The woman working in the laundry shop wiped the sweat from her forehead tiredly, with the baby sleeping soundly in the carrier behind her.
The clothes on my body are dirty and old, but the clothes soaked in the basin are brand new.
Twelve hours of working time every day can be exchanged for two bowls of porridge.
Helping the boss's family cook can earn a little leftover food.
The fingertips were wrinkled from soaking, and the red wounds soaked in fermented urea looked like ant bites.
But she's used to it.
The man broke his leg a year ago, and she was lucky enough to at least find a job with her child.
Maybe, maybe I can still survive.
Life is endless in sight, work is numb, and life is numb.
If she didn't have children, she probably wouldn't want to live anymore.
On the street, the vendors who were cooking rice were weakly shouting about their business.
The gooey ingredients come from leftover food eaten by wealthy people. The fresh ones are sent to the poor people's restaurants, while the rancid ones are snatched away by him.
Of course, the price is that a portion of the grain sold every day must be handed over to the gang.
The smelly vegetable leaves in the pot were bubbling and their colors were mixed like swill.
"Delicious soup! One serving of half and half grass cakes!"
Bartering is also possible.
The vendor holding a rusty spoon had a cloudy right eye, and he looked at the vegetable paste in the pot with distress.
In this kind of weather, it really won't be edible if it's kept for another two days.
After the disaster, people's intestines and stomachs were very good, but they were not able to eat rotten porridge that had gone rancid for half a month.
The owner of the porridge stall saw a man holding a slave approaching, banging the pot enthusiastically but not daring to speak.
People with food will not eat these, but slaves will.
The slave being led knelt down on the ground, his eyes looking longingly at the fragrant paste, his throat twitching.
The muscles that were originally relatively strong were so starved that only their outlines were left.
Sometimes, slaves may not be able to eat enough.
The slave owner only bought him because it was cheap enough, almost free.
The man wearing a yellow robe watched with interest as the man whined. The man with a chain around his neck started whining like a puppy while holding a hot iron pot.
"Scream! Scream louder and I will buy it for you!"
The man being led was originally a member of the material search team. After breaking his left foot, his originally not wealthy family went bankrupt in an instant.
The wife and her newborn child worked as a laundry worker in a wealthy family's home, while the older child rummaged through garbage outside the city.
He couldn't support himself, so he had to sell himself for 9 pieces of straw cake.
He wants to save food.
He hid part of the food given by the slave owner every day.
There is still one piece of straw cake left.
As long as 10 pieces of straw cake are enough for the child to sign up to learn a craft of repairing machines, this is all he can do.
If you continue to pick up trash, your child will die.
Any remaining self-esteem was completely lost a few days ago.
The tied man screamed loudly with a pleading look on his face.
He is too hungry and he wants to live.
There is hope as long as you live. If you continue to live, you may be able to leave a little more leftover food for your wife, and maybe you can save a piece of straw cake.
The barking of dogs was similar to that of dogs, which soon amused the slave owners.
The crowd on the street started laughing.
As the lowest class of people, they have few recreational activities.
But when I see the same kind of people suffering, I feel a little relieved.
Look, there are still people who can't even eat when they are dogs.
Although I couldn't eat, at least I wasn't tied up.
The slave's performance had no results. After laughing, the slave owner suddenly turned cold and stepped on the man's face:
"You think I don't know? You hid the leftovers I gave you these days?"
He leaned down ferociously, and then yanked the chain so hard that it was hard for the man to breathe.
"Damn it! You are my dog! You are useless if you are hungry, you are just wasting my food!"
"Eat! Eat your mother!"
He had no intention of letting the slave live. He had already made up his mind to starve the disobedient slave to death.
The swollen hunger writhed like a poisonous snake in the intestines.
The slave who was being led felt cold all over. He did not expect that the slave owner would notice his actions.
A sad laugh.
This time, he really whimpered like a puppy.
If the child's "tuition fees" are not saved enough, the child will die if he continues to stay in the garbage mountain.
"Pa"
A puddle of goo fell to the ground.
The porridge vendor pretended to be surprised and looked at the spoonful of porridge that fell on the ground with distress.
"My porridge! Why did it fall on the floor?"
The merchant sighed secretly in his heart, and his eyes flashed with a trace of reluctance to look at the man.
Eat.
Although...
I can't save you.
Licking quickly.
The slave who was chained by the neck climbed to the ground without hesitation, and started to devour the mud and water all over the ground.
The freshly cooked paste is so hot that it makes your throat hurt, and the sour paste is like the fermented garbage at the bottom of the swill.
But it's really delicious.
The slave owner looked at the vendor who deliberately left him confused with a surprised look on his face, and stared at him with a half-smile:
"Hey, you still dare to go against me?"
He grabbed the spoon without hesitation and hit the man on the head with a bang.
"Eat! Just know how to eat!"
One after another.
The weak iron spoon was bent when knocked, and the skin of his scalp was ripped apart. The man struggled to finish the last bite and huddled on the ground in confusion.
No resistance, no struggle.
After being kicked over, he lay on his back with his limbs spread out, his eyes blurred.
Crying in pain and feeling helpless.
The sun in the sky cannot be seen clearly.
His consciousness gradually blurred, and he seemed to see the starch laundry next to him in his peripheral vision.
There was a sound of an iron basin being knocked down, and the woman carrying a baby rushed out with a sad face.
She heard the screams, which were from her husband.
"Please don't fight anymore, please..."
The woman turned the child to her chest and looked at the man with red eyes.
The slave owner, who was still angry, sneered when he saw this, and looked at the woman thoughtfully.
"Your man?"
"Get up! Otherwise I'll kill you too!"
Feeling unhappy.
After seeing the woman's humble nod, the slave owner looked sharply, thinking that he had thought of something fun.
He walked a few steps behind the hot iron pot where the vendor was cooking and gave a ferocious smile:
"It turns out you stole my food!"
"Don't you like to eat?"
"Come! I'll treat your whole family to a big dinner!"
The vendor was frightened when he heard the sound, and tried to stop the slave owner, but was kicked to the ground.
The pot is lifted.
The slave master is about to pour the hot paste on the woman.
There is no fun in boring days, but now, there seems to be some.
He couldn't wait to hear the wailing.
Sudden.
A burst of noise came from one end of the room.
"Everyone, be quiet! Stand still and show me the screen!"
A few soldiers pushing a simple large screen hurriedly turned on the power from a shop along the street, and then quickly wiped the dust off the screen with their sleeves.
The projection screen pulled out from somewhere, looks quite dated.
When everyone was at a loss, the screen flashed.
In the blurry picture, a man stood on a high platform, with an army of people kneeling on the ground behind him.
