It had been a full month since Zhao Yuan last visited the Village Chief’s place. While the surrounding environment remained entirely unchanged, the villagers had transformed dramatically.
Everyone looked sallow and emaciated. Some were so thin they seemed reduced to mere bones beneath a thin layer of skin, looking as though a strong gust of wind could easily blow them away. With the harvest failing so miserably that year, aside from the few households with ample grain reserves who could still manage to eat their fill, the rest survived day after day on watery gruel. The water far outweighed the rice; calling it porridge was a stretch, as it was little more than rice-infused water.
Kept up indefinitely, no human constitution could endure it, and they had all withered away rapidly.
Chapter 143