changsheng was silent for a moment: "Sir, you only realize how important it is to be full when you've been hungry. But you also realize that some things are more important than being full when you've been hungry."
Mr. Zhou looked at him intently: "For example?"
"For example, when my mother was sick, I would rather go hungry myself than not gather herbs to save her," Ma Changsheng said. "For example, when Tiezhu's father knelt down and begged for a piece of tree bark, my father gave him half of it."
The old man's eyes welled up with tears.
He patted Ma Changsheng on the shoulder: "Changsheng, you've grown up. Not in age, but here you've grown." He pointed to his heart.
On his way home that day, Ma Changsheng encountered Tiezhu.
The once robust boy is now as thin as a bamboo pole, leading an equally emaciated old ox.
"Chang Sheng," Tie Zhu called him softly, "Still studying?"
"Yes." Ma Changsheng nodded. "And you?"
"Herding cattle." Tie Zhu tugged at the rope in his hand. "The boss said that if I do a good job, I'll get a peck of rice at the end of the year."
The two stared at each other in silence.
The friends who once recited the Three Character Classic together in the private school have now gone down completely different paths.
At the crossroads of famine, fate pushed them in different directions.
"Chang Sheng," Tie Zhu suddenly said, "You're smart, study hard. In the future... if you become a high-ranking official, don't forget us."
Ma Changsheng nodded solemnly: "I will not forget."
Tie Zhu grinned, revealing a missing front tooth—it was knocked out when he fell and fainted from hunger.
He led the cow slowly away, his shadow stretching long in the setting sun.
The famine has passed, but Ma Changsheng paid an unseen price.
That night, he had a strange dream. In the dream, he was no longer the seven-year-old Ma Changsheng, but the collective consciousness of the Europa base. Billions of clones simultaneously looked up at the starry sky.
In the starry sky, the sun is collapsing into a black hole, and his consciousness is being sucked into it...
"Ah!" Ma Changsheng woke up with a start, his shirt soaked with cold sweat.
Hearing the noise, Li came in: "What's wrong? Did you have a nightmare?"
"Hmm." Ma Changsheng panted, "I dreamt... that stars fell down."
Li hugged him and said, "Don't be afraid, don't be afraid, dreams are always the opposite of reality."
But Ma Changsheng knew that it was no ordinary dream.
Those were sealed fragments of memory that leaked out because the suppression mechanism briefly loosened due to the prolonged high-intensity operation of consciousness during the famine.
He checked the state of consciousness:
Overall awareness level: 0.15% (an increase of 0.04% compared to before the famine)
Leakage incident log: 3 leaks of dream fragments, 1 brief flashback during the day.
Risk assessment: Low (the leaked content is perceived as a "strange dream" by the recipient) but caution is advised.
Recommendation: Resume a normal daily routine and reduce the intensity of conscious activity.
The next day, Ma Changsheng drew a strange pattern on the open ground behind the ancestral hall with a twig: a large circle surrounded by several smaller circles connected by lines.
Tie Zhu passed by and saw it, asking curiously, "Chang Sheng, what are you drawing?"
Ma Changsheng looked at the pattern on the ground—a diagram of the solar system, which he had drawn unconsciously. He quickly wiped it away with his foot: "Just a scribble."
"It looks like a big pancake, with several smaller pancakes around it," Tie Zhu said. "I'm hungry."
Both of them laughed, but Ma Changsheng felt a tightness in his heart.
He knew he had to be more careful.
Before full awareness is awakened, any premature disclosure of knowledge may be dangerous—not to the individual, but to the unpredictable impact on the course of history.
After school that day, Ma Changsheng went to the back mountain. He found a flat rock and carved words on it with a sharp stone.
It wasn't Chinese characters, but a strange set of symbols—a coded language he created to record things that couldn't be written down:
In the seventh year of the Chongzhen Emperor's reign, a great famine struck, killing more than half the population.
My mother fell ill with typhoid fever, and I gathered herbs to cure her. I feel guilty that Tiezhu had to drop out of school.
Consciousness has leaked three times; stronger control is needed. Approximately nineteen years until awakening.
Goals: Survive, read, observe, wait.
After he finished carving, he turned the stone slab over and hid it deep in the grass.
This is his secret diary, which only his future self can fully decipher.
As we descended the mountain, the setting sun bathed the mountains in gold.
The Ba River flows slowly, and new green grass sprouts on the banks.
Wisps of smoke rose from the village—though it was still just thin porridge and wild vegetables, it at least had the warmth of human cooking.
Ma Changsheng stood on the hillside, looking at the world he had lived in for seven years.
The famine left a deep mark: barren fields, newly added graves, and the lingering fear in people's eyes.
But he also saw resilience: survivors were replanting late rice, women were washing clothes by the river, and children were playing in the open space—this is the instinct of life; even after a catastrophe, one must still strive to survive.
Log update:
The famine has ended. The survival skills module activation rate has increased to 42%.
Deepening social cognition: Understanding concepts such as poverty, death, and class stratification
The Emotion module now includes the following data: Family Affection, Friendship, Compassion, and Sense of Responsibility.
Current age: 7 years and 3 months
Physical development: Delayed due to malnutrition, requiring enhanced nutritional supplementation.
Next stage: Resume studies and prepare for the preliminary imperial examination (Children's Examination).
Ma Changsheng took a deep breath and walked towards the village.
He knew that famine was just the first lesson of this era.
More challenges lie ahead: war, dynastic changes, and the clash of civilizations...
And he, this consciousness from the future, will experience all of this within this body.
It's not about changing history—at least not now.
It is simply to understand how humanity finds meaning in suffering, how civilization is rebuilt from ruins, and how individuals maintain themselves amidst the torrent of change.
Back home, Li was cooking porridge.
The pot emitted a rare aroma of rice—it was leftover from the government's relief grain, specially prepared to nourish my son's body.
"Chang Sheng, wash your hands and eat," Li said gently.
Ma Sanbao came out of the house, holding a tattered almanac in his hand: "I checked the date; the eighth day of next month is auspicious for starting school. Changsheng, it's time to go back to the private school."
Ma Changsheng nodded and sat down at the table.
Under the dim light of the oil lamp, the shadows of a family of three were cast on the wall, swaying with the firelight.
The porridge was thin, but it was very warm.
Outside the window, the autumn insects began to chirp again.
This time, their cries contained no despair, only the tenacity to continue their lives.
After finishing the last mouthful of porridge, Ma Changsheng said softly, "Father, Mother, I will study hard."
It wasn't for fame or fortune.
It was for those who starved to death, for those like Tiezhu who lost their education, and for this civilization that struggled through hardship yet persevered.
Also for that version of myself waiting to awaken in the distant future.