The famine followed close behind, and Chen Xiong could only carry his sick sister as they began their escape.
Listening to Chen Xiong's gentle recount, Lu Xun felt a profound heaviness. He also understood why Old Apricot had once said that if one couldn't overcome their mental barriers, they couldn't compete for dominance in the Central Plains. Compared to people like Chen Xiong, his life seemed too smooth; before the country fell apart, he hadn't experienced any hardships and thus didn't possess the resilience these people had.
These people, insignificant as weeds, possessed a vigorous life force. Just give them sun and rain, and they could grow wildly.
Gradually, Lu Xun drifted into sleep, while the harsh coughs of Chen Li occasionally echoed in his ears.
The next morning, as soon as Lu Xun opened his eyes, he found that Chen Xiong was already gone, leaving only the shy little girl, Chen Li, who looked at him with a radiant smile, a hint of rosiness on her pale cheeks.