He Chunhua nodded. “Old Mo is already handling it.” The village had just finished harvesting its wheat. The golden piles of wheat were stacked like small hills behind the houses, so grain was clearly not lacking. Hence, it should not have been a problem for the village to supply its guests with a bit of hot food.0

Madame Ying glanced at the flatbreads on the table. They were fresh from the griddle, still carrying a trace of wheat’s fragrance, but they were clearly thick and uneven. The edges of the flatbread were charred, while the center was pale. Clearly, the hostess had no mind to cook them properly.0

And there was nothing in them—no sesame, no scallions, not even oil.0

It was a clear yet unspoken message: they were unwelcome.0

Smiling as if oblivious, Madame Ying said gently, “You...0