Qiao Qingyu opened the door to the storage room.
The room was adorned with a cement floor and wooden shelves, now filled with cotton cloth bags of flour.
Qiao Qingyu's storage room held fifteen bags of flour.
She kept plenty because anything extra could be given away.
Against the north wall was the millet she had grown, amounting to five bags.
Cornmeal, corn cobs, and kernels were piled on the shelves to the west.
The quantities were considerable; with sufficient food at home, there was no panic, and Qiao Qingyu felt happy just looking at her storage room, with the only pitiful sight being the rice.
It weighed only five or six pounds, contained in a small cloth bag, placed off to the side.
Qiao Qingyu glanced over and thought that in the future, rice would be nothing special, and millet would be much more expensive than rice.
Qiao Qingyu scooped two bowls of flour.
