Xu Anping's mother was unrecognizable. Her face, once vibrant and full of life, had become a shadow of what it once was. Hunger had weakened her, but the hardest blow came with the death of her second son, Xu Er'an. With her son's body in her arms, she walked slowly to the house of her closest neighbor, a taciturn man who lived alone. In times of desperation, tragedies faded into general indifference.
The neighbor, a man with a sun-weathered face and scarred skin, looked at her with a mix of pity and resignation. He knew what she needed without a word being spoken. Silently, he opened the door to his home, and Xu Anping's mother entered with her son's corpse. Xu Er'an's fate was sealed, but his mother could not afford to linger in her grief. That same night, she returned home with a bag of meat.
Xu Anping watched his mother enter with the bag, and his perceptive eyes filled with doubts as he saw the uncertain origin of the food. The meat, too fresh and in portions he did not recognize, aroused his suspicion. However, his mother looked at him with a despair that implored silence. There were no words, only a command in her gaze: "Eat." It was all she said before sitting down with him. Xu Anping obeyed, though each bite tasted bitter, laden with a guilt he could not shake off. There were no questions, no answers, only hunger.
The days that followed were darker than those before. The bag of meat barely allowed them to survive a little longer, but provisions were scarce and hunger relentless. Xu Anping, with his mother and younger siblings, Xu Lian and Xu Feng, would walk the slopes of the nearby mountains, searching for any roots or forgotten fruits amidst the desperation of other villagers. However, the mountains were now barren; not even the tree bark remained intact. Everything that once was life had been taken by hungry hands.
Xu Anping walked beside his mother, growing weaker, with a lost look on the horizon. The faces of the villagers they passed reflected the misery everyone was plunged into. The shadow of what they once were remained, but barely. Men and women who used to laugh and work now wandered like specters in search of something to eat. In this landscape of despair, Xu Anping barely recognized his own village.
One afternoon, after another fruitless search for food, Xu Anping's mother made a decision that would change their lives forever. She sat in front of her children, her voice trembling but firm, and revealed what she had been considering for days: she would sell some of them so they could survive. Xu Anping looked at her, horrified. The shock hit him with a force that left him speechless. But his mother held his gaze. "It's this or death," she said with a broken voice, as if each word was a stab to her own heart.
There were no alternatives. No option that would allow them all to live. Xu Anping understood his mother's logic, but the pain of knowing his siblings would be sold as slaves left him paralyzed. His mother explained that, at least as slaves, they would have a chance to survive the famine, though their lives would be filled with suffering. What they could not afford was to all die together in that house.
The next day, a merchant arrived in the village. He was a short, stocky man with an impenetrable demeanor. The siblings lined up in front of him as his eyes assessed each of their skeletal bodies. After a long negotiation with their mother, the merchant decided to take only the younger siblings, leaving Xu Anping and his older sister, Xu Sanhua.
"I'll come back for you," promised Xu Wufeng, the youngest brother, with whom Xu Anping shared a special bond. Although his voice tried to be firm, the tremor in his words revealed the fear he was desperately trying to hide. Xu Anping could not respond. Words caught in his throat, unable to bid farewell to his siblings. The pain in his heart was unbearable, but there was nothing he could do. He watched them being taken away, their figures growing smaller until they vanished on the horizon.
The following days were an absolute void. The house, now silent, seemed larger and colder. Xu Anping and his mother barely spoke, both lost in their own thoughts and sorrows. Hunger continued to grow, like an invisible beast devouring their strength and will. The small bag of meat had run out, and there was nothing left.
One afternoon, the sound of horse hooves resonated in the village. Xu Anping peeked out the door to see a group of tax collectors arriving, accompanied by guards with old, worn armor and lances. The villagers, already weakened, could offer no resistance. The collectors walked from house to house, taking what little remained. When they reached Xu Anping's home, one of the men, without a word, entered and began searching for food. He didn't find much, but what there was, he took without hesitation.
"These are taxes for next year," said the collector coldly. "You must pay them in advance; the war demands it." The words were like poison to Xu Anping, who tried to confront the man, but his weak body barely allowed him to move. The guards easily pushed him to the ground, and his mother, broken by the situation, fell to her knees, unable to stop her tears. The collector didn't even glance at her.
When the men left, the house was emptier than ever. Xu Anping stared at the ground where the scant food had been. Everything had disappeared, stolen by those who were supposed to protect them. Hunger was now an implacable enemy, crueller than any war or invasion.
Up to that point, Xu Anping had only wanted a simple life, an existence where he could work the land, care for his family, and, although it was hard and exhausting work, at least have a good meal at the end of the day. He had dreamed of being a farmer, like his father had been before tragedy struck their family. Sweat on his brow and calloused hands seemed a small price to pay for peace, stability, and sustenance.
He remembered, as if it were another life, the days he accompanied his father to the fields. Under the scorching sun, Xu Anping was just a child, but he could already feel the weight of the earth in his hands, that direct connection to the life the land promised. His father, a man of few words but strong hands, used to say, "Sweat is the best reward. The land always gives to those who work it honestly." Back then, Xu Anping believed it with all his heart. A farmer's life was hard, but it was honest, fair, and at the end of the day, there was always a table set with food. That was all Xu Anping wanted: to work hard and know that his effort would ensure his family's well-being.
But now, even that life was impossible. Now, even hardwork seemed to have abandoned him, replaced by a fatigue he could not shake off. Hunger was his only constant companion, and the field that once promised sustenance had become an empty trap. Xu Anping looked at his hands, the same ones that had dreamed of plowing the earth, and only saw bones covered with skin.