Chapter 443: Chapter 430: Porridge with Sand
On the streets of Langton, a soup kitchen was distributing porridge.
In front of the soup kitchen, a long line had already formed. A large cauldron was cooking a fragrant wheat porridge.
Though the food smelled tempting, there wasn’t a single smile on the faces of the impoverished people queued up for charity.
A man with a troubled expression finally reached the front of the line, humbly lifting his empty bowl towards the worker distributing the porridge.
The worker glanced at him with slight disdain, stirred the cauldron with a large ladle, scooped up a ladleful of golden, thick wheat porridge, and poured it into the man’s bowl.
Seeing that the ladleful filled only two-thirds of his bowl, the man’s expression grew even more anxious, his already bent back lowering further. In a pleading voice, he said, "Please, a little more!"
But the charity worker merely tapped the cauldron with the ladle, gesturing for the next person to step forward.
The person behind quickly stepped up, bumping the man to the side with his shoulder, nearly spilling his porridge.
The man felt greatly embarrassed and awkward. Although his nostrils flared, as if he wanted to throw the bowl and curse, reason overcame impulse. He moved aside to find a quiet spot to gulp down the half bowl of porridge.
As he walked into a nearby alley, planning to squat in a corner and sip his porridge, someone else with a porridge bowl approached. The newcomer’s bowl was already empty, though a few leftover grains of wheat indicated it once held porridge.
The man instantly clutched his porridge protectively, looking at the other person with suspicion.
Everyone lacked food. Though the Empire government distributed charity, some shamelessly begged from others.
Instinctively, the man didn’t want to share his meager portion, especially with those who outright robbed rather than begged.
Fortunately, the newcomer didn’t intend to snatch the porridge or beg for it. They simply approached and whispered, "Brother, want to have another bowl of porridge?"
"What are you planning?" The man shielded his porridge with his arm, his expression wary and cautious.
"The government’s charitable wheat porridge isn’t enough. A few of us gather together, combine our portions, and reboil with added water. This way, everyone gets an extra bowl. Do you want to join? I can guarantee you an additional half bowl the first time." The newcomer, eyeing the man’s porridge protectively tucked in his arm, showed determination.
The man was extremely cautious and asked quietly, "How do I know you’re not tricking me out of my porridge?"
"It’s just half a bowl of porridge. Even if I cheat you, can’t you just gulp it down in one go?" The other person seemed unfazed by the man’s suspicion, smiling slightly.
Hearing this, the man thought it made some sense, so he relaxed slightly and asked, "Where do you cook it?"
The newcomer pointed to an alley nearby, not far from the soup kitchen, where two burly yet raggedly dressed individuals stood guard, seemingly preventing unwanted intrusions.
The man hesitated.
He hadn’t had a full meal in days. Although the Empire provided charity, the small serving of porridge was barely enough to stave off starvation.
Others as hungry as he had done similar things, diluting their half-bowl of porridge to fill themselves up more, even if it was just a watery sense of fullness.
Still, the setup made him wary. What if they weren’t good people...
Ultimately, the desire to eat satisfied overpowered his caution. The man nodded and followed the newcomer into the alley.
Inside the alley was another large pot simmering wheat porridge, but compared to the thick, golden porridge at the soup kitchen, this one was much thinner.
Clearly, they had added plenty of water to stretch it out for more servings.
Overall, it was still considered porridge, not just diluted broth.
Seeing this, the man finally relaxed a lot, flashing a grateful smile to the person who led him in—at least today he could fill his stomach a bit more.
"Pour in your porridge. Once it’s cooked, as previously agreed, you can have two bowls." The person who led him seemed to be in charge, instructed the man while giving a meaningful look to the cook stirring the porridge. The cook nodded, acknowledging the gesture with a friendly expression toward the man.
The man greeted back amicably, then glanced around the alley. Around a dozen others, all looking equally malnourished, squatted nearby with bowls, their eyes fixed eagerly on the simmering pot.
Reluctantly, he poured his half bowl of porridge into the large pot and watched as the cook added two more bowls of water. He then squatted near the alley entrance, his eyes fixated on the pot with a hopeful look of anticipation.
"With this one, we have twenty-four today, one more than yesterday, but the soup kitchen’s portion was less than yesterday’s," the cook murmured to the leader, a slightly worried expression on his face. "If it’s always this thin, people won’t have the strength to work. You’ve got to find a way to get some solid food. Just relying on porridge isn’t sustainable."