Sean Xuan had witnessed the aftermath of thousands, even tens of thousands dying before, but nothing had ever shocked him as much as this scene today...
These people, risking their lives against government troops for a bowl of white porridge and a steamed bun, were still alive—but their faces were more terrifying than the dead. Their expressions were numb, their eyes filled with nothing but despair.
Death itself isn't the scariest thing—the real terror is waiting for death. That's what these people are doing now: waiting, waiting to starve to death.
The government troops smashed the porridge stalls, refusing to let the disaster victims have even a mouthful of lifesaving food. They destroyed their last hope of survival—leaving them no choice but death.
Heavy snow had sealed off the roads, the mountains, and the rivers. Aside from relying on the charity of others, there was no other way for these people to survive. Yet the authorities had blocked off even their last path.
All they wanted was to live—even if it meant licking white porridge off the ground like dogs, they still wanted to survive.
All they wanted was to keep living. Is that really a crime?
"We just want to live, to survive—is that so wrong?" A white-haired old man was pulled out of the chaotic crowd by Sean Xuan.
The old man was nothing but skin and bones, hunched over like a ghost, his whole body curled in on itself. The grief in his eyes stabbed Serena Feng’s heart. He looked about the same age as her grandfather—she couldn’t imagine what she’d do if her own grandfather ever ended up like this.
Maybe I'd go mad.
I’ve suffered enough. If I fall for their tricks again, I’d be no better than a fool.
After Jada Tang left, Serena Feng turned to several men nearby who looked strong enough and said, “You, go in and carry out the wounded. Remember—don’t fight the soldiers. If they hit you, dodge; if you can’t dodge, endure it.”
It feels humiliating to say this, but if you fight the officials—even if they’re in the wrong—you’ll be the one punished.
"Miss Feng, we’ll do as you say." The men were so furious they’d lost all reason—if Serena Feng weren’t here, they would’ve fought the government troops to the death.
Such trust was a heavy burden for Serena Feng. She couldn’t let these people down.
“Go. Tell everyone—they won’t starve. If heaven itself denies them a way to live, then the person giving out porridge will make sure they survive. That person… maybe can’t fight the heavens, but he cares about the people.”
In this moment, her words carried enormous weight.
“Who’s the one giving us porridge? Isn’t it Miss Feng?” a woman and child asked from behind.
“No, I don’t have that kind of power. Enough talk—help me save people. There will be more porridge and buns.” Serena Feng directed the people behind her, moving the wounded aside and giving instructions for simple bandaging and stopping the bleeding.
“Can we help too?” The ragged women and the skinny, pale children looked at Serena Feng, almost unable to believe they could be useful.
The officials said people like them only know how to beg, that they’re useless and just waste government grain. They said such people should’ve died long ago, and a bowl of hot porridge was more than they deserved.
They’d always thought they were useless, but now they realized—they could help too.
“Of course. Heaven helps those who help themselves. We can survive this snow disaster, and once it’s over, everything will get better.” Serena Feng’s voice seemed to have a kind of magic—everyone present believed her words were the truth.
As long as they could get through this snow disaster, they’d have nothing left to fear.
The group split up—the ones still strong rushed into the fray to carry out the wounded. As they stepped into the chaos, their feet crushed porridge and buns into the snow, and their hearts bled. Their fists clenched as they fought to restrain the urge to kill.
“Stop! Please, officials, have mercy on us. We won’t drink the porridge, we won’t eat the buns!”
“Please, stop hitting us! Please, just stop!”
A group of men surged forward, throwing themselves at the feet of the government troops. They didn’t fight back—they blocked the soldiers so the others could rescue the wounded.
Women and children helped carry the wounded inside, working with Young-clan doctors and medicine boys to bandage wounds and comfort the injured.
United in purpose, they faced hardship together.
The chaos gradually came under control. The officials hadn’t expected the refugees to refuse to riot, and now they were at a loss.
Now what? Their orders were to provoke the refugees into causing trouble, to force them to fight the government troops. But if the refugees wouldn’t fight, what could they do?
Should they just rush in and attack?
Maybe that’s the solution.
The officials glanced at each other, gritted their teeth, grabbed their weapons, and charged straight into the free clinic hall.
“Sean Xuan, block them.” If Serena Feng had only suspected before, now she was certain—the government troops were here to stir up trouble, to force the refugees into fighting back.