Chapter 42 Settling Down

Catching his breath, Zhao Mu looked at Huang Wan and gave her a thumbs-up.

"Miss Huang, you were so witty just now. We owe it all to you!"

Though bound inside a tattered straw mat, he could still hear the conversation outside. Had it not been for Huang Wan's heart-wrenching wails, those refugees would not have retreated so quickly.

Their previous plan had been sound, yet it underestimated the human heart. Especially in troubled times such as this, when countless people starved to death every day!

Every morning upon waking, the very first thing everyone had to do was struggle for mere survival! Much like when Zhao Mu had first transmigrated—those people with sallow eyes had done everything solely to stay alive!

Perhaps some might wonder: since Zhao Mu was able to catch fish, why couldn't others? Even if people died trying to fish every single day, they could still try angling.

Yet to fish, one needed at least a fishhook, a fishing line, and a rod—items that were relatively difficult to obtain. One could easily pick up a branch for a rod, use sewing thread for the line, and bend a sewing needle into a hook.

But what about the bait?

Under the circumstances back then, people had even stripped the bark off trees and devoured grass roots, let alone grain. As for earthworms—which Zhao Mu used most frequently in his past life—they had long since ended up on the plates of countless refugees. Consequently, fishing as he had in his former life was simply impossible.

Most people figured that even if they attempted to fish, there was no guarantee of success. Not only was it time-consuming and exhausting, but it also wasted valuable energy. Given that, they might as well just eat whatever little they had directly, buying themselves a little more time to scrape by.

Hearing Zhao Mu's praise, Huang Wan lowered her head with a slight blush.

Just as Zhao Mu was about to speak again, little Xing'er suddenly piped up: "And me! And me! I cried really well too."

Everyone burst into laughter. Zhao Mu stepped forward, patted Xing'er on the head, and said, "Ah, yes, Xing'er's acting was wonderful too. You could practically win an Oscar for that."

Having left the county town, though the road ahead was uncertain, their spirits were high. In his distraction, Zhao Mu let the word "Oscar" slip.

Xing'er looked puzzled and asked, "What is an Oscar?"

Zhao Mu paused, pondered for a moment, and replied, "It's a very powerful and prestigious thing. Once you get it, you never have to worry about going hungry again."

Xing'er immediately shouted, "I want to get an Oscar! I want to be full every single day!"

She did not notice that the moment she finished those words, the expressions of everyone around her grew noticeably dim.

A full stomach—something so utterly trivial in Zhao Mu's past life—was an unattainable luxury that many people in this world could never hope to achieve in a lifetime.

Take Wang Wu and Wen Zhi and the others; though they had left the city and no longer needed to worry about finding a livelihood, they still dared not guarantee that they would never go hungry again from this day forward.

Though young, Xing'er had experienced so much that she had long since learned to read people's expressions. Seeing the look on everyone's faces, she hurriedly amended, "Xing'er knows she was wrong. Xing'er doesn't need to be full every day—as long as I have something to eat every few days, that's enough."

Hearing this, a pang of heartache struck Zhao Mu. In his world, children Xing'er's age were the darlings of their families, waited on hand and foot. They would turn their noses up at this and refuse that, eating only what they fancied, with grandmothers often chasing after them just to feed a single spoonful.

Yet Xing'er's highest dream was simply to have something to eat every few days.

"Little Xing'er, do you trust Brother Mu?"

Zhao Mu patted Xing'er's head and said with sincere earnestness, "Brother Mu promises you, starting today, I will never let you go hungry again. Whenever you are hungry, you can have a full meal!"

Xing'er's eyes instantly curved into crescent moons as she asked, "Really?"

Zhao Mu nodded and solemnly replied, "It must be true. If Xing'er doesn't believe me, we can pinky swear right now!"

Xing'er extended her tiny pinky finger, and her childish voice rang out: "Pinky swear, cross my heart, for a hundred years we'll never part..."

Watching the scene unfold, a wave of warmth washed over everyone present. They wished, more than anything, that time could simply freeze at this very moment.

Once Zhao Mu finished comforting Xing'er, Wang Wu asked, "Brother Mu, where are we heading next?"

Unawares, Zhao Mu had long since become their pillar of strength.

Recalling for a moment, Zhao Mu said, "When we came this way, I remember there was an abandoned village nearby, wasn't there?"

Wang Wu thought for a moment, then nodded. "There is a village indeed, and if I recall correctly, there seemed to be many abandoned spinning wheels left behind there."

Zhao Mu said, "That's the one. We'll go settle down there today."

He wasn't entirely sure of the village's name, but he remembered that it was close to the river, and as they had passed by, they had caught glimpses of numerous abandoned spinning wheels.

Since he intended to catch plenty of fish going forward, fishing nets were indispensable. Yet fishing nets were not something one could simply buy; if they were, those refugees would have long since acquired them for fishing.

Therefore, Zhao Mu had no choice but to weave them himself.

He knew of a type of net known colloquially as a "desolation net," and he roughly understood how to weave it. As long as they had the raw materials, they could fashion one in no time.

The reason such nets earned their ruthless reputation was that some unscrupulous fishermen, aiming to maximize their single-haul profits, made the mesh openings extremely small. The smallest ones were barely a millimeter wide, preventing even the tiniest fry from escaping.

Zhao Mu had no need to be that extreme, nor did he require fish that minuscule. Thus, he could easily make the mesh openings larger. In doing so, he would also save a considerable amount of time spent on weaving.

Before long, their small group arrived at the village they had passed earlier.

Zhao Mu looked around the village entrance and spotted a stone tablet inscribed with the three characters: Lesser Wang Village.

Presumably, most of the people who had lived in this village shared the surname Wang. Perhaps due to barbarian invasions, or perhaps because of various natural and man-made disasters, the entire village's population had either perished or migrated elsewhere.

After wandering through the village for a good while, they finally selected two adjoining courtyards. These courtyards were unremarkable and situated roughly in the center of the village. Unless one ventured deep into the settlement, one would hardly notice them at all. Furthermore, they were not the grandest dwellings in the village—just the kind that easily escaped notice.

Once the courtyards were chosen, Huang Wan and Wang Wu's wife immediately set to cleaning them inside and out. As for Zhao Mu, Wang Wu, and the others, they set about clearing away the heavier items in the yards.

By the time dusk began to fall, they had finally managed to tidy the two courtyards into a livable condition. At the very least, they no longer lacked a place to rest their heads.

As night descended, Wang Wu's wife used the grain gifted by Qin Jian to start cooking. Meanwhile, Zhao Mu took the bundles of hemp thread they had scavenged elsewhere and began weaving the fishing net.