Jiang Rou’s gaze swept across the empty grain bins in the canteen, and her throat tightened. She scooped some of the sweet potatoes from her own bowl into Sun Xiaoxiao’s, saying softly, "It’s probably just the cold; we’re burning through the grain faster. Eat up, don't let it get cold."
Elsewhere, in the Secretary’s office, the wick of the kerosene lamp sputtered. Li Qiang walked in carrying a bowl of ginger soup, his brow furrowed, words hanging on his lips.
"Third Great-Uncle, the grain in our brigade..." Li Qiang wiped his face, his voice sounding like sandpaper scraping across ice. "It won't last three days. With this heavy snow sealing off the mountains, there's no way to get grain from the commune."
Chapter 96