Locusts, blotting out the sun and filling the sky, left no blade of grass wherever they fell.
Even though people stood at the end of their fields, ceaselessly swatting at the insects with all manner of tools, ultimately they caused the sumr harvest to yield no grain.
This was even more horrifying than Ye Huan had anticipated.
The common people were dumbfounded, sitting at the end of the field, slapping their thighs and wailing in anguish, unable to halt the locusts’ plundering.
Even though they caught many locusts using various tools, compared to the overwhelming swarms that darkened the skies, these efforts were just a drop in the bucket.
Moreover, these creatures reproduced extrely fast; you could only watch helplessly as they devoured leaves, crops, and wild herbs—any place they swept over was left virtually devoid of greenery.
Later, the locusts left, but the drought persisted. The hard, cracked earth made it impossible to plant anything.
Her dream had co true—a real disaster had occurred.
Frightening was the year 1942, frightening were the local taxes. Despite the common folk being in dire straits, those higher up did not believe it and increased the taxes, leading to many bandits and brigands arising in Henan. After enduring sumr and autumn, after devouring everything edible on the land, people began finding ways to escape with their families.
To secure the food in the cellar, Ye Huan had been hiding a portion in the "space" since 1940, accumulating over 800 pounds over three years—of course, the adults at ho were unaware because she took and stored it bit by bit. However, the family had also stockpiled quite a bit, around 800 pounds, of various foods.
Only a few in their village had stored food, but none like Ye Huan’s family, who saved food so rigorously that they spared not even grass, so even among those who had food stored, it was only enough to last them through the winter. But surviving the winter essentially ant surviving the disaster.
Ye Huan’s family had enough food to last until the next spring, so while the destitute villagers thought about pushing handcarts, loading wheelbarrows, and packing belongings to escape, the Ye Family discussed whether to leave or stay.
Because Ye Huan had ntioned that half of their family would die on the road during the disaster, they were subconsciously reluctant to leave their holand and head west.
"Grandfather, if we don’t leave, we must guard against bandits and brigands, as they are more dangerous. They can kill for food without blinking."
By October, nearly half of their village had left; only a small number remained.
Thieves and bandits could strike at any ti, and those who were left were like at on a chopping block—easy to slaughter.
Fortunately, in addition to storing food, they had dug a tunnel for escape during these three years. The effort and labor it required from the adults were not only known to Ye Huan, but also during their rest, she secretly carried out soil from the tunnel—digging was easy, but transporting the soil out trip by trip was hard.
Once the tunnel was ready, providing a temporary refuge, they would take advantage of tis when they could make fire, prepare various foods in edible sizes—either kneading them into rice balls or making them into cakes. Then, they would pack the items, pretending to leave overnight, but actually, they would circle around and hide everything in the tunnel.
Afterward, they dared not make fire or cook during the day and instead hid in the tunnel, only coming out at night to simr so soupy food.
How awful and hard to swallow the cakes made out of wild grass and sweet potato or cornal mixed with wheat bran were; after tasting them, Ye Huan felt unbearable pain. Many tis she wanted to bring out her stored sweet potatoes and potatoes, but thinking of the current situation, she could endure it—at least she wasn’t eating tree bark or roots and could still relieve herself normally, which was a blessing.
If they cooked at night, they dared not do it at their own ho but had to run to an empty house, fearing a careless move might expose them.
They fetched their water secretly by night from the riverbank, as by now, wells could no longer yield water.
Fortunately, the water of that era, though not polluted and still consumable, had to be boiled first to avoid illness.
Staying underground for extended periods made everything feel damp and moldy, so sotis, when they were sure of their surroundings’ safety, they would briefly co out to warm themselves and air their bedding, but they absolutely could not make fire or close and lock the doors.
Of course, they dared to do this because the entire village was deserted; everyone had fled the disaster.
But they had grown cautious; it was not the first or second ti that brigands had visited their village. Many houses were burned because Ye Huan’s family had preemptively smashed everything, creating the illusion of a previous raid, so theirs was not torched.
The village being deserted ant there were no livestock, no poultry, and even dogs were absent from this plain area without groves, so there were no wolves or feral dogs.
This provided them great convenience to bring water at night, but even so, each trip was nerve-wracking for the entire family.
Her two younger brothers, accustod to those days, did not cause any loud disturbances, and countless tis Ye Huan was grateful they were not uncared-for, recently born babies; otherwise, whether their family could hide underground like this was difficult to say.
Co winter, they occasionally experienced snowfall, although not much, but even a little could leave tracks. So sotis, to avoid leaving footprints, they would endure staying indoors for several days until the mud underground would not retain their footprints, only then daring to head toward the riverbank.
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