After all, he needed to level up to Level 2 as soon as possible.
When he ca out of the space, he took a cleaned carrot, munching on it as he walked, because by the ti he got ho, there definitely would be no al left.
Just now at Master’s house, he had taken ten carrots and ten white radishes. Although his radishes were well-grown, big and juicy, and still had their tops, pickling them would have been enough to last ten to fifteen days without any issue, yet they couldn’t compare to a single al. While he was there, Master didn’t even ask him once, and after dusk, feeling embarrassed, he quickly left.
In fact, he didn’t bla them for not being hospitable because he was there to ask for a favor, not to eat. In those tis, every household was struggling.
It was a pity that her hoard of dried goods from her previous life had vanished with her death; otherwise, she could still make a soup with cabbage and seafood. Now, she could only chew on radishes without even salt for pickling, how pitiful!
When he got ho, his parents were squatting by the door, talking to the villagers by the fire. He politely greeted them, and when it was his parents’ turn, they didn’t even ask him a question. Naturally, he didn’t speak out of turn either, but the aunty next to him casually asked,
"Gangzi, you’re back late; have you eaten?"
Long Gang scratched his head, embarrassed, "I was helping out at Master’s place; I haven’t eaten yet!"
Then his mother’s sharp, an-spirited voice rang out, "You helped out and they didn’t even offer you a al? What kind of help was that? There’s no food at ho, if you can’t stand it, go to the cellar and roast a sweet potato."
This was only because there were others around that she spoke like this; if it were at ho, she would probably begrudge even a single sweet potato.
Long Gang just looked at his mother, nodded, and didn’t say anything. He went back to his room. A sweet potato? Forget it; he didn’t want to be attacked with even harsher words.
So, he’d rather not eat.
"Go to sleep, once you’re asleep, you won’t feel hungry." This phrase was commonly heard among elders during that era.
He found the reason why he hated his parents so much from the original owner’s mories.
When they were kids, their mother would wake up the elder son and the younger brother at midnight to eat, while he scread hungry in his dreams, ignored.
He discovered this by chance. Who knows how desperate he felt at that mont? Had he not looked sowhat like his father and brothers, he would have thought himself an adopted child.
In their village, it was rare to find parents who weren’t biased; their favoritism had no logic or legitimate reason, and even they themselves might not understand why they were biased. Their partiality led to Long Gang’s despair and hatred in this life.
The saying that the greater the difference, the more the parents are biased, couldn’t be more true.
The parents cherished the elder son because he was their first child, the laborer of the family, and adored the younger son because he was charming, sweet-talking, and could bring them joy every day, while they disliked the second son because he was a brooding type, spending little ti at ho—after eating breakfast, he’d push his bowl away and leave, not even informing them if he wouldn’t return at night, making her add more water to the dishes.
Long Gang believed he hadn’t done anything to wrong them, but he felt increasingly estranged from this ho. His parents didn’t love him, his brothers didn’t respect him, and everyone treated him as if he were invisible. What kind of family was this?
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